Hybrid Chronicles: Toby and MasonbyGweall©
Here it is, the story you've all been waiting for!!! The collaboration of Gweall and Kitten2010. BOW DOWN TO OUR GREATNESS!!! :) Not to be arrogant or anything *Cough*... It to SO much work to get this story done (you have NO idea) and I have to give a huge thanks to Kitten for putting up with me.
Message from Kitten: Sorry for the mix up, and yes there will be more from me just not for a few months at least ):
The rest of this doesn't matter, just read it if you want some more info:
We put in a lot of long hours (So many late nights ._. and she's two hours ahead of me so I feel bad for her haha) and I'm sure a lot of headaches for our lovely editor (Golf claps for Gbc5452 for putting up with both of us) This story takes place in the same world as my series like 'Wings of Gray', 'Things Change', and 'Revolution' (Which I will finish eventually...) This is BEFORE WoG and TC but around the same time as Revo. Feel free to read her version or mine, don't matter. And we MIGHT (I know we both want to but we both have busy lives) Do another chapter of this (Different characters but still a chapter in the chronicles) I'll keep yalls posted. I hope you enjoy this as much as we did writing it, and of course I'll be the feedback troll: FEED MEH YOUR COMMENTS OM NOM NOM!!!! Get to readin' y'all!
From Gbc5452: Sweet lord in heaven...the number of time I had to correct spots where the space bar had been tapped twice...lol
Mason walked on the cold concrete floor and felt the gravel cling to his feet. His tail was a few inches off the ground and the thin leather skin that formed his wings ran up his tail and attached to his arms. The extra bones that had grown to fill his wings when he had started his mutation were hollow and thin, but strong enough to support him if he chose to fly. The sound of the chains around his ankles sent shivers up his spine. He could feel the sharp teeth in his mouth and his ears twitched and turned with every sound.
"Move it, Dracula." One of the handlers pushed passed him. Mason scowled at his back.
"Yeah, cause I haven't heard that one before." Mason rolled his eyes.
"You say something?" The guard turned around and switched on the cattle prod they used to keep the infected in line.
"No." Mason growled.
"Good." The guard turned and walked off. Mason was sick of the vampire jokes, leave it to him to get the traits of a bat. Mason arrived at what the hybrids had come to call 'The Doctor's Office', The clean room was filled with different tools and devices designed to harvest rare (and very much valuable) parts from the hybrids. Every month Mason was brought to the eerily white room to have his brown soft fur shaved and sold. Hybrid bat fur was rare and expensive for it's soft feel and durability. Unlike most furs, it was best shaved rather than pelted. Pelted hybrid fur was taboo, since hybrids were still genetically similar to humans. People would pay thousands of dollars for it, many royalty across the world would pay to have clothing made with the precious fur on an almost weekly basis if they could. Others would use it in ceremonies and other important events. Mason didn't mind being shaved, the fur was hot.
As the creepy nurse in the white mask began shaving the soft fuzz from his chest and arms, Mason went with the motions rather than fight back. Fighting would only result in the cattle prod, and after the first few "haircuts" he'd much rather let them shave him bald. After half an hour of clearing his body of any hair, he was sent back to the holding cell. His body was hairless again and he thought he looked weird with his naked ears and brown wings. He glared at the guard ahead of him. He hated the escorts they were forced to endure, honestly whoever would have thought that after the camps an underground black market would open up. Dozens of Infected had been pulled from the camps before they were closed. Mason hated the black market more than he did the camps.
Mason had been fourteen when he entered the camps. He remembered the masses of Infected entering the camps at all different stages of their transformation. Some had just been diagnosed, others had already grown their various tails and teeth. Mason's wings had grown in the day before he was shipped off. He remembered the scratches he got from dragging them on the ground. With his new appendages, he struggled to learn how to fold them correctly so they would hide under his arms and not drag in a long trail behind him.
Mason remembered when the news first hit. When the doctors had told his mother and father that he was already infected. They had thought it was the flu but the doctors discovered his failing liver. His parents were wealthy and could afford all of the needed procedures to keep him alive. He survived the transition, but his parents didn't live long after that. Four months before being shipped off to the dreaded camp, his parents had been killed.
