The multicoloured light of a smart phone lit up the dark night. The carrier of said phone, was a dark haired teenager, perched lackadaisically on a thick tree branch. The surrounding forest was nearly silent, the only source of noise coming from the teenagers phone.
'-he Peregrine Falcon, a fascinating bird of prey, the fastest predator on our planet. Its aerodynamic form allows it to reach speeds of over-'
The teenager's grin was sharp, his full attention locked onto the screen as the falcon dropped into a dive. The camera jolting as it struggled to keep focus on the bird.
Suddenly, faster than the camera could even catch the falcon torethrough a flying pigeon, severing its head in a brutal blur of motion with its deadly talons.
Lucan's thin scarred lips curled upwards. A dark fire burning in his stomach at the hunt.
He's always had a fascination with-
The faint sound of flapping wings quickly caught his attention. His sensitive ears perked as he tilted his head, sharply narrowing his eyes as his gaze shot upwards.
A hawk circled above.
It glided elegantly, each flap calculated yet effortless. Its dark brown feathers almost concealing it perfectly among the night sky.
Below Lucan sat unnervingly still. His posture hunched forward without thought, the muscles across his shoulders pulling taut. His bare feet digging into the bark below, the dry wood groaning under the slow, steady pressure.
The hawk banked left, cutting a line straight through the full moon above.
Lucan's phone hung limply in his hands, forgotten.
The bird shifted once more, starting to fall as it brought its wings close to its slim body, ready to—
Crack!
The bird violently jerked, its feathers bursting into the cold air like confetti. The bird chaotically spiralled downwards, its elegance forgotten as a panicked cry escaped from its beak.
Lucan blinked, his eyes wide and alert as his attention shot downwards towards the forest floor.
Who the hell was that?
—-
"Tch! What'd you do that for?" An older man hissed, the words coming out sharper than he intended. He kept his focused gaze on his son's face, though his boy didn't look back.
His fifteen year old son's eyes were fixed on the hawk, its talons scraping weakly against the forest floor, claws curling and uncurling in slow, pitiful spasms. Warm, almost steaming blood spilled from the bird's torso, darkening the leaves underneath it.
"I-I didn't think I'd hit it?" The young man said, his voice cracking as his statement turned into a question. The young man's grip tightened around the hunting rifle in his hands. The older man shook his head in annoyance, his gaze shooting through the dark trees surrounding them.
"You scared off every deer in a mile radius." The older man grumbled, his son shrinking in embarrassment at the words.
The canopy above swallowed most of the sky, letting only ribbons of moonlight pierce through. The forest felt thick, he knew there were still a few cold, hopefully silent hours until sunrise.
The older man adjusted his grip on the rifle as his eyes scanned his surroundings.
"Dad, I'm sorry." His son said, a thread of helplessness in the boy's tone as he looked down at the hawk's limp body.
A moment passed.
The boy looked up in confusion at the silence, and felt a chill crawl up his spine. His fathers posture had gone rigid, his eyes wide and fixed in the distance.
"Dad…" his son whispered, a sudden, unknown fear weighing down his words.
The older man's breathing had gone shallow, his knuckles whitened from the tight grip he now had on his shaking hunting rifle.
The son followed his gaze.
A lean shirtless figure stood motionless in the trees, pale white skin glowing ethereally as a ribbon of moonlight seemed to wrap around him.
It looked human, a teenager, with dark hair hanging loosely over sharp cheekbones. His features were severe, angular, its face seemed to have been carved from stone.
Something hung from its bare shoulders, long, black and heavy, spilling straight down like a cloak. His bare feet were planted firmly into the forestry below, toes curling ever so slightly into the earth.
The boy swallowed, not daring to look away as his grip tightened on his own hunting rifle.
"Stay close" his father whispered, the older man not taking his eyes away from this…thing.
The black cloak seemed to pulse outwards, not with the breeze, but as if it breathed.
"Why are you out he-"
His father's words cut off suddenly as the thing took a slow, deliberate step forward.
Its eyes dropped to the broken hawk, its amber, almost orange eyes reflecting a speck of moonlight. Then the figure's head lifted, fixing the father and son with a blank, unreadable stare.
The fathers grip on his rifle trembled as he lifted the barrel.
"What…what are you?"
The figure didn't answer, only smirked, as if he had heard something funny, then its cloak seemed to shift and slowly stretch outwards.
The pure black cloak seemed to ripple, the edges oddly sharp, shimmering with colours the father and son hadn't ever seen before,
The boy's breath caught, a sick realisation blooming in his chest.
That wasn't a cloak.
A cold alien pressure seemed to fill the forest as the things 'cloak' unfurled before them. Swallowing the faint moonlight like a living shadow.
Wings, impossibly dark and incredibly vast stretched out before them with an alien elegance.
