Tommy ran without looking back. He weaved through the crowd and pushed past people that got in his way; and he ran. Down the road, left at the upcoming streetlight. He heard gunshots, he heard people screaming around him and prayers of mercy slipping from trembling lips, the yowls and barks of the dogs that were chasing them; they were chasing them all but no one knew who their persuer was. A hybrid man fell to the ground with a gut-wrenching scream next to Tommy, fresh blood leaking from a fresh bullet wound. Tommy screamed.

Everyone was screaming, running and pushing. It was chaos. Tommy almost tripped and fell himself but he grabbed onto a protruding pipe and ran along. The man on the ground was trampled by the panicked crowd and if he wasn't destined to die, he sure was then, when the feet of a dozen people stepped on his head and crushed his skull. The small children in the horde met a similar fate, lost under the soles of the adults who were running for their lives, and those who were lucky enough to still be standing were caught by malicious dobbermen and German shephards.

On the turn, he saw a big sign hanging. The logo was a mustache framed by cartoonish doodles of cables and computers. Tommy didn't spend much time assessing the design as he dove into the building. Behind the glass door, the noise was quiter; muffled but not completely silenced. His ears were ringing, his heart trying to beat out of his chest and somewhat succeeding. His feet carried him few steps inside before his knees gave out from underneath him, his palms touching the cool, tile floor. He fell but that fall hurt less.

"Oh my gosh, mate!", he hears someone shout but the voice was distant, barely able to break through to Tommy. Tommy recognized the British accent but the words themselves fell on deaf ears. Then a hand was on his shoulder, squeezing with concern; there was a person kneeling in front of him.

Tommy recited the one thing he was told to say. He didn't look up, he didn't move; petrified and panting as he was on the floor, he spoke.

"G-Grian sent me", and the stutter in his voice coincided with a huge gulp of air. The ringing was starting to subside, just enough for him to listen better.

"You're his nephew?" -he nodded his affirmation- "Can you stand?"

He was unsure of how to respond to that one. He'd ran so much, witnessed too much in such a stort amount of time. As the adrenaline left his system, he realized that his legs hurt and his feet ached, knees feeling like wet noodles; he tried moving but it felt like dragging a chest of stones. So, he shook his head.

"Okay, come- come here"

The man helped him to his feet, strong arms managing to lift him up by the armpits. Tommy leaned his full weight on the stranger, his legs trembling and threatening to break. He was helped to the chair behind the register, where he slumped over and let his forehead touch the cold black marble of the countertop. One of his legs immediately twitched as it came in contact with the trashcan under the desk and he could feel the muscles spasm and wringle under the skin.

What was going on again? It was difficult to believe that what was happening outside was actually real.

Another gunshot was heard and Tommy screamed out of instinct. Another one had bitten the dust out in the street and Tommy could only guess that there would be more.

The man who helped him, the one Grian trusted enough to send his nephew to, ran to the door with a golden key in hand. Tommy looked up when he saw a blur of black in his peripheral and he saw the man crouched near the entrance, fiddling with the lock at the bottom of the door. Right, glass doors had weird locks. Then, the stranger went to a hanging cord of plastic beads and lowered the rollers, successfully isolating the shop and shrouding it in darkness. But Tommy didn't miss the splatter of blood on the shop window.

Tears rushed to his eyes and he let them run willingly. People were dying outside, Grian was out there, wounded and unable to fly away. His father was somewhere out there and his brothers were far away; God knew what had happened to them or if they'd been reached by the persuers already. He was so stressed and confused; why was his family being chased after? Why were people dying, for what cause? Was there any good reason for all that?

There was another gunshot. Another soul taken; reapped like a ripe tomato that's ready for the picking.

"W-What's going on?!", he managed to ask -no, to demand- through painful sobs and tear-stained, flushed cheeks.

The man quickly walked back to him but not before shooting a glare at the covered windows, like that would make the chaos outside stop. It didn't stop but that's not surprising.

"Mate, I know it's scary" -two hands grabbed his shoulders and shook him sternly, pitch black eyes looking straight into his own blue ones- "But you have to stop crying, please"

The man looked stressed himself, his eyebrow showing an obvious tick as it twitched.

"Grian is alone! Dad is alone too and Wilbur and Techno, fuck!", Tommy continued regardless of the other's plea. There was a stutter in the man's shaking and Tommy saw how his eyes shined with an emotion he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"I know but you have to calm down-"

"I am calm!", Tommy exclaimed, sudden anger invading his tone. He could feel it bubbling in his chest too. Right beside his heart, he could feel a stir of frustration and anger and it was growing the more he realized that his complains and questions were valid and unanswered.

