Chapter Text
Two years. She almost couldn’t believe the hell her life had become in the span of just two years. Pacing the confines of her chamber, a mere ten paces if she walked the shorter distance between what she knew were the North and South walls, and fifteen paces to cross from West to East. Two years… And the day her life changed drastically. The day she realized just how alone in the world she was. The day she realized what freedom was, and that she was denied it.
Before that, her memories were all pleasant. Happy. Safe.
A memory of her father bringing her blocks to build with when she was very small — a prize for being a good girl and not putting up a fuss when he came to draw blood from her small arm. Or like the time he came to teach her to read, and brought her books…those times always elicited arguments from Uncle Iain.
“There is no purpose to these inane gifts. It doesn’t need to read. It has one purpose, and that is to science. We need to understand exactly what worked with this one trial and why all the others failed.”
“Stop calling her an ‘it’. She is a living, breathing person, complete with intellectual thought and emotion!”
“It is an experiment, nothing more. Giving it these…these…gifts, is pointless and does nothing to move the project forward. We need to know exactly how and why the point genetic mutation worked with Specimen 421, not treat it as a child.”
As images raced through her mind, her pacing slowed until she no longer took one step before the other, swept up in the memories of her “childhood.”
If it hadn’t been for her father, she would have never learned how to read or how to write. She would never have had the softness of plush toy animals, or new blankets and pillows in her favorite color of deep green. She would have never been given a name other than Specimen 421. An emotional whirlwind began to surge within her as she thought back to the bittersweet memories of the only father she had ever known…
“Close your eyes, Feronia.”
“What is it, father?” She could tell he was holding something behind his back, and she tried to dart around to sneak a peek. But he was much taller than her, and could easily keep the treasure he held behind him hidden.
“It’s a surprise. If I simply tell you, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise now, would it?”
With the all suffering sigh only a teenager could manage, she heaved a breath and squeezed her eyes shut. There was a small odd sound, then the smell of something burning. Her mind raced with possibilities of what it could be. Why would he burn her surprise? Determined to make her father proud, she squeezed her eyes shut even tighter.
“Alright, Feronia, you can open your eyes now.”
Slowly, she peeled her eyes open. Held in the palm of his hand was a single cupcake, with a tall mound of green frosting and a spattering of colored sprinkles. Rising from the center was a single candle, flickering with flame. Gasping in delight, she sprang off the examination table, the mass of feathers against her back rustling in her excitement. Rarely did father bring her such treats. Only once a year. “It’s my birthday?” she exclaimed with pure, unadulterated excitement.
“Yes indeed!” he returned, his chocolate brown eyes smiling down, but not yet handing her the small cake. “And how old are you?”
Feronia actually had to think about it, as they rarely discussed how old she was. “Thirteen!” I have been keeping track, just like you showed me. I use my colored markers to make a mark on the wall for each new day!”
Pride bloomed on his face in the smile he turned down to her as he carefully handed her the birthday cupcake. “Don’t forget to make a wish before you blow the candle out!”
She didn’t even have to think hard. Merely sucked in a lungful of air and puffed it out at the candle, extinguishing it instantly.
Turning away, her father walked to the lab bench where he began readying the instruments he always needed to take his specimen samples.
“Would you want some, father?”
For a moment, the broad, white-coated back of her father seemed to grow still before he slowly turned back to her, his brow furrowed in that way when he was thinking of something that was troubling. “You don’t belong in here, my Feronia.” He mumbled to himself as he seemed to simply stare down at her outstretched hand, half of her birthday cupcake held carefully in her cupped palm. The warmth of her father’s hand settled over her own as he cupped her proffered hand in one of his larger ones, still staring at the cupcake.
“How a child raised in utter isolation can grow up so…sweet. I will tell you what. While we share your birthday cake, why don’t I finally answer the question you are always asking me lately.”
“Why you don’t have wings too?” she asked.
That day had been life changing. That day, she had learned that she had been created in a lab, in a secret government program to see if the human genome could be point mutated to cause very specific mutations; like splicing two portions of two different genomes together. Before her, many subjects either never survived to draw breath, or died shortly after being “born.” She was the first, the first human chimera. The first specimen of human DNA point mutated with the avian genome. It was why, growing from her back, was a set of perfectly formed wings, feathers and all. It was why her father visited her daily to collect samples — tissue samples, blood samples, saliva, urine, feces, blood pressure, heart rate...all were collected to try and answer why Specimen 421 “succeeded” while all other test subjects failed.
From that day on, her father began to make sure to give her an education in greater depth. Eagerly, she learned science and math, biology and calculations. And she learned everything at a rapid rate. Feronia fully understood that Uncle Iain and Father were actually partners in this government endeavor. And as time moved on, days passing into years, the arguments between Iain and Father became more common. More numerous and prevalent. More and more, she was kept isolated for long periods in her chamber; although Father always made sure she had some comforts — that touch of kindness so often bereft everywhere else she turned.
Then the day she would never forget happened.
