Rex is in a bathtub. He is only thirteen. Hands hold him down and cold water soaks into his cloths. There is a man standing over him, a man with a knife. He grabs Rex's hands, pulling them out. He presses the knife to the child's wrists; he slices the thin skin over the veins. The cold, clear water turns red with blood, but his nanites stop the bleeding before it can kill him. This makes the Knife Man mad, so he stabs Rex through the heart
Rex glided through the air, flapping his dirty wings occasionally. He loved flying, the feeling of the sun on his feathers and the wind in his hair. But the best part was the freedom, the knowledge that he could go anywhere he wanted, any time he wanted.
He screamed as a hand grabbed his ankle, dragging him back to the earth, then down farther, into a dark room. They chained him to the ground, they yelled at him, they beat him. Their kicks leave bruises and their knives leave cuts, and then someone does the unthinkable. He takes hold of one of Rex's dirty, grimy feathers, and he pulls. He plucks it straight out of the wing, and he drops it, letting it flutter down and settle right in front of Rex. Everyone likes this idea, they all start plucking feathers. Rex can only watch in horror as his feathers rain down in front of him some still have blood and bits of flesh on them. His freedom is being ripped away, one at a time at first, then by the fistful.
"Why?" he asks. He screams, he begs, he just needs to know. Why would they do this? Were they jealous? Were they mad because he was different? He didn't choose to be different. He didn't ask to have wings. He just got them. Why were they so mad at him for something that wasn't his fault? He just didn't understand.
Someone stood in the doorway. There is a flash of metal and they flee. Rex looks up at this man, this man who is now in front of him. He towers over Rex and Rex knows that he should be afraid. But he's not. The man kneels and adjusts his sunglasses. He has no facial expression and he does not develop them as he brushes Rex's dirty, grimy, bloody feathers into a pile and cups his hands around them. He opens his hands and in the place where Rex's feathers had been there is now a bird. The bird flutters away. While Rex watches it, the man touches Rex's bloody featherless wings, and he breaks the chains.
When the man touched Rex's wings the boy felt something. When he looked back he saw clean undamaged wings; he was fixed! Rex bolted, his feet pounding on the ground as he ran out of the darkness and into the sun. He flapped his wings and launched himself into the sky. Then he looked back, something that he had never done before. He saw the man standing on the ground gazing up at him, his green suit standing in stark contrast to the sandstone desert. The man had no wings. He was normal. He was just like everyone else, but he wasn't. He had helped Rex when no one else would, and Rex didn't want to leave. This was also something that had never happened before. Rex never wanted to stay. He wanted to go and be free. But now, he longed for family, for a father, so he landed right in front of the man. Rex hugged him and the man hugged him back.
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Six opened his eyes and looked down at Rex. He was sleeping soundly, something that must have been quite a privilege for the boy. Six idly wondered what the boy was dreaming about.
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I was out of town all weekend and I didn't manage to get this up, sorry.