Frozen Fingers
@ailesswhumptober day four: Frostbite
Contains: Superhero whumpee, beating, multiple whumpers, mocking words, hypothermia, duct tape gags, failing prosthetics, the feeling of being trapped in your own body, panic attack, used as bait
Read on AO3 here!
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Landon lay wheezing on the ground, his shallow breaths sending flares of pain across his bound body, blood steadily seeping from his lips and filling his mouth with an iron taste. The men surrounding him laughed, another delivering a harsh blow to his chest. Landon groaned, doubling over as tears sprang into his eyes. He could only let out small gasps of pain.
The men had caught him by surprise, managing to ambush him and knock him out with a prick to his neck. When he awoke, he was locked in a freezer, wrists zip-tied firmly behind him, and a painfully throbbing head. Fortunately for his captors, it hadn't been necessary to restrain him—after the few hours he'd been unconscious, the cold had already managed to turn his normally elastic flesh brittle and inflexible. He wasn't sure how long he'd been out, or how cold the freezer was, or what they'd done—since it usually took much longer for him to become this brittle—
But… whatever they had done, it was clear they'd been very successful.
Landon grunted as his head was suddenly yanked off the ground, a rough hand tangling into his hair and jerking upwards harshly.
"Ngh—"
"Farstep ain't here to save you now, is he, Stretch?" The goon holding his hair leered, his hot breath sending foul-smelling vapour into his face.
The young superhero grimaced in pain as the goon roughly shook him by the grip in his hair.
"What, nothin' to say? That's a right shame. I'd hoped we'd get more beggin' outta youse."
"I guess he's askin' for more, then!" Another goon gleefully exclaimed.
Landon's head was dropped to the ground with a heavy thunk, and before his vision could clear, a steel-toed boot came flying towards his chest.
Landon let out a strangled gasp of pain as the tip of the boot connected with his chest, sending him sliding across the freezer floor and leaving the wind knocked out of him. He struggled to gasp for air, each movement sending more flares of pain spiking across his body. His uniform, which was in tatters thanks to the brutal beating, was now half torn off his injured body, barely hanging onto his trembling frame.
The men laughed louder as he was exposed, the countless bruises an ugly color against his brown skin.
"You're a bit skinny, aren't ya!" They mocked, prowling forward. They surrounded him once more, more brutal blows raining down on the teenager's body with ruthless efficiency. His brittle skin cracked and split with horrible crunching noises, and the skin on his chest slit open, blood gushing from the wound. Landon lurched, tremors wracking his body, only able to let out a gasping sob of pain.
"Wouldja look at that. The brat's breakable after all!" one man jeered. Landon whimpered as someone pressed the heel of their shoe into his temple, pinning his head against the ground and causing his cheek to scrape against the freezer floor.
"How adorable." A few more boots stepped into view of Landon's eyesight, and before he could brace himself, one came flying towards his face. A choked cry tore from his throat as his nose snapped. Another sharp kick followed, knocking out a few of his teeth and causing his mouth to bleed. Landon was in too much pain to spit them out.
"Ugh. Now you've gotten my shoes dirty," the man who broke his nose tsked. He narrowed his eyes down at the bloodied superhero.
"Apologize."
Landon finally managed to choke out the blood and piece of teeth.
"Wh….huh…?"
"I said…" the man said slowly, pushing his bloodied shoe into Landon's cheek.
"Apologize."
Landon swallowed. Despite the fact that his head was spinning, and that he was shaking like a leaf, he still wanted to preserve some of his dignity. He stayed silent.
The pressure on his head released, only to be replaced by a foot on top of his neck. It pressed down, slowly applying more and more force on his airway, until it was fully blocked. His eyes widened and bulged. He let out a choked noise, frantically struggling, legs kicking out uselessly as he jerked and thrashed and tried desperately to breathe. But his struggles only caused the man to step down even harder, and Landon's mouth hung open breathlessly, tears sprouting in his eyes as his lips moved soundlessly like a fish.
Just as his vision began to go black, the pressure relented. Landon gasped for air, coughing and gasping. But before he could recover, the boot returned to his temple and shoved his head sideways onto the floor once more.