A riot had started and a bunch of Anti-Hybrid groups set fire to many houses that were known to contain Infected. No one knew about Mason's situation, but his house caught fire when a neighbors was lit purposely. It was in the dead of night and by the time the fire department got there, his parents were dead. Mason had been saved, and put in foster care until they could find a place for him. That place turned out to be the camps.
Mason hated being a bat. Hated being a "New Zealand Long-Tail". Most hybrids knew how they became infected. When in the hell did he ever get near a bat that comes all the way from New Zealand? He hated the need to take off at every sound. He hated the need to hang from the rafters of the low ceiling, and he despised the urge to catch the moths, roaches, and other insects that scattered across the room. Sure, flying was cool. But it wasn't worth the hassle of trying to keep from swallowing one of the dusty fluttering creatures every time he saw one. His teeth and ability to fly came in handy during the 'Dog Fights'. He may not be a lion, tiger or a bear. But he could bite like Count Dracula. He also hated the Vampire jokes. He hated those a lot.
Mason sat in his corner of the holding cell that he shared with at least fifteen other infected. He poked at his teeth with his tongue, he was due to have them pulled tomorrow. Bat teeth were used in jewelry and to decorate weapons. Mason looked at one of the other cowering men in the cell. He was horny, it had been a long time. Many of the other captives had taken it upon themselves to... satisfy their urges. Most of this wasn't consensual, but they didn't care much. Mason had never stooped that low, he may be a mutant but he wasn't a monster. Mason yawned and stretched his arms, unfolding the wings until they were fully spread. He curled up in a ball, using his wings as a makeshift blanket.
The sounds of screams and cries could be heard throughout the building. Mason sighed and closed his eyes. He could hear the sounds of a fight in one direction, the sound of a rape in another. And somewhere in between was the whirring saw of The Doctors Office. There was no doubt about it, he was in Hell. He wondered if he would ever get out... ~~~~~ *******
Toby was nervous to return after years of being away from home. He wondered if it would be the same there, since he had changed so much. He touched the cold glass of the car window, frustrated that he couldn't see the scenery. The vague memories made him long even more for the sight he'd lost to the surgeries. They hadn't been his choice, none of it had.
He couldn't remember much from being sick. It was all just a blur. He didn't remember exactly when his mother died, whether it was before or after his sister had passed on. What he did remember was his father's anger and disgust. And then going away.
Then the surgeries passed in a blur as well. Three years of his life, gone in an instant. Spent with the surgeons who seemed to feel nothing for him, no sympathy for his pain, no regret for ruining his eyesight in an attempt to return his eyes to the baby blue they had been before the change. They viewed him as something less than human and the only way for him to cope was to believe that as well. It was hard to accept, he still struggled with it. But facts were facts. Toby had become a freak.
Toby was ashamed of what he was. The sickness had made him disgusting. He had mutated into a gross combination of human and frog. Though he knew the surgeries had changed him so much that he looked normal, he never would be. There were things that couldn't be changed.
He felt the car come to a stop and he gripped his cane. He still wasn't very good at feeling around with it, but he was learning fast. The air smelled like rain and Toby felt a strange urge to swim, to feel mud between his toes and soothing water all around his body. He shook his head, ridding himself of the thought as he tapped the tip of the cane to the ground a few times experimentally. He hated not being able to see what the driver was doing or who was there. He felt so exposed. His body tensed up and every little sound became amplified.
"Son!" his father barked.
Toby reacted before he could control himself and a soft croak escaped his throat. Even without his sight, he knew his father was disgusted by him. He could feel it. He hung his head, pulling down at the knitted cap he wore, pushing black yarn and straight black hair to hide his face even more.
"Let's see if I got my money's worth," his father said coldly.
Toby was able to restrain himself from croaking again as his father grabbed his chin, examining the extensive skin grafts on his neck. He made a soft, indifferent grunting sound as he grabbed his son's hand, pulling away the glove. Toby winced as his father prodded the places that the webbing had been cut away. It was still sore, but Toby didn't say anything.
"Well, it's about as much as I expected. At least no one can tell that my son is a freak."
