TW: Noncon touch, fear of future noncon, conditioned whumpee, female whumpee, creepy/intimate whumper, insectphobia, failed escape, flashback to previous torture, former living weapon whumpee, breaking bones.
A cool rag gently wipes across Diana’s forehead as she sits slumped in her chair, trembling. Silent tears roll down her cheeks. Whatever Hive had injected into those wasps packed a punch, to put it lightly.
Vision blurry, Diana watched as Hive moved the rag downward. He wiped the blood and yellowish pus from her arms. The burst stings split her skin open, leaving a small hole where the stingers had been. “You’ll start to feel much better now, love, I promise,” he cooed, his touch gentle. The sensation made her skin crawl. Occasionally, after a bad fight, her handler would help tend to her injuries. At the academy, doctors patched her up enough that she wouldn’t die.
That was different, though. Those touches had been clinical. Hive’s palm lingered, caressing her. It was strange, she thought, as the room spun around her. There was a deep ache in her bones…. Her stomach churned, threatening to spew bile. Through the haze, she could feel a sense of satisfaction, and even…. Lust. The feeling was strongest against her thigh, where Hive’s hand rested.
His thumb traced circles against her skin as she panted, trying to stifle her tremors. “I know, I know,” he said softly. “It feels bad now. Just give it time….” Before Diana could realize what he was doing, Hive stood.
He leaned down. His lips pressed against her forehead. Every aching muscle went taut in her body, but the kiss was left as quickly as it had come. This time. “I’ll leave you to get some rest. When I come back, we’ll move you somewhere more comfortable…” Damien seemed to consider something as he looked down at her, those empty pits in his eyes piercing her very soul.
Was he going to kiss her again? Touch her? A beetle crawled up the side of his neck. She shivered. A long moment passed before he simply declared, “I’ll also bring you some food and water. Be good, love, try to get some rest.”
Then Hive turned to walk away. As he moved, the swarms of creatures on the subway floor parted for their king. Somewhere, a door shut. Then Diana was left alone with the dozens of insects left behind. In Damien’s absence, the low buzz seemed thunderous. That little circle of space around her chair was left untouched, but they were everywhere else. Wasps and bees, cockroaches, freakishly large beetles, moths, and spiders…. If she moved, would they pounce on her?
It didn’t matter. So long as she acted quickly, they wouldn’t notice. Insects weren’t like…. Capable of complex thought or strategy. Apparently, their leader wasn’t either.
By popping her stings, Hive extracted the venom that had been stifling her powers. Diana hadn’t been certain until she felt his emotions while he washed the pus off her limbs. Exhaling slowly, she closed her eyes. Her hands twisted behind her. They were bound by zipties. All of the laboratory-enhanced-heroes had enhanced strength and accelerated healing. Her limbs still felt heavy with venom, but Diana thought that if she could just….
Eyebrows knitting together in concentration, Diana gave a quick jerk. The zipties snapped. Around her, the insects began to stir. Shit. She froze, hardly daring to breathe as she watched. A few of them crept closer, but they didn’t cross that invisible line that surrounded her chair. Could Hive communicate with them? She didn’t know how his powers worked, and she didn’t want to be here long enough to find out.
Her hands thrust outward. Water burst from her palms, crashing against the concrete before her. A hundred insects were washed away. She leapt to her feet, legs aching and cramped from being restrained for hours, but she pushed herself forward.
The turnstiles were to her right. Past them were escalators, frozen in time. That would lead her to the surface. She just had to make it.
Cockroaches, moths, and wasps descended from above. Diana waved wildly. Water shot out from all sides, trying to swat them away, but there were so many, and her powers were fading fast. She was too dehydrated. Crying out, Diana launched herself over the turnstiles and pumped her legs faster, because the escalator was right there….
A sewer grate before her exploded. A geyser of…. Hundreds, thousands, of insects erupted and descended upon her. Diana had no choice but to fall to the ground, screaming. Water burst from her hands in a halfhearted attempt to force the creatures away, but there were too many, and she was too weak. Diana curled into the fetal position when her powers finally gave out, bracing for pain that never came. They weren’t attacking her. The insects just…. Circled her. Humming, incessant, their little legs and wings and antennae brushing against her goosebump-covered skin, trapping her in place.
An eternity passed. Or only a second. Truly, Diana couldn’t decide which, if it passed quickly or too slow. But if asked afterwards, she would have preferred to stay trapped within the insects dome than face the demon who ordered the creatures to part.
Hive didn’t speak. At least, not in a language that Diana could understand. For now, it was undeniable that he could communicate with the insects. With a wave of his hand, the thousands of winged creatures flew away at once, retreating into their crevices and shadows.
His form was even more intimidating where she lay crumbled before him. Diana planted her hands on the ground, trying to push herself up, but his hand fisted in her hair first. A sharp cry escaped her. “No, no, no—”
Electricity shot through her, spearing through her neck into her very core. The woman ignored EI427’s screams. “When you are punished, you accept it with dignity,” she snapped. Diana was thrown into her cell, where other guards were waiting. They chained her arms above her head, facing the wall. Someone tore off her shirt to leave her back exposed.
She couldn’t stop her whimpers, or how she shook her head. “Pl-”Agony coursed in her veins. It stole her breath. She doubled over, teeth gritted as the collar continued to shock her, unrelenting. Without mercy. When the whipping began, every scream that escaped her lips was met with a shock.
The cycle continued until EI427 blacked out. When she came to, she was still strapped to the wall. Her lesson wasn’t learned yet.
Diana clamped her mouth shut as she was dragged across the concrete. Her arms and legs scraped against stone, and all she could do was try to crawl after him enough to limit the searing pain in her scalp. Between their proximity and the contact, Diana could feel his utter fury, and a strange sense of…. Betrayal. A fierce sense of protection—no, not protection. More twisted than that. What he felt was closer to possession.
He finally stopped when they reached a room down the tunnels. Originally, it was surely a supply closet, or maybe a break room, but it had since been turned into a bedroom. He threw her on the bed, and began to tie her limbs down.