"Try again."
Landon squeezed his eyes shut, barely choking back sobs. Finally, he whispered, "'m sorry."
"There's a good boy." The boot was removed from his head at last, replaced with a few condescending hair ruffles. Landon let out a quiet whimper of protest.
"I think that's enough for now," another voice decided with a chuckle, delivering a final, light kick to Landon's rear. The boy yelped.
"We have other things we need to do. I'm sure Farstep would love to see this footage."
They… they were recording? Landon felt his face heat up slightly in shame and mortification, but they continued speaking as if he weren't even there.
"Yeah, you're right. But we still gotta make the video."
Landon was unceremoniously yanked off the floor by his hair and likely dislocated arm. He cried out in pain as they manhandled him into a wooden chair. It felt as if it were nailed to the ground. Then they locked a shackle around his ankle with a clattering of chains, the other end attached to the leg of the chair, and strapped his torso to the backrest using a belt.
He felt someone grab his head, and he opened his eyes just as they shoved a filthy rag into his mouth.
"Mmh—!"
A few layers of duct tape was smoothed over his lips before he could try to spit it out. He struggled against his new restraints vainly, movements weak, pained and stiff. His struggles ceased, and he groaned piteously.
A phone was suddenly shoved into his face. He flinched, gray eyes wide and filled with fear, anger, and shame as the man recording him began to speak.
"Farstep. You have twenty-four hours to come for your little protégé before we sell him to Doctor Hemato. Give yourself up, and the little blueberry will go free. But if you don't, well..."
Landon let out a startled cry as he was slapped sharply across the face, just hard enough that the brittle skin on his cheekbones tore open, blood trickling sluggishly out. He stared up at the man who had slapped him with wide eyes.
The men around him chuckled. "Well, you get the picture."
Another man, carrying a bucket, grinned nastily at Landon as he advanced. He promptly doused him in ice cold water, and the rubber superhero let out a muffled shriek, jerking violently in the chair as the cold soaked into his skin. The men guffawed as Landon tremblingly shook his hair out of his eyes, staring up at them with a miserable expression.
The man recording grinned.
"Tick tock, Farstep. The popsicle's waiting~"
The video ended, and Landon glared at the man sullenly, wincing as he condescendingly patted his bruised cheek.
"There we go. Nice and cooperative now, aren't we? You're much more fun like this instead of when you're interfering with our work."
Another man cut his arms free, yanking them out in front of him and pulling off his gloves, ignoring as the young superhero tried to pull away.
"Can't have your little fingies staying warm, can we—" he stopped, as his eyes fell upon Landon's finger prosthetics. The man couldn't help laughing as he gripped them both tighter, holding both of Landon's hands up to see them better.
"Well, looks like you don't have anythin' to keep warm there, do ya?" He mocked. Landon glared sullenly, turning away. The man poked them with a snicker before letting go, allowing Landon's hands to fall into his lap.
"I hope you enjoy your stay, Elastomer," the man who had recorded him teased, waving with only his fingers as he sauntered towards the door. "Have fun waiting for your daddy!"
Landon's eyes went wide with panic. They were going to leave him in there. He struggled desperately, fear sending his brain into overdrive, his thrashing becoming frantic as the realization of what was about to happen finally began to sink in.
"Mmph!! MMPH!"
His cries were abruptly cut off as someone slammed something hard across the side of his head.
The men grinned with cruel amusement as the young superhero slumped in the chair, knocked out cold, both figuratively and very literally. They filed out of the freezer, chortling to themselves and pleased, the lock clicking as the door shut.
...
The first thing Landon noticed, once he finally awoke, was the cold. Tingling across his fingers, his toes, and other extremities. His body, slumped like a ragdoll against the chair. His breaths shaky, and his exhales escaping his nose in a smoke-like vapor. His head felt muddled, and it took him a few moments to remember what had happened. But once he did, his head snapped back up, the skin of his neck creaking painfully. He let out a muffled whimper as he cast his eyes around the empty freezer.
He sat there for a few silent minutes, attempting to will himself into not crying. He had to stay focused, like Farstep—like Jonathan would. Figure a way out instead of—of wasting his time breaking down. But, despite his best efforts, warm tears spilled down his cheeks anyway. If only he had been more careful. If only he were more like Jonathan, then maybe...