At first it was no more ordinary than any of her other days. But she should have known. There was electricity bristling in the air. An energy that she didn’t notice until the lock on her chamber door sounded. The telltale echo of the electric bolt sliding back with a chunk at a time it was not scheduled to open peaked her interest. Staring in anticipation, she watched as the heavy, reinforced steel door swung open, thudding against the wall with a loud clang. Bursting through the open doorway, frenzied and almost wild, was Father. It was shocking to see him without his white lab coat. Blood oozed from a gash in his hairline.
Quickly, she climbed off her bed, tucking and folding her wings up so that they wouldn’t drag on the ground. Now, at sixteen, her wings had grown quite large. With an extra joint growing out from her back near each shoulder blade — muscle, bone, and sinew arched up a foot-and-a-half to the first main joint of the wing before sweeping down another four feet. Only being a little over five feet tall, if she held her wings folded up vertically against her back, they hung down to a few inches off the floor. But when she stretched, straightening them out in their full glory, each wing was about six feet from wingtip to where they grew from her body. The feathers, oh how she loved her feathers, were a deep black with a touch of indigo that could only be seen when the light shined on them just so. They were often a source of fascination during the long hours within the confines of her chamber.
Making sure to keep her wingtips off the ground, she rushed toward her father. “You’re bleeding!”
“I know,” he huffed, snagging her hand while simultaneously glancing at his watch. “Shit, we are running out of time. Feronia, follow me, and for the love of god, don’t make a sound. Do you understand?”
Confusion and alarm spearing through her, she nodded frantically. And with that, Father tugged her along after him and out her chamber door. She rarely got to leave this room, and when she did, armed guards and her father escorted her out into the hall and to the right where they would normally head to the lab. Today, her Father tugged her to the left and down the hall.
Bare feet padding along the hallway floor as she ran after her Father, she was lead down one empty hall way and up another until they reached a door he used his keycard to open. With his hands shaking badly, it took him three attempts to slide his keycard through a slot on the wall before a light above the door changed from red to green, and then they were busting through the door and running up a flight of stairs.
“Father, where are we going? What is wrong?” she huffed out between lungfulls of air as she tried to catch her breath. It’s not like her days consisted of a lot of physical activity unless the science program called for those types of tests.
His hand squeezed hers tighter in answer. “Just a little further. Come, little one. Trust me.”
It seemed like an unending amount of stairs before the stairwell ended at a door. Bracing one hand on the door, her father swung it open.
For the first time in her life, fresh, unhindered air met her face, and she inhaled deeply. There were no words to describe the feeling of finally getting to see the world beyond her chamber and the lab, to fill her lungs with real, natural air, to feel the wind caress over the skin not covered by the skintightjump suit she always had to wear. Even her hair moved and ruffled in the wind…
But before she got to treasure such feelings further, Father yanked her forward across the rough surface toward a helicopter waiting on the roof pad, it’s blades spinning and rumbling through the air.
In a full on sprint, they raced across the rooftop, but as they drew near, her father slowed, alarm tensing his body as he shoved her behind him even more. Peering around him, she tried to see what had alarmed her Father so much. From what she could tell, no one was in the running helicopter. Was there suppose to be?
“Stan?” Father called out cautiously. Stepping forward slowly, they drew up alongside the helicopter. Feronia grit her teeth as she had to really keep her wings tucked tight against her back under the wind the chopper blades generated. Her long black curls fluttered wildly in the raging gusts, tangling in a wild mess. Reaching out, Father opened the helicopter door.
A scream wrenched from her throat as the body of a pilot slumped lifeless to the rooftop floor, making them both jump back out of the way. In the back seat of the chopper sat Iain, a hand gun pointed at them.
“Nathan, Nathan, Nathan,” Iain chided as he maneuvered himself out of the chopper to stand before them beneath the swirling blades, the gusts of the chopper snapping his suit coat and pants back tight against his body. “Did you honestly think you could get away with something like this? What were you going to do, exactly? Smuggle Specimen 421 out of the building and hide her somewhere?”
“I was giving her freedom!” Father barked back, trying to draw her further behind him.
The sound of several booted feet on pavement followed by rapid clicks had her peering over her shoulder. Four of the heavily armed guards that she often saw guarding her chamber door stood behind them, assault guns leveled at them.
“Father?” The simple word left her lips in a trembling whisper as dread coiled through her.
Instead, Father turned and gripped her face between his two hands, holding her gaze to his. “Promise me you will never stop trying to escape this place. Never stop fighting for freedom.”
Over her father’s shoulder, Iain’s face twisted in a haughty sneer. “You always were a sentimental old fool.”
Almost in slow motion, Feronia saw Iain raise his gun, watched flame rupture from the end of the barrel…then Father’s head snapping forward, a warm gush of blood and brain matter spattering across her face and chest. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Then his body dropped sickeningly to his knees before he slumped, crumpling over to the side in a lifeless heap.
Her screams of horror, shock, and utter pain still rang in her ears to this day. They had dragged her back, kicking and screaming, to her chamber. Several guards tossed her roughly into the room before that damn door slammed shut and the chunk of that electric lock sounded. For hours, she had screamed and bawled at the door, beating against the metal in futility.
That was two years ago.
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