No. No, no, no…. Diana whimpered, shaking her head furiously. A scream begged to be released from her throat. Pleas for mercy. Cries that she couldn’t do this, didn’t know how, don’t, don’t, anything but that please…. Damien looked down at her. While his expression was stone-cold, his emotions were anything but. They were raging. Ever-changing, a fucking hurricane of feelings. Slowly, Diana grasped a sense of pity. His anger had turned to something softer, now that he saw her strapped down before him, unable to scream.
The mattress creaked beneath her as Hive perched on the edge. One rough hand reached out, caressing the line of her throat. Specifically, the burns left from years of wearing that cursed collar.
“We will work on this,” he said softly. His thick eyebrows knitted together as he made the vow. “But we can’t yet. Not when you’re so insistent on leaving me.” The empty pits met Diana’s wild, sapphire gaze. He leaned down, teeth grazing at her earlobe. His breath was hot on her skin.
Off. Get off, get off, get…. Get off…. Every muscle went taut, and she was tied down but she could pull free, she could, she had the strength. She could fight him. He would punish her, sting her again, but she could at least try it was just….
Diana couldn’t make herself. There was nothing stopping her except her own mind. But how could you fight your mind?
She squeezed her eyes shut as Damien nipped her ear, then kissed and bit his way down her throat. Sucking. Teeth sinking into skin. Claiming her, even more than the burn scars already had. And she said nothing. Did nothing except lie there, shaking. “You know you belong here,” Hive crooned.
There was mint on his breath.
“Why would you try to leave? I’ll just find you again…. Or the REIA will first. Do you really want that?”
His hands were rough, groping her breasts through her bra and t-shirt.
No one had touched her like this.
But he didn’t go lower. Didn’t take off her clothes. Hive stood, the bed shifting as his weight lifted, and a little, broken sob spilled from her lips. She didn’t cry, though. She felt like a dried-out grape after using her powers.
“I didn’t want to hurt you again, baby….”
Something heavy hit the ground, then there was the sound of digging around in a drawer or box. Diana pried her eyes open and craned her neck to see. She didn’t want to see. But she needed to.
A bright red toolbox was in the center of the dirty, stained floor. Damien dug around in it until he pulled out a large hammer.
It was hard to tell from across the room, but she thought he felt pity. Intermingled with that, though, was a sense of determination. “This won’t kill you,” he said softly. “You’ll heal fast, we both know that. As long as you’re a good girl, and don’t try anything stupid, it won’t completely cripple you.”
Her eyes widened. She couldn’t make herself pull at the restraints, but she did lick her lips, trying to force out sound. “What…. Do you….” The words were so quiet. Her voice broke.
A shadow crossed over Damien’s face. Keeping the hammer in one hand, he turned around and dug in another drawer until he withdrew a washcloth. His shadow loomed over her as he returned to the side of the bed. “Open your mouth.”
She obeyed without thinking. He shoved the cloth inside. “Just for a moment, baby. I don’t want you to bite through your tongue.” Damien’s hand caressed the side of her face.
Then that same hand joined the other as he slammed the hammer down on her left foot once, twice, three times, until it was nothing but a demolished sack of bones and flesh.
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Tag List!!!! @stars-hide-our-fires, @watsonbee
@cepheusgalaxy do you want me to add you to the tag list? No pressure, feel free to say no, but I wasn't sure if I should tag you or not.
This is a bit of whump writing I did for an OC, it's pretty long so it's under the cut. It's part of a story I'm not sure if I'll pick up again
Super basic context: Vixen is a part of a robin hood style type gang where they use animal masks to hide their identities, and she has just been captured by the sheriff! (Also magic exists, she does illusions.)
4806 words, only mildly proofread.
The blindfold was yanked off and Vixen was quite literally thrown into the cell, she turned her shoulder before she hit the wall with a heavy thud and slid to the ground. She looked up, making her face terrified, confused, and in pain. Not too far from reality, but exaggerated. Damian, that cursed sheriff, too smart, stood in the doorway of the dark cell looking down at her. Where was she? She didn't hear any other prisoners down here, and there were too many stairs and turns that she thought the jail had. Damian walked forward and she cowered, pleading
"Please, I don't understand! You must have the wrong person!" He left the cell door open. Idiot. He walked forward and she shrunk against the wall, trying to look terrified and innocent. He smirked and said
"Don't lie to me little fox. I know who you are." She opened her mouth to speak, but he was faster, his arm striking out like a snake to grab her injured arm. She let out a yelp of pain as his fingers touched her unprotected injury, pulling it up towards him and saying
"I inflicted this myself." She tried to pull away, but he held her arm tight. He brought his other hand to her arm and traced the injury just within the edges, causing her to take sharp breaths of pain as he said
"You feel the edges of this? My weapon did that." Real tears of pain welled up as she said
"Please! Let me go! I got it while running jobs!" He laughed and pressed on it, causing another yelp from her, before he let go, saying
"Running jobs, huh? What a perfect cover. So many of the scum come to this quarter to run errands for pitances of coin, with no record, and with so many of you vermin running around, recognition is minimal." He reached out and grabbed her face, forcing her to look up at him as she tried to pull away. He narrowed his eyes and said
"It'd send you all over, and no one would notice if you were listening. Perfect for a spy." He let go and she shrunk away, letting out fake sobs and saying
"Please, I just want to support my family! I haven't done anything wrong!" He sighed and moved away slightly. Perfect. First, cover her hands with an illusion, then get started at undoing the handcuffs. He sighed and asked
"How long are you going to keep up with this little fox?" She looked up at him and said
"Sheriff, please, I don't-"
"Stop lying to me. I know who you are. What is your name?"
