A/N: If you hadn't already gathered, this is my attempt at a prequel of Wing It, a collaborative work of mine and my friend Dreamz. This is written purely by me at the moment, and will only be updated once the big plot points in Wing It have been covered; some of the chapters in here will detail what happened to Trinity's flock's parents and the flock's own pasts, and these may or may not be part of a twist or sub-plot in Wing It. This is mostly written because I felt like it at the moment, and I don't have a lot invested in here. However, I would like to know if anyone likes it, has issues with it, or whatever. Feedback is appreciated.

At the moment, it's in third person, focusing on Trinity's view.

Fang, Angel, and Jason (Beta, Delta, and Omega respectively) will show up in later chapters, as well as Angelus, Gabriel, Gwen, Lizzy, Zachary, and Lucy.

He was in a cage again.

It wasn't a barred dog cage, or one of those closed off pet carriers. Instead, it was a large glass tube, set on a platform with wheels. The tube wasn't made of regular glass, unfortunately for him. He'd found out that it must be Superman Glass when he'd tried knocking it over. He'd planned on it shattering once it hit the ground, but it just bounced and echoed and rolled around, making him dizzy and giving him a major headache.

He wasn't sure how they'd gotten him into the tube in the first pace. Or how they were going to get him out. Because he knew they would, eventually, if they wanted to show him off or experiment on him.

But they were going to show him off. He was in a cage to look like a cute little pet, or a Barbie doll in its packaging. An expensive, ultra-rare, mint-condition Barbie doll stuck in a too-small box, no smile on his face. Just a light T-shirt, dirty jeans, dripping wet hair that had previously been blond, and a pair of furious, terrified amber eyes. Don't forget the lack of pounds, the adolescent attitude that didn't suit a eight year old, the bandaged knuckles, and the creamy white wings that were tucked neatly around his shoulders, the primaries getting folded and bunched uncomfortably on the bottom of the tube.

He'd gotten tired of standing up; it made him feel more claustrophobic than before. Sitting down, the tube seemed much bigger. And, his face wasn't pressed right against the glass, breathing in his own CO2, when he was sitting down. Even with the tubes up at the top of the tank pouring in Oxygen and filtering out the carbon-die-oxide, when he stood up and breathed on the glass it made him feel like he was going to suffocate—and that wasn't just because he hadn't brushed his teeth. He kept his hands in his lap, palms smoothed on his jeans to keep them from getting too sweaty. There was no way he could escape (indeed, he could hardly move), so why bother wasting his energy uselessly?

At least he wasn't alone.

There was a girl across the room from him. She seemed about his age and height, stretched out in a glass box. Not a tube, but a box. Her wrists and ankles were locked in shackles made of the same unbreakable material as the container itself, and she was spread out like a butterfly preserved, wings spread on display, unable to fold back to her body because of the thin confines of the box. She had one of those thin oxygen tubes hooked through her long, long brown hair, feeding air into her nostrils. Even so, she was fogging up the glass, panting for breath, and sweat was beading on her face. She'd been trying to escape for ages, only pausing to catch her breath every now and then.

Trinity knew he loved her from the moment he'd come-to and found her screaming and kicking as the scientists wheeled her box in. He soon realized that she just wouldn't give up, and that made something in him immediately love her. Her passionate blue eyes never dimmed, and she's start shouting her lungs out at any scientist or Flyboy or Eraser that passed by. Trinity could hardly hear her as her voice was muffled by the glass, but he could tell that if she was outside of it he'd have probably lost both of his eardrums. He wondered what her regular voice would sound like. Probably hoarse, from screaming so much, but...

He watched in fascination as she huffed and jerked her limbs, but it was useless. Finally, she rolled her eyes—and saw him for the first time. She blinked, and then as he flashed her a smile and shuffled his own wings, her eyes lit up. She took a deep breath, and then,

"Do you have a NAME?"

He nodded vigorously, and bellowed, "TRINITY!"

"WHAT?"

He frowned, guessing correctly that the oxygen tubes on his tank were blocking out his voice, and then leaned forward to the glass. He fogged the glass with his breath and quickly wrote a 'T'. He repeated with an 'R', and then continued until he'd slowly spelled out his entire name, letter-by-letter.

She beamed. "TRINITY?"

He nodded, pointed at her, and then held up his hands in a question.

She shook her head. "NOT ME!" She threw her head back and laughed. "THEY JUST CALL ME SMARTASS!"