His silent tears soon became muffled sobs, the cloth and tape making it difficult to be heard in the small, lonely freezer. His shoulders wracked with them, pain radiating across his entire body as the force of his sobs pulled at his injuries, at his stiffened skin. And, on top of his guilt at being captured, that awful, claustrophobic, familiar fear of being trapped began to return.
No. He had to get out, before Jonathan actually gave himself up to Dr. Hemato. He couldn't allow this to happen. Wouldn't.
Yes, he would get out. He'd just needed to cry first.
Composing himself, he reached up with weakly trembling hands to pull the tape off his mouth.
Except… his fingers only brushed uselessly against the side of his face.
He blinked in bleary confusion as he stared down at his hands. He could see past the straps keeping his prosthetic fingers attached to his hands, that the remaining nubs of his fingers—which were what controlled the prosthetics—were a dark, blackish purple, lined with frost. And they weren't moving.
They weren't moving.
Worse, the water that had earlier been poured over his body had frozen the hinges of the prosthetics. No matter how hard he tried, they refused to move.
"Mm—"
No, no, no.
He frantically tried to force his fingers to move, arms trembling from the strain and cold. He tried to peel the tape of his face again. And again, and again, but the metal prosthetics only brushed uselessly over his face with each attempt. He couldn't stop the tears that were welling up again, rolling down his face, alongside the build up of mini icicles on his chin. And he couldn't stop the muffled whimpers of panic from tearing themselves out of his throat.
Please. Not again, please.
But no matter how hard he tried, his fingers did not move.
Desperate, he tried to take the prosthetics off entirely. But without the aid of his fingers, they remained attached to his hands. He couldn't even move his arms quickly enough to try to break the prosthetics off entirely. His arms were so frozen by now that he could hardly move them at all.
No. All he could do was stare in quiet, helpless terror as his trembling hands stayed otherwise still.
The panic attack followed quickly after. The overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia—of being trapped in his own body, frozen and immobile despite his mind screaming to be let out, to move, to be released, to do anything—crashed into him full-force. And that horribly familiar feeling, along with those horrible, horrible memories, came slamming down on his panicked, vulnerable mind all at once.
His breaths, strained through his nostrils, inhaled and exhaled rapidly, more tears streaming down his face from sheer, desperate panic. His entire body strained against itself, sobs and gasps and whimpers muffled against the duct tape as it yanked slightly against his skin. He began to fully hyperventilate, the sounds of creaking and cracking rising from his skin.
But any movement he managed only sent more cracks across his flesh, and he could only witness, helplessly, as his own body was reduced to obeying the laws of an inanimate object.
Eventually, his struggles ceased. His sobs teetered into helpless silence, and even hyperventilating took too much energy. All he could do now was… sit. Breaths shaky through his nose, uniform tattered and torn around his still frame, bruises exposed and blood freezing on his skin. His body remained curled up against the chair, arms sticking slightly and awkwardly out in front of him, the sight almost comical as his muscles slowly froze in that stiffened up position—like a bug's corpse in rigor mortis. His tears crusted around his eyes, making it difficult to even blink, while the rest dangled off his broken nose and chin in tiny icicles.
Only his mind, clouded by increasing delirium and exhaustion, and his eyes—glazed over and miserably resigned as they stared at the door—showed any signs of life. All he could do now was wait, a frozen block of useless flesh, and pray that either Jonathan would come to save him, or that his mentor would be reasonable and decide not to risk saving him at all. After all, Landon knew that he deserved whatever happened to him next. It was what he deserved for allowing himself to be caught.
Slowly, Landon closed his eyes. Jonathan would be so disappointed him.
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This fic was based on the AMAZING drawing above by @kninewarrior-whump! THANK YOU SO MUCH DUDE THIS WAS INSANELY FUN TO WRITE!! This took a ridiculous amount of time to finish lmao. But I can't WAIT to art trade with you again!!!
Tag list: @thelazywitchphotographer @sootheandsavage
If anyone wants to join the tag list for this universe, feel free to ask!!