"Elizabeth Lorton, please, I haven't done anything" Vixen lied as she caught the cuffs that came undone. Time for the hard part. She cast an Illusion of herself over herself, then kept her real self invisible as she stepped up, placing her feet quietly, moving away slowly as he sighed and said
"Elizabeth, I don't have the patience for this. You are one of the theives I've been hunting. Specifically the fox. You also spy for them. I know this, and so do you, so stop lying, and you'll come out of this easier." Vixen, invisible, smirked and rolled her eyes, then had her illusion answer desperately
"I swear, I'm not. I don't understand, I don't know what you're talking about!” Vixen slipped out of the cell as Damian stepped closer to the illusion and snapped
“Stop lying girl!” Vixen had the illusion plead
“I'm not! Please sheriff! I'm innocent!” Then Vixen took off down the hallway, well, the part of it. She came to a spiral staircase and began climbing, running as fast as she could. After a second, she heard Damian laugh and call
“You can't escape, tricky fox!” Vixen ignored him and kept climbing, until she finally came to the door. She carefully pushed it open and looked outside.
Oh no. She was on a private estate. the door was at the end of a hall, with a window on one side, showing a courtyard. She checked for guards, and seeing none, She closed the door and raced down the hallway, trying every door and window she came across. All locked, and all would take too much time to pick with Damian chasing. She turned down a hallway, and found an unlocked door. She slipped in, only to see more hallways.
Vixen kept running, getting completely lost after a few doors. She stopped at another one, catching her breath and looking back. She didn't see him, but she was lost, with no way out. Alright, she could get out, she just needed a window. Maybe through this door, and one more, on the right. She raced through and opened a door, only for her arm to be grabbed and lifted, hard enough it felt like it was being pulled out of its socket. She looked at her attacker and saw the smirking Damian, who said
“Oh, little fox. You thought you could escape, didn't you? But you only blew any claim of being innocent.” She struggled against him, kicking and thrashing. He smirked and went to speak, when she got a hit right in his gut. The moment her boot hit him, he threw her, sending her flying into a wall. Vixen hit the wall, and heard a sickening crack in her chest as she screamed in the sudden pain. She sunk to the ground and gasped to regain her breath, but a sharp pain stabbed through her. Oh no, she must have broken a rib. She tried to keep her breaths shallow as she went to get up, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. She looked up as Damian straightened up and looked at her. He walked over with a scowl and picked her up, grabbing her wrists and pulling her to her feet, saying
“Don't try that again little fox.” She hissed at him and he chuckled, saying
“Not so upset now I see.” He grabbed her arm and yanked, causing a duel Pop and scream of pain. Vixen's knees buckled as her vision went spotty and he snapped
“Calm down little fox, it's just dislocated.” He dropped her and she took a sharp breath as she touched her shoulder. She tried to yank her feet away when she felt him touch them, but he grabbed them and she looked down to see him putting A pair of cuffs on them. He snapped
“I'll get better Things later, to keep you under control. A friend of mine has something that'll stop the illusions. Hands.” She yanked her hands away and he sighed, striking out and grabbing one wrist, then the one on her dislocated arm. He cuffed them as well, then picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder and walking To a door. She tried to kick and he snapped
“Do you want me to break your legs?” She froze and resigned herself to paying attention to where he went. Locked door. Hallway, 3rd locked door on the right. More hallway, lots Of twists and turns, more doors, and she was lost by the time he opened another door and she saw the hallway she started in. She looked out the window as the passed it. He paused in the sunlight, And said
“Enjoy the sunlight while I open this door. You won't be seeing it for a while.” She tried to jerk, but he steadied her on his shoulder with a chuckle. She heard him unlock the door and step forward, and she tried to jerk away again, but He put his arm over her and held her tight. He stepped in and locked the door behind them, saying
“I guessed you may try to escape, so I left you a pathway of unlocked doors, while I went the faster way and caught you. You fell right into my trap, little fox.” She jerked and he let go, saying
“I'd stop jerking. I might drop you down the stairs, and it's a long fall.” She paused. He did have a point. With her Feet and hands restrained, she would just fall, and break more things. She took a breath and flinched at the pain. He chuckled and she clenched her teeth. Well, he wasn't going to be nice to get information from her. Thank goodness she took so many precautions. She couldn’t give away their names Or describe their faces, no matter how much he Hurt her. Since Owl and Crow were the ones taking care of hiding loot before distribution, that Wasn't something she could give away either. Now, she just had to not die. Or… bite off her tongue and choke on the blood, but that was not an ideal solution. He walked down the stairs and took her off his shoulder when they reached the cell. He put her down and asked
“Are we going to make this easy or hard?” She glared at him and jerked away. He sighed and said
“Hard. Alright then.” He kneeled down and grabbed her arm, shoving it back into place. She let out another scream at the sudden pain, then tried to take a deep breath, but that caused another stab of pain. She swallowed a sob and glared at him. He grabbed her hand and asked
“What is your name? I know you were lying before.” She smirked and said
“Damian Harrington.” He glared at her and grabbed her hands, then grabbed one of her fingers and held it in a position that would make it easy to break her finger. He asked again
“What is your name?” Vixen took a deep breath, ignoring the pain, then said
“Vanessa Harrington.” From what she heard, that was his mother's name. She didn’t have time to be smug before pain erupted in her hand and she let out a scream. When the spots cleared from her blurry vision, she saw him staring back at her, asking
“Name? Real name.” She spat through the tears of pain
“Little fox-” He broke another finger and she yelled in pain, then took gasping breaths of pain as she sobbed from the pain. She couldn’t do that again. She couldn’t do that again. She couldn’t do that again. He grabbed another finger and started to ask
“What is your-”
“Vixen!” She sobbed out. He started pressing and she made a gasping yelp and she snapped
“It’s Vixen! I swear! It’s why I chose Fox!” He let go and she pulled her hands to her chest, sobbing in pain. He asked
“Last name?” She looked up and flinched back, snapping
“My family has nothing to do with any of this! They don’t know!” He glared down at her and she flinched away, saying
“They don’t know. They don’t know. They don’t know. They don’t know.” He paused, then said
“Alright. I’ll believe you on that.” She let out a relieved breath. That was the one thing she knew when she first started, she would never drag them into danger. Never. He asked
“How many of you are there?”
“Twenty.” She said. He frowned and raised an eyebrow and she said
“That was a lie, thirty.” He asked
“Do I need to break more fingers?”
“I will bite my tongue off.” He grabbed her hand and she struggled to pull away again, screeching
“No no no!”