The hands, calloused and rough from years of life and hard work, moved to his ears just in time to muffle a gunshot. Tommy only flinched that time, the man's touch telling him that no harm nor pain would reach him; at least for the time being. A moment passed before his ears were released. The ringing was completely gone and no static filtered through.

"Let's go to the back, it's safer there", the man said and he helped Tommy up and out of his seat, right through the door that read "EMPLOYEES ONLY". He was seated on a pile of folded cardboard boxes, which was weirdly soft but stiff enough for him to not fall over. There were some computers in the far back and drive disks stacked in their respective boxes up in the scaffolding shelf.

Tommy blinked his eyes; blinked away the blur effect of the left over tears. He wiped those away and looked up at the man, seeing him clearly for the first time after entering the shop. A man just a bit taller than him, with black, slicked back hair and a bushy mustache. The blur of black he had noticed was the black suit he was wearing, a white dress shirt showing behind the lapels and complimented nicely by a red and white striped tie.

"I'm Mumbo", what a weird name. Then again, Tommy knew plenty of people with weird names.

"...Tommy", he heaved a breath, "What's going on?"

The man, Mumbo, sighed, playing with his fingers as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"It's, uh, how do I explain this? Uhm, the government is chasing hybrids out of the city"

"What?", Tommy gaped. "They shot Grian, why did they shoot him- Why did they shoot them if they're just chasing them out of the city?"

He looked at Mumbo, staring with percistence. The man faltered just a bit.

"Well...", he paused for a second, nervously looking towards the closed door of the backroom. His hands balled into fists. "It's not just 'chasing'. They're taking them to concetration camps... to use them as lab rats"

And Tommy knew why the man was angry. He knew and he felt it too because he was angry as well. His family would be taken to the concetration camps the history teacher at school had told them about. They'd be tortured, maybe worked to the bone, and then they'd be experimented on. Tommy didn't want to imagine his family suffer but what could he do? What could they do? Because Grian was a friend of Mumbo's but the man in front of him, hands shaking and gritted teeth, could only stand there. He could only stand there and take care of Tommy, the one and only remnant he'd have of Grian... and Mumbo would be the one and only remnant Tommy would have of his uncle; a stranger but a friend as well.

But Grian would be taken for Tommy's sake, even though Tommy was human. Tommy didn't want to sit idly by and do nothing; he hated the very thought. He wanted to go outside and demand that his family be set free but what could a regular thirteen-year-old do?

"Your family will be safe, Tommy", Mumbo said, though there was doubt in his voice, disbelieving his own words. Tommy wanted to believe that; truly, he did. "Don't worry"

How could he not worry? With his family dispersed in the city, black vans driving down the streets, their persuers being the most powerful people in the world with vicious, battle-hardened soldiers, how could he stay calm? Weirdly enough, he was calm. His hands were trembling, fingers twitching but he was calm. The world slowed.

"How do you know that?", he asked, voice small; meek.

"Grian was... prepared for this. Your father and brother probably were ready to take action as well", Mumbo told him. "They know what to do. I trust Grian"

Tommy was not reassured for as much Grian was a troublemaker, he was a trouble-magnet. Though, the words did quell his anxiety and blanket his worry a bit, if only just a smidgen.

Then, loud knocks came from outside, shouts and barks accompanying them. Immediately, Mumbo tensed up, looking at the closed door of the room like a deer caught in headlights. That alone rang the alarm bells in Tommy's head and all he could see was red.

"Who is that?", he asked, a mere whisper in the loud, thick silence but Mumbo didn't answer.

"Did they see you?", he asked instead, his features becoming stoic and his thoughts unreadable. "Did they see you with Grian?"

"We were together when he-"

That seemed to be enough information because the man cut him off with a raised hand.

"Stay here and hide behind the crates, I'll deal with it"

With one final look, Mumbo went out of the room and Tommy was alone, sitting on the cardboard boxes. He tiptoed after the tall man, peeking his head through the crack of the door to see in the main area of the shop. Some of the rollers raised and imediately, Tommy's eyes zeroed in on the black uniforms and bullet proof vests of the men who flooded the area right as Mumbo opened the door. Gasping, he leapt away from the door and rushed to the darkest corner of the backroom.

They were looking for him; fuck, shit, he was done for! He couldn't be caught- he wouldn't be caught because Grian had risked his life for his and he wouldn't let that go to waste. Even if he was a human, what was stopping the soldiers from using him as bait? What if they hadn't reached his family yet and by being apprehended, they'd be led straight to dad and Wilbur?

