It should have come as no surprise to John and Jane Smith when the child creature they accidentally bore resembled the exact thing they both despised, and yet the shock was present.
They were two of the most disliked humans the Hive Ward had ever housed, and that was saying a lot. They were utterly rude to everyone they encountered, gave nothing- yet expected the world. Neither of them worked wage paying jobs, because neither of them had ever wanted to.
It was because of their absolute lack of a functioning conscience, and their obsessive love for things they couldn't afford; that the bludging pair had amassed several enormous debts all over the cage, and spent their days hopping from one pub to the next, hiding from the various collectors.
Unfortunately, this wasn't entirely their fault. Their parents, and their parent's parents were much the same. Jane and John came from a long line of ne'er-do-wells, as lazy and irresponsible as their children.
The child creature, having never actually met either of them, was unable to confirm this in person. But as partial payment of her parent's debt to one of the many they had cheated, Xephyra- they came to call her, had become a very hard worker indeed.
The Pit was one of the many modest establishments the Hive had to offer, a small dusty room in a particularly grubby part of town where other ne'er-do-wells- much like Xephyras's parents, would come and spend their jink to stare miserably into their mugs of ale and spirits until it was time to go back to work.
Nobody born in the Hive ever left it. There were whispers of course, of those who had managed to scrape enough jink together to get out- but Xephyra didn't tilt an ear to any of them. Her life, from the moment she could walk- was work. Scrubbing bedpans, floors and furniture even though the dust and dirt never really went away. Work in the Hive, die in the Hive.
It was a better existance than some, at least that's what she told herself.