“Then tell me the truth.” He said, before snapping another finger, on the other hand this time. She screamed and began sobbing again from the pain in her hands, chest, shoulder, and her arm. He grabbed another finger and she yelped, the words muddled through her sobs
“Four! There’s four, I don’t know their names!” He let go and she curled up, sobbing. He sighed and said
“I’ll be back tomorrow. You’re too much of a mess at the moment, little fox.” She flinched and sobbed onto the ground as he walked away, closed the cell door and locked it.
This was bad. This was so bad. Vixen took a few shallow breaths, then looked down at her hands. Oh no. Vixen swallowed, then carefully used her thumb and pinky to move her fingers back into place, yelping with every movement. Ok. Two more. Two more. She slowly got started on the next one, sobbing. It hurt, it hurt so so so much. But she needed to, otherwise it would heal wrong. She was going to get out of here, she was going to get out of here. She knew that. She was sure of that. Right? Her friends, they’d come for her. They’d come for her. Right? But… they didn’t know where she was. She didn’t know where she was. She was in some prison tower, in a maze of a private estate. She was injured and cuffed, three of her fingers were broken, two on one hand, and one on the other, so she couldn’t even try to pick the lock. This was bad. He was getting information out of her too easily. She finished working on her fingers and gave up on doing anything but lying limp on the floor and sobbing in pain. Was she going to get out of here? What else might he do to her? How long would she be here? What could the others do? And after Damian was done… she would hang. That thought shook her. She would hang. She always knew that could happen if any of them got caught, but… she never thought they would get caught. She knew it was a danger that she was in the rich section so often, running jobs, but… the rich folks never cared enough to look at her too hard. She’d never gotten hurt before, been too quick. The old sheriff hadn’t ever been able to even touch them.
Yet Damian had. He’d almost caught them his first night. He identified the masks of two of them. He’d figured out there was a spy. He nearly caught them at every turn. He’d given her an identifiable injury. He’d known to look out for someone listening in. He’d noticed her, and noticed the bandage on her arm. Then he got guards to sneak up on her without her noticing and captured her.
What would her friends do if they noticed she was gone? No, they weren’t her family, when they noticed. Likely tonight when she didn’t show up to the meeting. Well, Owl would be panicking, Bunny would also be freaking out, and Crow would be determined to find her and get her out. Yeah, that sounded right. Then, once Crow got Owl and Bunny calmed down, they would make a plan. They would make a plan, find her, and get her out. Maybe even tonight. Or tomorrow night. She just needed to hold out. She’d be alright.
She just needed to stay strong. She'd prepared for this. She'd prepared For this possibility. She kept Information from herself so she wouldn't spill it. She'd already spilled too much. Not again. She'd said there were four. Now he knew that he'd Already taken down a fourth of them. He now knew that he only needed to find three more. Ok. That was bad, but not horrible.
As for her name… Hopefully he didn't hurt her family. Please don't let him hurt her family. Anything but that.
Vixen closed her eyes and took a shallow breath.
She'd be out of here soon. She just needed to survive. Keep her head up. Don't give up. Keep fighting. Lie, or stay silent. Don't let him win. Don't Let him win.
She slipped into sleep, exhausted.
Footsteps. Keys Clacking against each other.
Vixen's eyes snapped open and She carefully sat up. That must be Damian. She took shallow breaths, telling herself.
Head up. Don't let him win. Don't give the information he wants. Dont-
She gasped as a sort of sharp Pain went through her heart and head, then faded.
What was that?
Vixen was distracted by her thoughts as she saw a faint glow come into the area in front of the cell. What was that? It wasn't sunlight. Her question was answered as Damian came into view, carrying a golden ring that felt… wrong. It glowed, but the glow was wrong. The glow was gold, yet cold. It lit up the cell dimly, hurting dully when it touched her, and it lit up Damian's triumphant Smirk. He gave her a look and said
“More resilient than you seem, aren't you?” She glared back and snapped in a voice that was horser than she wanted.
“Yeah. I am.” He narrowed his eyes, then lifted the ring with a smirk and asked
“Any guesses what this is?” She put on a false smirk and said
“Yeah, useless.” He laughed and hung the ring on a small hook on the wall across from the cell. She looked at it, then quickly away. Looking at it directly hurt her head. He leaned on the bars and asked with a smirk
“Something wrong little fox?” She shot a glare at him, her eyes flicking to the keys at his belt, in full view. Maybe she could get up and take them. Try another illusion. Just enough to take the keys. Her legs were unharmed, hopefully she could move a little bit with the cuffs around her ankles. She tried to take a deep breath, but flinched at the pain in her chest. She leaned back against the wall, still glaring at him. She went to pull from that little feeling to cast an illusion, when her entire body was racked with sharp burning pain. She let out a scream and curled up. As the pain faded, she heard him laughing. When she looked back up at him, hot tears blurring her vision as her head and heart ached, he smirked and said
“Tried to use your illusions, didn’t you little fox.” She took a shallow breath and snapped
“What is that?” He smiled and pulled out one of the keys, starting to unlock the cell as he said
“It keeps you from using your magic.” He entered the cell and she couldn’t stop herself from shrinking against the wall, which made him smile more as he walked forward. She tried to move away, her heart beating fast as he kneeled down in front of her. His hand lashed out and grabbed her chin tightly, saying
“It has no effect on normal people like myself. But it restraints demons like you.” He tilted her head to look at it and flaring pain erupted in her mind again as she looked at it. She clenched her jaw and closed her eyes, but she could still see the glow through her eyelids, and it still hurt, just lesser. After a second, he let go and she quickly moved her face into the shadow he cast on her. Immediately, she felt relief. Then panic again as he grabbed her hands and frowned, saying
“You set them back into place.” She yanked her hands away and glared at him. He glared back at her and said
“The glaring was funny at first. Now it’s annoying.” She opened her mouth, and he hit her across the face, she fell to the side and hit the ground with a thud and a yelp of pain. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back up, leaning her against the wall in the light again, bringing the dull pain back. He snapped his fingers in front of her face, making her open her eyes and look at him as he leaned forward and asked
“How are we gonna do this today?” She gathered a ball of saliva, and spat in his face. He made a sound of disgust and wiped his face off. She clenched her jaw and got ready. Maybe he’d forget about any information he wanted if she made him mad. After a second, he glared at her and said
“Oh little fox, you don’t know all you’ve gotten into.” She glared at him and went to spit again when he grabbed her hair and slammed her head back into the wall. She let out an animalistic sound of pain, and a yelp when he slammed her head again. He slammed it a third time and her vision went black.
