Note: For anyone not up to speed with my one hundred and then some OCs, the small child = Alek, the hero/ Tara's boyfriend/ that guy who was practically Ary's brother but you all shipped them anyway. Dr. Felis is the bad guy and Aleksander's father, though Al doesn't know that until he's older. It'll make more sense later.

The sun remained high in the sky, yet the air itself was practically frozen. Each breath promised a renewal of biting frost to the lungs and an exhale of smoke as white as the snow clinging to the grass. The men in black that marched toward the cliff were as silent as the flurries descending from the gathering clouds, though were much less likely to dance in the winds. The squadron reached their destination and strewn themselves into a line ten feet from where the white ground dropped to the dark sea clawing at the cliff side.
Behind the line stopped three individuals. Two were also members of the squad, with the same black vests and the same AK-47s. The child between them was a fourth their age and almost half their height. His clothes were thin and his head bare except for the sparse buzz cut, yet there was another reason for his shivering. The guards stood on either side of him and stared straight ahead as the others did, even as the last of the party arrived.
A tall man joined the group, accompanied by the last of the squadron. He could have been handsome if not for the deep frown lines. He stopped at the end of the line and looked to the small child staring up at him with soft verdant eyes. The doctor's voice cut through the icy air with the force of a punch. "X-Au13. Your primary objective is to create a mind and body for yourself that exceeds all else. No distractions can be allowed. No loyalties can be formed. You have deterred from your objective." The hammer of a voice dropped in grave dissatisfaction, "You have disappointed me."
The black dogs that had so nicely lined up for their master were thrown their meat. It stumbled before the line before falling to a kneel. The bent head of short midnight locks matched the ebony berets of the dogs. Similarly, the wings immobilized by chains cross-crossing his torso were as dark as a raven's. The guns were raised with eager muzzles directed at the winged man. The small boy who had been still and silent until then jerked forward with a cry. The duet assigned to him grabbed him and held him back.
"No!" the child screamed, "Let Michel alone! He did nothing wrong! I'll take his punishment! Please!"
The doctor residing over the arrangement looked to the kneeling winged-man with something like amusement. When he spoke, his words were English, but his accent Russian. "Will you let the boy do all the begging for you?" In response, Michel raised his head and rose to his feet. The chains that kept his wings wrapped tightly to his body clinked with the movement. There were tears in his jeans where drying blood soaked them, yet the skin beneath had already healed. His eyes were normally twin black stars that promised only truth, but now were hard obsidian as they traveled back to the doctor.
"You are a coward, Dr. Felis," he accused with the boldness not of someone facing a firing squad. "The boy looks to me as a role model and a friend. Your fear that he'll learn to care for me over you is well placed. I will do nothing to harm him as you have done, and that includes allow him to see me reduced to nothing but a pitiful, begging mess as your men's bullets rip me to ribbons."
Dr. Felis shrugged. It made no difference wether the winged man stood or knelt when he was cut to ribbons. Michel had backed up to the edge of the cliff as if to put distance between him and the assault rifles pointed at him. A signal from the doctor told the dogs to sic their meal, ten fingers all pulling the triggers at the same time. Only the little boy was watching Michel closely enough to see him mouth one word before taking a step back and disappearing over the edge.
The boy, only ever called Subject X-Au13 by Dr. Felis, cried out as his friend disappeared from sight. The guns stopped firing. The doctor continued grinning. Then the grinning ceased as well when there was suddenly a buffeting of wind as a man rose above the cliff, wings spanning do wide that the sun was blotted out behind him, turning him into a silhouette of vengeance. The AK-47s were fired wildly and the boy used the distraction to followed the order mouthed to him just before Michel had dropped off the cliff and broken the chains with the force of fiercely expanding his wings. "Run."

Should I continue? Just a warning, this has no happy ending.