A young teenager sat dangling his legs over the edge of an old tattered roof, looking down onto the dimly lit streets below, neon signs of past stores and old billboards flickered ominously. It was dark this time of night, and rain didn't help the visibility much. This boy was different though, he could see just fine, this being a part of his hybrid abilities.
He was wearing a back hoodie, and his signature red sleeved and white t-shirt underneath, then some generic jeans, and finally some red converse high-tops.
His was a unique ability, he had wings, a rare and much sought after trait in these parts, as many people wanted the feathers of these species. They were believed to possess some medicinal abilities when ingested in a crushed form, that they could heal even the worst of illnesses or wounds. Desperate people believe desperate things, the boy supposed. The feathers of a winged hybrid were almost a form of currency in the underground market, so many believed they were.
It was hard for the boy, almost every day he was avoiding, or evading some new threat or bounty hunter. Even now he was being watched, stalked even, like some prized game. Then he moved, standing, so suddenly that the three hunters who had been aiming to bag the kid all jumped up ready to catch him if he made a run for it.
They moved closer and the boy turned around eying each one before smirking and yelling above the rain, "I'd really like to stay and hang, but you know I've got places to be, and so do you!"
A hunter held up a small pistol aiming it at the boy's chest, " Don't move kid or I'll shoot."
"I wouldn't ever!" The kid said sarcastically. Then he stepped off backwards letting himself free fall before twisting, and catching himself in his wings, pulling up and shooting off towards his home for the night, an old van.
The pistol had fired, but it had missed the kid entirely. The hunter threw it to the ground angrily eyeing the spot where the kid had just been.