The glove smacked Toby in the chest and he knelt down, feeling for it with his palms because his fingertips were numb from the removal of the suction cups. He found his glove and stood slowly as he put it back on. He felt childish and foolish, which was ridiculous. He wasn't a seventeen year old kid anymore. He'd just turned twenty. He didn't have to fear his father anymore. And yet he did. He feared the man, but was also desperate for some sign that he was still loved in some way, however small an amount that may be.
"Dad..." Toby said. The word hung heavily in the air. It felt awkward to say.
"Take him inside," Toby's father said, not acknowledging that the young man had spoken. "I've got to oversee a shipment."
The man that had been driving took Toby by the elbow and led him up the stairs. Toby stumbled a bit, at one point croaking in protest when his toes, which had endured as much pain as his hands, banged against a step.
"Shut up, freak," the driver said. "They ought to lock all of ya up and light a fire. Abominations..."
Toby heard a door opening and suddenly he was pitching forward. He heard the footsteps of the man leaving and he was glad. He sighed and pushed himself up off the ground, using his cane to get on his feet again.
The McIlrath mansion was a huge property and though he had lived there his whole life Toby always got lost at least twice a day up until he'd gotten sick. And that had been when he had his sight and was there everyday. He was nervous, trying to remember the way to his old room. He recalled one staircase that led straight up to his attic. Motivated by the opportunity to sleep in a real bed for the first time in ages, Toby started moving his cane around, taking timid steps forward.
He grew a bit braver in his steps, remembering now that the staircase should be just a the end of the farthest hallway. He put his palm against the wall as he moved faster. Toby was sure this was the right way. He felt the frame of a door, exactly where he had remembered it. He pulled the door open, in his eagerness rushing to take that first step up. His stomach sank as he quickly realized that this was not what he'd had in mind.
Toby lost his grip on his cane as he fell down the stairs and he heard it snap as his leg, then hips, then shoulders took the brunt of the damage. He came to a sudden stop on a concrete floor, scraping his cheek. He propped himself up on his elbows, letting out a pathetic whimper that turned into a sad ribbit.
He heard a rustling sound and his body grew tense, almost as if ready to spring. "Hello?" he said softly. "Is someone here?"
After a heavy silence with no response, Toby began to feel his way around the ground, hoping to make his way back up the stairs. He felt the edge of something rigid and patted his way up the side, quickly realizing that it was not a stair but a box. He removed his gloves and slowly reached inside. As he did it, he felt a deep sense of guilt, as if he knew he wasn't supposed to be finding this.
Toby didn't know what it was he was feeling. Some of the hairs must have become airborne because Toby started to sneeze. The fibers were soft though, possibly the softest thing he'd ever felt. He closed the box, backing away and stumbling over another box. He heard the tinkling sound of items hitting the ground as they spilled. Toby bit his lip and dropped to his knees, grabbing what handfuls he could of the spilled content. He winced as one of the objects pierced his skin.
In his nervous rush, Toby was not aware of the approaching footsteps until they were immediately upon him. "What are you doing?" the voice demanded
"Dad, I...I, uh, fell down the stairs. Where am I?"
"What have you done? These are valuable."
Toby grunted as he was pushed backwards. "I'm sorry," he muttered, trying not to let it sting too much that his father didn't seem to care if he was injured or not.
"Why are you so useless?" his father continued. "Do you know how rare these are?"
"Dad, I don't know what they are..."
"These are hybrid artifacts. People pay millions for things like this and you just come down here and destroy them!"
"Artifacts?" Toby whimpered at the blow his father delivered across his face.
"The only good thing about you freaks is the parts you produce. These are bat teeth. Do you realize how fragile they are? You shattered one. That was worth at least a thousand dollars!"
"How did those get here?" Toby cringed at the sound of his father's movement.
"I did this for you. To pay for the surgeries to fix you so that you wouldn't have to live like a disgrace and embarrass the family."
"Dad, I don't understand..."
"Of course you don't. You were never very bright. I am in possession of several Infected abominations. They're barely even human. My business associates and I farm their parts and sell them."
Toby's jaw dropped. "Dad...that's cruel..."
"No! Cruel is being left with a useless son. You should have been the one to die, not your sister. If you're going to be ungrateful, then perhaps I should show you what I spared you from. A night with the other freaks should teach you a lesson."