Hearing the dirty word roll off of her tongue, shouted out with such pride, seemed the funniest thing in the world to him. Soon his sides were aching from his laughter, and tears were streaming down his cheeks. He'd always liked laughing like that. He couldn't help it. And now, she was watching him, her mouth popped open, completely speechless. Was she that funny, she wondered?

The scientist came in while Trinity was just beginning to recover, and he was left panting, wide-eyed, forgetting to wipe his face, petrified.

The scientist had the opposite affect on the girl. She sucked in a deep lungful of air, and then she began cussing her head off, fighting against the restraints. Some of the men accompanying the scientist jumped back, but the young man in the lab coat, with fashionably messy brown hair and pretty blue eyes put his hands on the glass and began speaking to her in a low but firm voice. It was a pleasant voice, and Trinity's lips parted in surprise. Could this man really be a white-coat with a voice like that? A voice like Trinity's father's? He could still hear the voice of the blond man, with the sad eyes and huge white wings, telling him that everything would be alright... Just like that brunette white-coat was saying to the girl over there...

Her shoulders slumped and her wings attempted to pull back to her sides—and then there was an ugly sound, like bones popping, a shudder, and her wings were spread out again, trembling from the effort of keeping them there. She let her head fall forward and it hit the glass with a soft thunk.

"Don't cry!" he wanted to shout at her. "Don't give up!"

The dark haired scientist let his fingers trail across the glass as he reluctantly turned back to the others. They weren't all scientists. Some of them were men in crisp suits, some in jeans. He recognized most of their faces from the news... Politicians... People in charge... None of them had struck him as very smart people on the news. Not very smart, or very nice, either. But the fact that they were here, looking at him like a collectible doll...

Trinity's fists clenched on his jeans.

Monsters.

"Mr. Moore," one of the politicians—a governor, Trinity thought—said. "Can we begin?"

The scientist nodded. "This here is experiment Tri-Alpha-One. She's seven and a half years old, but don't let that fool you. She has the attitude of a rebellious teenager." Several of the men chuckled and some muttered comments about how they could handle teenagers, their daughters were more rebellious than a California wildfire. "The tubes are not providing her with more oxygen; they regulate the oxygen she receives. Her lungs and air-sacs are designed for high altitudes, where the air is much thinner. If she doesn't have the tubes every few hours, or if she doesn't get a chance to fly high every now and then, she'll suffocate backwards. She can't process the surplus amount of oxygen here."

"What species is she?" one of the suit-guys asked.

"She is a mix," Moore said. "We're not quite sure, but we believe that one or both of her parents were avian hybrids as well. It's hard to keep track. Her wings are Barred Owl, but they're not quite the same as a regular owl of that species, due to the fact that whichever parent she inherited the DNA from was a secondary source, instead of her having received the DNA from us as an embryo."

"How large is her wingspan, exactly?" another suit asked. "It is impressive, but what's the exact footage?"

"From tip to tip, it's a ten foot. We estimate that it will be about fifteen feet or larger by the time she reaches maturity."

"And when would that be?"

"By the age of sixteen. What we have gathered from previous experiments seems to agree that puberty begins around thirteen years, and then ends at about sixteen. It's a period of extremely fast growth, but it's also very potent. Mood-swings are uncontrollable, and about three times stronger than a normal human child's. Most powers seem to develop during that time as well, but of course there have been some exceptions to the rule—"

"Powers?"

"Some of our experiments mutate on their own as they age," Moore explained. "Most of these experiments have been put down because of rebellious natures, and because they became dangers to themselves and to us—but project Beta can lie so still that he seems to blend in with his environment."

"And where is this Beta?"

Moore coughed. "Regretfully, we were forced to put him down as well."

"A pity. Do go on."

Moore turned back to the girl in the container. "Is there anything else you would like to know about this one?"

Some question and answer time followed, mostly technobabble that Trinity wasn't interested in and couldn't understand anyway. And then the brunette scientist turned to him. "This is project Alpha. His experiment has not been completed yet, due to mishandling in our east-coast branch. In direct contradiction of orders, the scientists kept Alpha here in an empty room, where he was beaten, abused, neglected, and then left to die. He was scheduled for termination, before somehow he managed to escape. As you can see, he has filled out nicely, and he is rather well-rounded. He can write, read, and speak clearly—and he isn't quite as rebellious as the girl we just looked at."

A chuckle swept through the suits.