The boy's heart banged like a drum in his chest, a breathy gasp involuntarily escaping him at the sight.
"Leave." The figure's voice was raw, shaky not from fear, but as if left unused for a long time.
The fathers eyes locked onto the impossible wings. His mind at war with itself, he knew it was best to flee, but…could he turn his back to this—this thing.
"Dad…" his son whispered, fear evident in his shaky voice.
The older man took a deep breath and met eyes with his son.
"Dad?" His son repeated with a soft whisper.
No time for second guesses.
The dad grabbed his son by the arm, pulling him as they both bolted away, through the dark trees with adrenaline tearing through their bodies as their hearts hammered in their chests.
Lucan watched them flee.
His amber eyes fell back down to the hawk, laid broken on the forest floor.
—-
The car roared as the engine started, tires screeching as they tore out of a car park onto a main road. The son sat next to his tense father, breathing shakily as he fumbled with his phone.
Quickly, he dialled 911.
Before the phone operator could even speak, the son spoke over them.
"There's something out in the woods!" He stammered, his grip on the phone tightening.
A beat of silence passed.
"Something in the woods?" The phone operator repeated, confusion lacing their tone,
"We—we just saw it, he had—had wings!" He frantically hissed. "It was a mutant or something, we escaped but—but—"
"Sir, calm down." The operator ordered. "I'll put you through to a specialist now."
The son blinked…a specialist?
A moment of silence passed.
"Sergeant Collins speaking." A calm, authoritative voice rang from the phone. "Tell me everything."
—-
Wind roared in his ears, his wings beating like the drums of war as he burst through the dense forest into a nearby town. This was his main camping ground nowadays, he'd been sleeping in an abandoned warehouse here for a while.
He was lucky it's electricity still worked, let him charge his phone in some modicum of peace. It too was hard to charge it anywhere in public afterall, it wasn't like he could hide his wings.
Roofs blurred beneath him as he started to slow, his form hidden by the cover of the night as he approached his nest.
With a controlled beat of his wings, he further slowed his momentum, his powerful muscles coiling tightly beneath pale skin.
With a practiced movement, he dropped onto the roof below, his knees bending to absorb the impact. His wings spread out wide like a parachute as his bare feet scraped against the weathered rooftop.
He landed just ahead of his secret entrance, a hole in the roof he had created with a rather forceful stomp, months back.
He lifted the tarp hiding the hole, slipping into his sanctuary with a light thud. The vast warehouse was practically empty, except for Lucan's carefully arranged corner. Tangled green and red Christmas lights hung loosely from the walls, casting a soft glow that made the space feel warmer than it actually was.
Pillows, blankets, towels and sheets, all sorts of stolen fabrics laid across the cold floor in his corner, forming a comfortable, warm cocoon. Above the bed, taped to the concrete grey walls was a cracked mirror, reflecting Lucan's sharp, angular features back at him.
He sighed.
And with a muffled thud, he dropped into his bed, pulling his dark wings around him like a blanket and curled into a comfortable position.
But before he could fall into the peaceful embrace of sleep, his phone buzzed.
Wait.
His phone buzzed?
Quickly his hand shot out, an oddly desperate curiosity twisting through his body. He turned the phone, his eyes frantically looking at whatever notification came through.
'Message from - Mother'
'We miss you, please forgive us Lucan, come home, we miss you so, so much. We're sorry, sorrier than you could ever-'
Lucan tore his eyes away, he couldn't finish reading that.
He thought he'd be able to do it this time…
He dismissed the notification with shaky fingers, his lips tightly pursing shut to stop them from quivering. His grip on the phone loosened as he took a slow, deep calming breath.
The soft hum of Christmas lights filled the silence as Lucan's head dropped back in defeat.
He wasn't falling for that.
Not again.
But he couldn't help the feelings the message had released.
What if they did change?
He shook his head, physically trying to dislodge the thoughts from his brain.
He stood up with a grunt, the comfort and warmth of his nest swiftly draining from him, but that didn't matter, not now.
He needed to remind himself.
He turned his back to the mirror held to the wall by duct tape. His wings lifted, black and heavy, arching high above his head, grazing the tall ceilings of the warehouse.
He turned his head over his shoulder, looking at his pale back in the mirror.
More specifically the deep, gruesome jagged scars that tore into the base of his wings.
His fragile hope quickly vanished, and only anger remained.
—-
Outside the warehouse, under the heavy cover of night, two SUVs rolled to a stop without so much as a whisper of noise.
The 6 doors on each vehicle opened in perfect unison.
Over a dozen figures stepped out, moving with practiced precision,
They were clad in dark tactical gear, the kind that you would see in action movies. They wore heavy looking night vision googles, casting a dull green glow over their blank faces.
Each held a tranquilliser rifle, held low, but ready.
They didn't speak, they didn't need too.
They knew the mission.