Mason sat in the dark cellar that served as his room. Not really his, since he shared it with so many others. He had just gotten his fangs pulled, but was glad that they would grow back in time. Only to be pulled again, of course. Bat fangs were very popular. Cheaper than other parts that he could provide, it was still used a lot in Gothic jewelry and other things. He shuddered when he realized his wings had almost completely grown back. They took longer to grow back than the fangs, fur, and claws he also provided. But they were worth at least ten times more. People would pay millions for a single wing. The hide that formed his wings were thin but strong, and could be used for many things.
"Mason?" A voice called in the darkness. He knew a lot of the other Hybrids had a problem with being in the dark all the time. But he liked it, he didn't know if it was because he was nocturnal or because he didn't want to see the horrors that the others had to go through, too.
"I heard that you were due to fight tomorrow." The voice said.
"Great, I got my teeth pulled today." Mason knew that it would be more difficult to survive the fight without losing an arm to some stupid cat.
"I'm sure you'll be fine, you-" The voice was interrupted by the sound of the only door in the dark room opening. A figure was shoved inside and Mason heard a soft 'oof' as he landed roughly on the ground. Mason furrowed his brow, he could have sworn everyone was in their proper place, there shouldn't be an extra running around.
"Must be a new guy." The voice said, obviously thinking the same thing.
"I guess." Mason mumbled. "Hey, you alright?" He asked in the dark.
"Where am I?"
"Welcome to Hell." Mason rolled his eyes in the dark, he heard a laugh to his left and figured it had been the man he was talking to before.
"I...uh, I don't..." The boy stammered nervously and a few of the others started to circle around him, sensing his weakness.
"Back off guys, leave the kid alone. It's his first night in here you could at least refrain from giving him permanent scarring." Mason chirped at the surrounding predators. He shifted on his leathery wings and walked over to the cowering figure, who was jumping at every sound.
"Thank you. I'm, uh, Toby, by the way."
"Mason, come on. You can stay near me until we get you situated tomorrow. These guys will watch you like a hawk, if you're not careful they'll get you while you're alone. Try not to be alone, alright?" Mason smile, giving him a crash course in surviving. He put is arm around Toby's shoulders and walked him over towards his wall. He felt him jump when his leathery wings touched his shoulders.
"I'm sorry," Toby said softly, stumbling a bit over a ridge in the concrete.
"It's alright, you get used to it. I'm mutated with a bat. Any vampire jokes, and you can go back to the middle of the floor." Mason chuckled, but wasn't joking.
"Didn't even cross my mind," Toby replied with a small smile. The boy tripped for the second time. "Sorry."
"It's alright, It's hard to get around in the dark. You get used to it eventually." Mason reached his spot on the wall and sat down, pulling Toby down with him.
"I should be used to it by now. I'm always in the dark."
"What do you mean?" Mason asked. He spread out his wing and curled them around himself again. He yawned and closed his eyes.
Toby shifted a bit, pulling his hat and hair back a bit to reveal blue eyes obscured by a slight grey cloud. "I'm blind and I'm still not very good at it."
"I'm the bat here, aren't I supposed to be blind?" Mason smiled. "I'm sure it will get better for you, other blind guys find a way to manage right?" He asked. He crawled up a large wooden support beam against the wall.
Toby nodded. "I hope so. Falling gets old fast. What are you doing?" Toby asked, hearing his nails click against the wood."
"I sleep in the rafters, it's more comfortable for me. I'll help you up." Mason grabbed Toby's arm.
"I can't see, remember? Falling gets old fast." He mumbled, hesitating.
"Trust me, it's not as bad as it sounds." Mason pulled him up to the rafters. He put his back against it and let Toby sit between his legs, which were hanging off the wide beam.
"You should have seen me when I figured out I could fly." Mason laughed. "I was jumping off anything and everything I could find." He felt weird talking to someone he just met a few minutes ago about this kind of stuff.
"Flying must be nice. I can't really do anything special." Toby wrapped his arms around his knees. "Is it always so cold?"
"It's not all it's cracked up to be. There's a lot of falling, and some crashing, a few bone breaking experiences." He laughed. "Yeah, they keep it pretty cold in here to keep all the poisonous ones calm." He said. He heard a hiss to his right as some scaly creature voiced his objection to the temperature. "What hybrid are you, if you don't mind me asking." Mason ignored the angry reptile.