"Alpha's project is scheduled for completion in the near future. This is just the preliminary viewing, so you can see how successful it is even now."

"What is project Alpha?"

Good question, in Trinity's mind. Alpha? He'd never heard that name before. He was important? He wasn't supposed to have been treated that way? With...Karen... At the thought of her, Trinity felt sick and closed his eyes to steady himself. Then he picked up again, wondering if this man—Moore, right?—had a voice as nice as the sad-eyed man...and he thought that they shouldn't treat the experiments so badly...then maybe not all white coats were evil?

"Alpha is the head of a group of four experiments that we have been perfecting for the past forty years," Moore said, and there was pride in his voice. But then it faded, and there was a tremble in Moore's chest that only Trinity picked up, and it made him frown. "He can endure, he can persevere, he can fight and he will kill. He can be controlled." Moore's voice betrayed his inner confliction. It was subtle, and the suits didn't notice. But Trinity did.

He pressed a hand against the glass and exhaled, then began writing. My name is not Alpha, he told them slowly, ignoring their wide eyes and focusing only on his writing. My name is Trinity.

He looked up, searching their gazes. They gawked at him. "It's so intelligent!" someone said.

Trinity glowered and wiped the words away, then breathed again and scribbled as fast as he could, I'm not an 'it'. I'm a human, sir. It was hard to write backwards. But he'd practiced. Like when he was at the coffee shop last winter, and he wrote an entire conversation with a little girl outside.

The suits shook their heads, eyes still wide. They didn't believe him. Just like they didn't believe an embryo was human. Just like how they believed it was OK to experiment on babies. On kids. Helpless... Innocent... Defenceless... Kids like him. People like Karen... He shuddered and stood to his full five feet of gangly arms and legs, and pressed his wings against the tube. He wondered what they'd say to him having religion. Him having stronger morals than all of them combined. At only eight years old! He wondered what they'd say to him cussing at their face...or punching their ugly teeth out.

Moore was fiddling with something, and there was a small crackle of static in the tube—and then Trin knew. He stared hard at the men gathered in front of him. He took a trembling breath to calm himself.

"We are human too," he said. "And you are supposed to protect us."

Moore's eyes widened from where he stood with his back to the suits. They didn't see him, but Trinity did. The blue eyes were filled with shock and a biting regret. The scientist bit his lip, which was beginning to tremble. Trinity jerked his gaze back up to stare around at the other men, who didn't know what to say. Under his intelligent, eight year old eyes—eyes that had seen horrors most of those men could only wonder at—they could see their reflections. They could see their souls, stained, worthless. Inwardly, they cowered. Some literally cringed.

Afraid of a eight year old.

But then again. He wasn't a normal eight year old.

"YOU SAID IT!" the girl shouted, drawing their attention to her. She glared at them with teary eyes. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT THEY DO TO ME? They stick me with needles, they open me up, they use electricity to hurt me, they pull my hair, they beat me, they touch me and feel me and I don't like it! And now they want to sell me, so people can use me to do what they want with me. To kill people, to go out and work in armies, and risk my life, just like one of those robots that go and take care of bombs. But I don't want to! I just want to have a home, and food, and clothes, and a mommy and a daddy! And they keep telling me that I'm not human, and that it'll all be over soon." Her glare disappeared, and she leaned as far forward as she could. "Please," she begged, "please... Is it going to be over soon?"

The microphone crackled off, but Trinity didn't notice. He was staring at the girl, his hands pressed against the glass, his breath fogging it. He wanted to hold her. He wanted her to stop crying. Desperately, he pounded on the glass. She wouldn't look at him.

Eventually, the scientist ushered the suits out, and he closed the door. He rounded on the two experiments on display, his eyes shining. "I'm sorry." His voice was ragged with tears. "I'm so sorry." His hands pressed against his face. "I never wanted to work here," he moaned. "But they took my wife..."

Trinity understood. He sighed and rested his forehead against the glass. "Can't you be strong, Mr. Moore?" he thought aloud. "Be brave."

Moore didn't hear. "I'm in charge of both of your projects," he said through his hands. "I'll try to keep things gentle... But... I can't get you out yet... I'll try, but not now... The security's too high..."

Trinity groaned, and the girl sniffled; just like usual. Just one more test. Just one more exercise. Just one more eternity of suffering, just a few more seconds... Seconds leaking into days, into months, into seven years... Trinity found himself repeating the girl's question in his heart.

