proof-read by no one, i let no one proofread this, you all find out together
part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight |
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At some point the clock had churned itself forward enough to hit 5am. 5:23am being the last timestamp you recalled before sleep had wrapped its lithe fingers around your ankles and dragged you into the realm of unconsciousness.
When a particularly loud car with a spluttering engine had passed your bedroom window and woken you from your restless sleep, you realised you’d actually fallen asleep with your phone still on.
There, on the dimly lit screen, was the last document you’d found on the subject of Hybrids.
Henry was correct when he’d forewarned you of the unpleasantness of your bedtime story, it made you wish that it was all just fiction. An amalgamation of dystopian sci-fi meeting biological horror.
Hybrids had been around for a very long time, beyond yourself, your parents, possibly even your great-grandparents. Four generations of life- of history mostly erased due to hatred and bigotry.
The earliest indication you could find was in the 1920’s, but you were certain there were trickles of them even further back than that, there had to be.
Weapons. They’d been made, initially, for the sole purpose of being expendable weapons for the military during the fallout of the first world war.
Whilst the world was healing and making reparations, Piltover were planning and preparing in the ways they do best. Deliberating and debating ways they can improve the safety of their own council should something similar happen in the years to come.
The brightest scientists that the country had to offer had devised a way to splice the DNA of animals with that of humans; maintaining their human appearance, while harnessing their animalistic traits to give them an advantage that their human counterparts couldn’t compete with.
The eyesight of a big cat was far superior to technology from the simple fact that it didn’t require calibration, testing or constant upgrading to best its enemy. Night vision that didn’t need to be turned on manually.
Similarly, their biology meant they could outrun a human, and their stamina replenished faster too. Nature’s predator manufactured into something that could be trained to follow orders while thinking for themselves to adapt to any given situation.
Not to mention that the skin of certain mammals is thicker and tougher; an elephant or rhino was a human- or Hybrid- shield with enough empathy to protect the members of their squad without a second thought.
These Hybrids were considered as a barricade, a hunter, reconnaissance, navigation, anything that was useful to the scientist that made them, but not as human. Just a tool to be harnessed and exploited.
If the mere idea of raising Hybrids just to be soldiers wasn’t enough to make your stomach turn in on itself, the way they were described in the documents finished the job- from what you could read around the constant grey bars of redactions.
It was dehumanised and devoid of any compassion; people who didn’t know any better were reduced to a description of ‘subject’ or labelled only as their animal counterpart.
You’d needed to take a moment to stare at your bedroom wall after that. A moment of pause to calm down and collect yourself that you were certain these Hybrids were never given.
Luckily, and you were using the term very loosely, the council of Piltover had voted in favour of abolishing the programme under the description of being ‘One step too far’.
The ache in your jaw was persistent from how many times you’d clenched and unclenched it in anger.
A member of the council, whose name had been redacted for- what you assumed to be- security reasons, had called the manufacturing of Hybrids to be ‘the beginning of a self-funded release of an invasive species’.
Your thoughts drifted to the man you’d left slumbering on your couch within the pillow fort you’d made together with such care. There was nothing ‘invasive’ about him. In fact, from the few short days you’d spent with him, he’d seemingly gone out of his way to shrink himself and his presence.
He was guarded, of course, and aloof with his emotions but he was kind and considerate. He shared his food with you, and tried to move you out of harm’s way when he thought there was the possibility of trouble ahead. Jayce was not ‘invasive’.
He had his own taste in music, movies and loved boardgames. He wasn’t a weapon.
The idea to check on him had crossed your mind, and you wondered if you’d find him still sat up like you’d left him, or if he’d woken up and assumed a more comfortable position within the bed of pillows and blankets you’d left him.
However, your need to understand him more overtook any notion of leaving your bed. Instead, you grabbed one of your pillows to hug it before you continued on your search. If so many exotic and larger animals were an integral part of the original designs, then why had you never seen or heard of them in your lifetime?
It had taken you the best part of an hour to locate the answer to that question, and when you’d found it, you immediately wished you hadn’t.
The words on your phone became blurry, unintelligible wobbles of lines in front of you as a few tears trickled down your cheeks and into the pillow you were holding for a comfort that it couldn’t provide.
They were ‘disposed of’. Living, breathing, sentient beings with thoughts and feelings had been wiped clean from existence simply for being as strong as they’d been created to be.
The voice of the councillor who had deemed them as an ‘invasive species’ had been heard too loudly and too clearly by the hearts of those who feared the consequences of what they’d done.
Not a single one slipped through the cracks.
The pit you felt in your chest was hollow, as if a slight breeze would pass through the chasm and hit the expanse of where your heart was supposed to be. Even so, it felt selfish. Selfish to cry and feel such anguish for something that didn’t affect you personally.
But it did. The man that struggled to sleep at night and refused to let you touch him; either through the apprehension of what you might do to him, or worse, what such a gesture might do to you, made it personal.
The document that had been a witness to your unplanned slumber had explained that, unsurprisingly, the best and brightest that Piltover could offer was unhappy with having to throw away years of research into what they proclaimed to be ‘groundbreaking’.
Shocking absolutely no one, the council agreed. They had put too much money and reputation into the project for it to be discarded, and if you weren’t hitting the very limits of your ability to stay awake, you would’ve screamed in frustration that the same sentiment hadn’t been extended to the lives they’d abandoned.
The programme had been ‘revised’, or so the document had stated. Accompanied with a law that the production of Hybrids was to be limited to ‘domestic breeds’ only. Easily tamable, and easily trainable.
A media campaign is what really put the concept of Hybrids into the public eye. They were advertised as a ‘companion’ or ‘accessory’ to the rich society of Piltover, something to flaunt a wealth that some could only dream of.
Although, like all fads and trends, the excitement died and Hybrids fell into the gutter of capitalism. Only now, the council couldn’t quietly sweep them under their gold-encrusted rug and pretend it never happened.
They were a part of society, whether or not they wanted to accept that fact, and humans would simply need to learn to co-exist.
Once your eyes had adjusted to sunlight creeping through your bedroom curtains and you’d conceded to the fact that you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep after remembering what you’d learned, you checked your notifications.
Henry had sent you a follow-up text around the same time you’d fallen asleep, asking how the reading had gone.
You’d managed to get out of bed and begin mentally forming your reply to him when one very loud question blurted itself into your thoughts.
How did Henry have this information?
If the council had been so secretive and thorough in their eradication of any trace of their blood stained history, then how did Henry- a man casually taking his own Hybrid out for coffee- have access to classified documents?
You slowly turned your head back to where you’d left your phone on your bed, screen open on your texts with the man in question, and your blood turned thick with enough ice to cause frostbite.
How you proceeded next had to be calculated, not just for your own safety, but for Jayce's.
getting lockjaw while sucking off Jack and he starts getting nervous as you freeze and eye him with an “oh no…” worried look and pull your head up, spit pooling out of your mouth and stringing your lips to his cock.
He wipes your face with his palm then gets up putting his boxers back on then he’s hurriedly grabbing a steaming hot cloth and putting it on your jaw as you sit onto the couch.
You get out a partial “Sorry-“ before he hushes you and shakes his head.
“Don’t try to speak… and you don’t need to be sorry, baby girl. Just let me take care of it.”