“Wake up little fox. I can't have you passing out on me yet.” Oh, her head hurt. It hurt so much. She blearily opened her eyes with a small whimper. He lifted her chin as he carefully leaned her against the wall. He snapped his fingers in front of her face. She blinked to try and clear Her blurry vision, only to see his smirking face as he said
“You passed out for a second.” Anger flared up and she yelled
“Maybe because you slammed my head into the wall you-” He hit her again, the other side of her face this time. She let out a yelp and he caught her, setting her back up. He asked
“Do you have any more comments before we get started?” She glared at him and went to curse at him, earning another hit And he said
“Oh, little fox. Language.” Tears of pain ran hot down her face as she glared at him, but kept her mouth closed. He smiled and touched her leg, a jolt Of fear went through her and she tried to move away. Nonononono. He couldn't, he-
Damian glanced at her face and laughed, moving His Hand to the floor and shifting his position. When he finished, he smirked and said
“Oh little Fox. You don't need to be scared of anything like that. I have honor.” He grabbed her throat and hissed
“Unlike thieves. Or spies.” He squeezed and she tried to gasp for air as he strangled her. As black entered her vision, he let go and she gasped for air, swallowing it. Then she took too deep of a breath and pain shot through her chest again. She let out a little whimper. He lifted her chin with a couple of fingers, making her look back at that bright painful light, and said
“The four of you chose to have masks disguising yourselves as animals. The more I think about it, the more it fits. You are an honorless animal, little fox.” She ripped her head away and he laughed, grabbing it and hissing in her face,
“Something about animals. They can break. Then they’re docile. They give up. And so will you. You will give me what I want. You will answer my questions” She glared at him and snapped
“No I won’t. I’ll fight till I hang.” He smiled and said
“We’ll see about that.” He leaned forward and said quietly
“If you behave, do what I want you to, tell me all you know, you may live.” Vixen froze, then let out a bark of a laugh and looked at him, saying
“Damien, you’re not a good liar. Besides, I’ll never betray my friends.” He laughed and said
“We’ll see about that.” He paused, and she glared at him. After a moment, he smiled and asked
“You care more about them than you do yourself, don’t you?” She gave a small eyeroll, but kept her mouth shut. He hit her, hard, then grabbed her face and said in a sickly sweet voice
“That was a question. I expect an answer.” She forced a smile and said
“Well you’re not getting one. Same answer with-” He hit her again, sending her to the ground without catching her this time. Vixen closed her eyes and took steady breaths. She’d be ok. Just hold out. Stay defiant. Make him give up on getting information.
She wouldn’t die here. If she was going to die, she was sure Damien would make sure it was a public hanging, as an example. She opened her eyes and looked up when she heard metal.
He had a knife.
He had a knife.
He had a knife.
She struggled as he moved her back up. She lashed out with her legs and he grabbed them, tucking her lower legs under him, immobilizing them. He looked at the knife and said
“Alright. Let’s start with our first question. We’ll work on it as long as needed. If you answer me the first time, I won’t hurt you. Understood?” She glared at him and he pressed the knife to her arm, saying
“That was a question”
“And I chose not to awn-” He pressed the blade into her skin, pulling down slightly, separating the skin from her arm and she let out a scream of pain. When he was done, he said
“Little fox. You don’t get to choose. If you don’t answer, or you lie, you get hurt. Understood?”
“Yes, yes.” She gasped out. He smiled and lifted the blade. She took a few deep breaths, trying to ignore the sharp Pain in her chest, and the burning pain in her arm. He snapped and she jumped, looking up Again. He smiled and said
“Good. Let's begin.” She glared at him and he smacked her, not as hard this time, then snapped to get her attention again as he said
“Try to be a little respectful, little fox. You're at my mercy.” She glared and snapped
“What mercy?” He grabbed her neck and slammed her back against the wall again, Getting in her face and Saying
“I'm giving you the option to avoid pain. I'm not killing you now. I'm being more merciful than you deserve, little fox.” He tightened his grip and she struggled for air as he said
“Without being merciful, you'd already be a broken little fox.” He slammed her and said
“You're a traitorous thief and spy. If I didn't need the information you have, I would cut out That lying tongue And rip out those spying eyes.” She brought Her hands up and tried to pull his hand away from her throat, but he only squeezed tighter, her vision darkening, and he hissed
“If I wasn't merciful, your corpse would be hanging from the wall for all to see. For all to see what happens to spies and thieves.” As her vision went dark, he let go and she gasped for air, her vision returning, as he said
“But I am merciful.” He snapped and She flinched away, looking at him as he smiled and said
“So you're alive, and can avoid pain by answering My questions.” She looked down and touched her neck tenderly with her fingers. He snapped and she Looked up again. He grabbed her arm and said
“Let's start. Are you the only One of the four that has magic?” She clenched her jaw and prepared herself, glaring at him. He sighed and said
“And that's a simple question.” He pressed the knife to her skin and she let out a high pitched, breathy sound of pain as he slowly dragged it down her arm, peeling her skin off. She screamed and he paused, he snapped to make her look at her again as he asked
“Is there anyone else in the four that has magic? Who?” Vixen gathered her strength and snapped
“That’s two-” He started again and she let out another long scream. She devolved into sobs as he kept going, begging
“Stop! Stop! Stop please! Please!” He paused and said
“I will if you tell me. Do any of the other have magic?” She couldn’t betray Crow. If she said yes, he might use that ring, that continued to hurt her head and heart, against him too. She clenched her jaw and hissed
“I'm not telling you.” Then she screamed as he started again. After a second that lasted forever, she screamed a lie
“I don't know!” He pressed harder and yelled Over her scream
“Then you would have told me that earlier.” He continued, and her screams mixed with sobs. He paused and she tried to move away, clenching Her jaw. He sighed and removed the knife, saying
“I only have so much time for you. So I'll stop this.” She Let out a sigh of relief and collapsed against the wall. He grabbed her arm and she was yanked back up with a yelp. He put the knife down and pulled out a needle and thread. He smiled and asked
“Do you know what I'm about to do?” She shrunk away. He yanked her back, tightening his hand on her arm. He asked
“Do you know? I Expect an answer.” She tried to move away as she squeaked
“No” He smiled and lifted the already threaded needle and said
“I can't have you bleeding out, or an infection getting too bad. So I'll sew the skin back on.”