So he hid behind the crates in the corner and held his breath as the men runsacked the room.

"Excuse me but you need a warrant!", he heard Mumbo tell the soldiers. Tommy could hear stuff being moved, stock being thrown around. A dog barked. Mumbo had gone ignored.

"We have a report about an avian's child hiding in here, sir", a foreign, monotonous voice said, probably one of the soldiers. That one sounded way closer than Tommy was comfortable with. "I am terribly sorry about the disturbance but this is a mandatory search"

Whoever that was did not sound sorry at all.

"I understand, sir, but I believe I would've noticed if a child had run in here-"

The door to the backroom was kicked open. The sound alone made Tommy jump back, almost hitting his head against a shelf. He did not dare move as he heard the soles of the intruder thud against the tile and faintly, he could see the shadow of a tall man against the wall. Hugging his legs tighter and feeling the slightest bit light-headed, he tried to sink further into the corner.

"That room is for employees only-"

There was a loud click of the fingers and a sharp yell of surprise reaped its way from Mumbo's throat. "If you have nothing to hide, there shouldn't be a problem with me having a look-see, hm?"

For the most part, it was quiet as the soldier looked through the other half of the room. Tommy was stuck in his corner and all he could do to not be found out was to hold his breath and pray to a god he did not believe in that everything would turn out alright. He had to get out of this; he had to.

But the soldier moved closer and Tommy's hopes were slowly deminishing the more the shuffling of items grew closer. He thought he heard Mumbo shout a few words outside of the room but his voice grew distant quickly.

The crate that covered him moved. It was lifted and shifted out of place, then set on the floor beside the rest. Tommy froze; he thought his heart had stopped yet his lungs were flaring. His eyes met the face of the soldier, half-covered by a heavy gasmask. Bright, alien eyes lookedd down at him, small, unkempt tufts of black hair falling over his forehead with an occassional strip of neon green. The smell of gunpowder invaded Tommy's nostrils, as annoying as the smoke of a cigarette but somehow bareable in his petrified state. What caught his attention were the floppy ears that flicked at the sight of him, one of which was mostly missing, the edges ragged and ugly, while the other only had a scabbed wound like an earing had been ripped out.

The soldier was a hybrid and Tommy's eyes grew wide with realization. Why was a hybrid with the... with the people who were chasing out hybrids? But that wasn't what mattered at the time.

"Please, don't hurt me...", he muttered, lowly enough so that the wish would be kept secret but the soldier's ear twitched. Green eyes softened just the tiniest bit, the cold barrier breaking.

The man stood up without uttering a single word and Tommy saw that he was much taller and muscular than his shadow had made him out to be. He grabbed something from atop a crate and the boy flinched when he realized it was a gun: a rifle, black and so big that it was longer than the soldier's forearm, made to incapacitate and kill. Despite Tommy's thoughts on the weapon, it was not pointed towards him; instead, it remained idle in the other's arm and Tommy could only question why he wasn't being hauled out of the room already.

"All clear", the soldier said once he exited the room. Tommy was dumbfounded and he remained in his corner as the rest of the unit filed out of the shop. There were a few words exchanged, he heard that much but the context was unclear.

What had just happened? He couldn't believe that the soldier... let him go? Had he actually let him go?

"Tommy?", he didn't hear Mumbo enter the room at first, "Mate, are you okay? What happened?"

"He... I don't know?", he said, pure disbelief in his tone but mostly in the events that had just transpired. "He left me"

Mumbo's eyebrows raised, genuinly confused and suspicious.

"I'm sorry, I tried to distract them but they were too... focused. Did he tell you anything?"

"No. He just left. Did they all leave?"

A nod was his answer and a weight lifted from his chest. They were safe again.

"He's a hybrid", Tommy continued, slumping back against the wall. His head hit a bit too hard but in comparison to what had just happened, that was a small issue. Mumbo sat on one of the crates with a sigh, leaning heavily on his knees.

"He is"

"Do you know him?"

"No"

"Why is a hybrid involved in all" -Tommy made a vague motion with his hand- "All this?"

Mumbo shook his head, thoughful.

"I don't know, Tommy. I know as much as you do"

And what they knew wasn't a lot. What they knew was little and what they knew provided zero answers to the thousants of questions. But one thing they did know was that they couldn't sit by and watch as Hell reaped through the city, claiming the lives of innocents just because one man had given the order.

"Mumbo, I want to look for them. Dad and Grian"

The man turned his head to look at him. He was silent for a second, eyebrows furrowed in concetration before giving a solid nod.

"Let's look for them. Together"

Mumbo stood. Tommy smiled.