He'd only just gotten here... But he was already wondering when it was going to end.

They had bigger cages here, wherever they were, Trinity decided. Back in Manhattan, there hadn't been enough room in even the largest cage for him to fit, so they dumped him in an all-white room, and that was that. But here, he actually managed to fold himself into the wire dog cage and there was a surprising amount of room to spare. He'd been separated from the "smart-ass" girl, but there was another girl here. She was a tiny thing, with flaming red hair and pretty, fluffy wings tucked against her back. She stared at him curiously.

"What's your name?" he asked her as he rubbed his damp hair with the towel at the bottom of the cage.

"Kate," she said with the pride of a little kid who was still reveling in her ability to talk. "Who ah you?"

"My name's Trinity."

"Twinity." She nodded. "Pwetty name."

He smiled. "Your name is pretty too, Kate."

Her cheeks became as red as her hair, but she gave him a toothy smile. "How old ah you?"

"I'm eight. You?"

"I dunno!" She pouted. "'dey won't tell me!"

"That's sad," he agreed.

Kate suddenly blinked numerous times in a row, and cocked her head to the side. A moment later, she'd burrowed under her blankets. "Hide!" she told him, voice muffled in the cloth. "'dey're comin' for us!"

Trinity sighed, and flinched when the door was opened. He'd heard them coming too, but he'd tried to ignore it... Tried to keep his resolve, stay brave. But when the whitecoats—none of whom were Moore—came tramping in, armed with sedatives and tasers, he pushed himself as far back in the crate as possible. They dragged him out easily, and the sedatives proved unneeded. He knew there was no use fighting with the Erasers around. They handed him off to a hulking wolf-man, who lifted his feet off of the ground and tucked him against his smelly chest, where he had no hope of escape. Kate was grabbed in a similar fashion, and then they were carried through the sterile hallways that confused Trinity, made him dizzy, and ruined his efforts to try and locate himself.

But then he was dumped on a floor of grass, and he found himself staring up at a blue, blue sky. It was painted, yes. A ceiling and walls painted with the sky and horizon; but the floor was real grass, not fake grass, and it was scuffed in places and perfect in his mind. And there were others here, too. Kate went stumbling towards one of the other boys—a hyperactive kid about the same age, with wide eyes, a manic grin, and a thumping...tail? He lunged at her, his hummingbird-blue wings beating rapidly, and then they both went rolling in the grass, laughing and babbling away.

The smart-ass girl and another boy were a bit farther away, sitting under a real tree. The boy's skin was pale, just like every other experiment's was, and his hair was dark and unruly. The girl was sitting behind him and smoothing his hair out across his forehead. She was talking, apparently reprimanding him about not brushing his hair, and he was moving his lips, mimicking her silently without caring.

Trinity carefully made his way over and sat down a few feet away. The girl smiled at him. "Dom, this is Trinity," she said in a voice hoarse from screaming. "Trinity, this is Dom."

"Hi," Trinity said.

Dom smiled at him. "Heyo," he said cheerfully. "She told me all about you being able to write and you're from a different place. What's it like?"

"At the other place? Horrible. Outside's nice though," Trinity said. "Haven't you ever been?"

Dom and the girl shook their heads in unison. "No way! They're afraid we'll fly off," Dom said. They can't afford the netting and electric wires and stuff, so they built this place."

"That stinks!" Trinity exclaimed. "It's so cool out there! It rains, and there's wind, and it's so much fun to fly and the sky is so pretty. You ever seen it out a window?" The boy and girl in front of him shook their heads again, and the girl looked ready to stomp around and demand that someone let her out to see the sky right then and there. "I'll tell you all about it!" Trinity said. "The sunset and the sunrise—everything!"

The girl gasped, and Dom smiled hugely. "Really?"

"Yeah! First the sky, and then about the rain, and trees and flowers and birds and bugs. Really, everything. I mean it! I promise."

And something inside Trinity's mind was eased with that promise. It gave him something to look forward to. In case he couldn't get out of here again, he still had his memories. Sharing them would keep them fresh and make them last, and Dom and the girl's happiness at just the thought of the sky would keep him alive. Trinity felt some sort of lifeline form among them at that moment, something unspoken but universally understood, just between them.

A promise was something you couldn't break. Trinity would have to keep himself alive, through whatever ITEX put him through.

If there was one thing that Trinity had learned from his year of freedom, it was that you don't break promises.

Ever.