Warnings for hand whump, breaking bones, torture, electric shock
As ALWAYS, thanks to the AMAZING @whumpcereal for the beta. And to my whumperful crew that always cheers me on: @oddsconvert and @sparrowsage as well as @quietly-by-myself. Y'all are the best!
Sloppy Bandages | Self-Done First Aid | Makeshift Splint
“Please. Please, no more. I’m sorry! I swear it won’t happen again. I just reacted! I was scared. Please!”
The last word was a scream as Whumper snapped Whumpee’s pointer finger backwards. It joined the other fingers and thumb on his right hand that whumper had broken one by one as punishment for ashing out and hitting Whumper while Whumper tied him to a chair.
Now, Whumpee was confined to the high-backed chair and unable to protect himself while Whumper decided what to break next. They shrieked as Whumper feinted toward them.
Whumper laughed at their screams. “You brought this on yourself, little dove. You know better than to fight back.”
Whumper took the small metal clamps that were hooked up to the electrical unit he was fond of using when he had Whumpee tied to this chair and placed one on the tip of each broken finger on Whumpee’s hand.
“No, no! Please don’t. It already hurts so much.”
“Don’t fret, Whumpee. I’ll give you some splints later on, and you can fix your hand. But for right now, I need you to know just how stupid you were.”
“I know. Fuck! I already know. Please!”
Whumper just smirked and pulled out another set of clamps that he applied to the tips of Whumpee’s good fingers.
“You apparently forgot. So, this should help you remember.”
“No. No! I’ll remember. I’ll remmfph!” An all too familiar rubber bit was shoved between his teeth and buckled around his head.
Whumpee shook his head desperately, still trying to beg and plead with Whumper that he would remember his place. That he wouldn’t fight. He was just here so that Whumper had someone to play with, in any way whumper wanted. Whumpee had no right to fight back. He knew that. He’d sort of accepted it. He wouldn’t fight again. He had so many things he wanted to say to Whumper to get him to change his mind, but they were all trapped behind the rubber bit.
Whumpee’s back arched and his fingers, both broken and whole alike, danced with electricity. Whumpee would never forget the lesson he learned that day. Suffering could always get worse. Things rarely got better. His fingers shook off and on for the next week and no amount of splinting them could ease the agony of those muscle tremors.
Summary: Engie's finished making his fancy new mechanical hand. Now all he's gotta do is get ready to attach it to himself.
Upon seeing more stuff reminding me of the fanon idea that Engie cut his own hand off in order to equip the gunslinger I was filled with a sudden mighty need to write that happening. Strong enough that I wrote during my end of the year break from creating stuff. I didn't have a mighty need to edit it though which is why it's going up now. Also, Spy got added in as bonus at the end just for fun because I ship it and because someone needed to at least lightly scold Engie for this.
Probably unnecessary given teh summary and author's note but CONTENT WARNING for self-inflicted dismemberment and breaking bones.
~
Perhaps waiting for Medic to return to base before doing this in case things went bad would be wise. Assuming Medic wouldn’t stop him anyway, which was possible because Medic was far from a normal medical practitioner, but uncertain and thus Engie would rather do it by himself. Besides, if things ended up going too, too badly, he’d turned Respawn on so it’d be fine regardless. Though, likely, that would mean having to redo the whole thing which wouldn’t be fun. He was fairly confident he knew what he was doing well enough that that safety measure wouldn’t have to come into play though so onward he would forge.
His work bench, raised to a comfortable height, already had everything he would need laid out on it. He double checked it anyway though before making sure his workshop’s door was locked as well – the last thing he needed or wanted was someone coming in on him in the middle of this. Upon returning to the table, he was tempted to triple or even quadruple check everything but… that would just be delaying and the sooner he got this part done with, the better.
He wasn’t quite as drunk as he’d hoped to be, just barely a step beyond tipsy really, but he also didn’t want to risk becoming too drunk to do things properly. So before he could sober up any more than he already unfortunately was, he grabbed the leather belt from off the table and wrapped it around his arm, just below his elbow, making sure it was as tight as he could physically make it. Immediately uncomfortable but not painful, perhaps due to the alcohol.
After waiting for a few minutes for the tingling numbness to set into his hand in hopes of that acting as additional pain relief, he leaned over the table and laid his arm down on it. Next, with his free hand, he picked up the saw. He’d have used Medic’s bone saw but alas Medic had brought it with him when leaving base. It was the strongest and sharpest saw he could find though so hopefully it would do. Holding it tight, he placed it against his flesh, a few inches off from his wrist and…
No, he needed something to bite. No amount of inebriation short of being full anesthetized – an impossibility for obvious reasons given his desire to do this by himself – would make this a pain free operation. The slight tremor of his hand caused the saw to clatter against the metal workbench as he placed it back down. A thin cut where the saw blade had touched his flesh oozed a couple drops of blood. Between the alcohol and the numbness, he couldn’t feel it at all, a good sign, hopefully.
Turning away, he scanned his workshop for something suitable. … Ah, a rag. Not the cleanest thing in the world but it had been washed recently and with half the team away on contract missions they hadn’t been in active battle lately so it wasn’t actively covered in machine grease either. He grabbed it, stuffed it in his mouth – it tasted exactly how one would expect it to – and set up again.
This time he didn’t let himself hesitate for even a moment before pressing the saw into his forearm. Naturally it cut through his flesh without issue. Painful but nothing he couldn’t handle. The bone however, that hurt a lot more. He almost stopped but… if he did there was a chance he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to finish and that just wouldn’t do. So, biting down on the rag, he continued sawing, his movements sharp and forceful.
Forcing himself to focus on the sawing motion instead of the searing pain in his right arm, he counted the motions. One… two… one… two… like sawing through a plank of wood. … A particularly tough plank of wood that oozed blood and set his arm screaming for him to stop and yank away from the saw.
His vision blurred as his eyes watered. He couldn’t blink it away fast enough. He was going to throw up or scream or both.
He stopped. The saw clattered loudly as he dropped it on the table. He spat out the rag allowing him to pant for breath as he sunk down to sit on the floor before his quivering knees gave out beneath him. Forcing himself to breath deep and steady he held his arm out and away until he felt a bit steadier, a bit less like he was going go vomit, before looking at it.
The belt was doing its job as a tourniquet fairly well; there was plenty of blood oozing from the injury and running down his arm to drip off his fingers to the floor but not enough for to be an immediate cause for worry. It also allowed him to see how deep he’d managed to saw which… wasn’t very. Turns out bone was a lot harder to saw through than he’d anticipated. In his defense he’d never had to saw through bone before.
Groaning, he looked up at the ceiling. How the fuck was he going to do this? His pain tolerance was high, especially after dying and going through Respawn as many times as he had, but there were limits to what he could stand and even more so, limits to what he could inflict on himself. There was just no way he could keep it up for long enough to get all the way through the bone.
He could build a machine to do it for him. Then all he’d have to do was strap himself to it. It’d be a simple build but… would take time to make, at least a day or two. And having already started, the pain in his arm would make it take even longer. What other choice did he have though? …
Well, the main problem was how hard it was to saw through the bone, right? If he broke it at the right spot, that wouldn’t be a problem anymore now would it?
With a groan, he forced himself to his feet. The longer he thought about this, the harder it would be to get himself to do it. First though, he grabbed the bottle of whiskey he’d been drinking out of earlier and took another long drink from it. Cheap and strong, it burned like a bitch and tasted awful but was a welcome distraction. Tempting as it was to down the whole thing and thus likely drown his consciousness as well, he forced himself to put it down when there was still a fourth of the bottle left. He’d finish it after this operation was complete.
Head swimming either from alcohol, pain and blood loss or both, he stumbled around to the other side of his work bench. Lucky for him, the new vise he’d just got in a couple weeks ago was big enough to slot his arm into. He lined it up so that the cut he’d already made was just outside the vise’s metal mouth, his hand and wrist on the other side.
He grasped the crank and started turning it. The vise closed on his wrist and forearm. First just secure, then tight, then painful, then very painful. Gritting his teeth, he kept turning and turning until… snap. Somehow he heard it a split second before he felt it. He barely held back a scream, biting down on his lip instead hard enough to draw blood. The coppery taste of it flooding his mouth brought him back to himself enough to started rapidly turning the crank the other way.
As soon as he could, he took his arm out. Every little movement sent jagged spikes of pain through his entire arm that no amount of numbness or alcohol could do much to relieve. Despite that, his instinct was to clutch it close, protect it from further arm. Fighting that instinct with deep breaths, he laid out his arm on the table again instead. Thinking being unwise right now, he grabbed the saw and started sawing again.
Much easier physically but harder psychologically. He hadn’t gotten to where he was today through being mentally weak though so he pressed on. Sawing and sawing and sawing until… the blade’s teeth hit the blood covered metal table underneath, scrapping horrible against it.
Dropping it, uncaring as it clattered against the table, he stepped back, leaving his hand behind on the table. He lifted his arm to look at his new stump. It was not as clean an amputation as he’d have liked, it wasn’t straight and the bone break was jagged and uneven but he could make do with this.
But, even if thanks to the makeshift tourniquet, it did not gush as much blood as a severed limb usually would, it was still quite a lot. Enough to be worried about. He needed to bandage it sooner rather than later.
He only took one step towards heading around to the other side of the workbench where he’d left the medical supplies before his legs gave out though. As much as the whiskey had burned going down, it burned even more as it came back up. Even as darkness ate at the edges of his vision, he did his best to keep it off himself. Perhaps alcohol had been a poor choice of pain relief and prevention, especially since it hadn’t seemed to do a whole lot towards that effort. … Something to think about for next time. Because if he couldn’t stop this bleeding in time, he’d die and Respawn, likely with his hand back. Ugh! He’d been so close! But he didn’t have the strength fight the pull of unconsciousness eating at his mind and it hurt too much for him to really want to either.
~
The pounding of his head, once set in, made it impossible to just roll over and go back to sleep. He tried to anyway, earning a sharp stab of pain in his right arm that had him jerking the rest of the way awake.
He opened his eyes and lifted his hand to look at it. It was gone. Replacing it was a bloodstained bandage. … It had worked! His hand was gone and he hadn’t died in the process of removing it. Now all he had to do was wait for it to heal a little bit and attach his new mechanical hand. Hopefully it wouldn’t take long before...
“You’re awake.”
Engie flinched, snapping his head to the side to see Spy standing up from a chair by the unlit fireplace on the other side of the room. Spy’s room actually. Which explained why the bed Engie lay on was so soft and luxurious. In hindsight not too surprising given the bandage and the fact that he’d survived when the last thing he remembered was passing out in a puddle of his own vomit. Still not an ideal situation to be in though.
The pounding in his head pulsed in time with the throbbing in his arm as he carefully sat up to lean back against the headboard. He’d have like to stand but… didn’t quite dare yet. “Aren’t you supposed to be off on a mission?”
Spy had strode over to stand by the bedside as he’d struggled to sit up and now looked down at him, his expression unreadable under the mask. “I got back earlier today.”
“And broke into my workshop,” Engie interrupted before he could say anything more. He wasn’t exactly mad about it, especially given the circumstances, but he wasn’t particularly pleased that that was apparently one of the first things Spy had done upon returning to base.
“Yes. I knocked but you did not answer and well, as that is unlike you, I grew worried and decided to invite myself in. Good thing I did too else I’m sure you would’ve bled to death. Now would you like to explain why exactly you cut your hand off?” Spy’s tone had remained neutral right up until that last sentence at which point he sounded almost a little angry. Which was perhaps fair given how it must look.
Engie shifted to sit up a bit straighter. “I’m replacing it. I built myself a new hand that should make it easier to work on my machines.” He wouldn’t have to carry around a wrench everywhere he went anymore.
“What if I hadn’t come along and you had died in this attempt?”
“I turned Respawn on.”
“It’s not supposed to be on so what if Miss Pauling had caught that it was on and turned it back off?”
Engie hadn’t thought of that but the chances were low, Miss Pauling was too busy for that. “Are you accusing me of being secretly suicidal or something?”
“Non. If you were, you’d go about it differently. I am however accusing you of being careless of your health and safety.”
“We all are. Killing folk ain’t exactly the safest of professions even with the fancy-smancy Respawn room bringing us back when we die.”
“Yes, but… this is extreme. Are you okay, Laborer?”
The seemingly genuine concern in Spy’s voice was surprising to say the least. Engie had suspected for a while now that Spy cared more about everyone on the team than he like to pretend but he hadn’t expected it to be this much. Given that, he couldn’t in good conscious follow his initial instinct to lie and say he was fine. After all, even he had to admit that cutting off one’s own hand with a saw blade wasn’t something someone who was truly fine would do. So instead he shrugged, letting himself sag against the headboard. “Could use some water and painkillers, preferably strong ones.”
Spy didn’t seemed satisfied, hanging around for a beat or two longer before turning to go over to the other side of the room. What he did over there, Engie couldn’t see and didn’t care enough to figure out. But he returned a short time later it was with a glass of water and a mysterious pill.
Instinctively, Engie reached for it first with his right hand before remembering it was no longer there. Instead, he took first the pill, not caring what it was, dry swallowing it before taking the water. After chugging the whole glass, he maybe even felt a little better. “More?” he asked as he handed the now empty glass back.
Spy sighed as he accepted it and left. This time when he returned it was with a whole pitcher of water which he left on the bedside table as he handed the refilled glass back to Engie.
“Thanks.”
“We’re not done talking about how bad an idea cutting your own hand off is.”
“I know. Later though?”
“Yes, fine, later. It’s probably about time to change the bandages anyway.”
“Thanks for that too… you know, helping out and stuff, ‘preciate it.” Even if getting caught at this was not ideal, it was still better than going through Respawn and thus having to restart – or possibly dying if someone had turned it back off. And having someone to help with the bandages and whatnot was a bigger boon than he ever would’ve hoped for.
“Don’t mention it. And I mean that literally, don’t tell anyone about this.” Ah, good ol’ Spy, continuing to not want anyone to know how much he cared. Well Engie now knew for sure and he was going to treasure that knowledge.
“You got it. This whole thing will be our little secret.” No one else needed to know about it until he had the hand properly attached. That way no one else would have cause for any real concern and would perhaps even assume he’d lost the hand in an accident.
The whumpee didn't even bother to struggle as they were roughly lifted onto the cold metal table. They didn't struggle when leather straps, cracked and stiff with age yet still sturdy and strong, were fastened across their body.
They merely whimpered softly through the permanent muzzle on their face, letting a couple tears slip out the corners of their eyes.
They could recognize all the scientists by their footsteps at this point. So they shivered as they heard the whumper's slow, heavy footfalls.
The whumper was by far the cruelest of all the scientists, and they never failed to hold back on the whumpee.
Soon enough, an all too familiar sound of throat clearing had the whumpee drawing their gaze to the frowning face above them.
"Subject IM-002, I'm very disappointed in you," they said, pushing up their gleaming glasses. "You know that you broke the rules and that you have to be punish, right?"
The whumper waited long enough for the whumpee to whimper softly and nod. "Good. Just remember, we do this for your own good." They nodded to one of the other scientists, one the whumpee couldn't see.
Even though the whumpee knew what to expect by now, they still screamed and writhed as the sledgehammer fell over and over against their legs, until they were utterly pulverized.
None of the scientists bothered to say anything more to the whumpee or turn the shining white lights off as they filed out of the room.
The whumpee lay panting on the table, hot fiery pain racing through every part of them. They knew the scientists wouldn't care about the lasting damage.
After all, the whumpee would be completely healed in the morning, with only the memory of the pain to keep them obedient.
Artagan didn’t want to be here. He stood, and watched as the hulking figure of a disguised Oni snapped Jester’s tail, bone crunching as she screamed into her gag. He stood and watched because there was nothing else he could do.
He wasn’t truly there. He could be there. But not really.
He could do something. He was a powerful being. But not really.
She called him a god. And surely gods could step in and save their followers, right?
No. Not really.
He could hear Jester crying out for him, even though her mouth was clenched shut in pain. He could always hear her when she called him. It had happened as soon as she had cast her first divine spell, much to his surprise.
He’d had warlocks before. Never a cleric. He had thought once that it would be annoying, to be prayed to, but it never was. No matter when she called, he was excited to follow and see what she was up to. Jester was just so bright and chaotic and perfect for him.
Was that why this hurt so much?
The snapping of bone echoed through the chamber, immediately followed by another muffled scream. More of her tail.
Her scream was met by another, from beyond the walls of the cell, where her friends were held. They screamed for her because no one wants to see Jester hurt. No one wants to hear her cry.
Artagan desperately wished that the anger would return. That burning fiery rage that he had felt when she had first called to him. When he had thought that perhaps there was something he could do. That rage had fueled him as he tried to sort through his powers and abilities, certain that if he found the right path, the right tool, he could appear by her side and free her.
But it was gone now, replaced by bone aching exhaustion. There was only so much of this he could listen to. Only so much despair and disappointment he could take.
He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to watch this.
But he couldn’t leave her. Not when she was calling desperately to him, wanting his help. Wanting to be saved.
He could leave. But not really.
