#hound roleplays

[ask-hound]

Hound released a sigh of relief as they left the rook’s main room and the noise finally dropped to a manageable level. Saint had responded favorably to the idea of finding somewhere quiet to stay for a while, and he walked behind Hound (in their blind spot, which they weren’t the biggest fan of, but it couldn’t be helped) as they ducked into a seemingly unused storage room at the other end of the hall.

Taking a seat on a large crate covered by a moth-eaten tarp, Hound hazarded a glance at the odd bracelet their equally quiet companion was fiddling with. They realized with no small amount of curiosity that it wasn’t just an ordinary wire, like they had previously thought, but rather a wickedly sharp garrote.

“that’s an… interesting fashion choice,” Hound noted, trying to force their voice into sounding more casual than it usually did.

@project-saint-707 here it is :P

[ask-hound]

*hooded figure approaches and forces a chloroform soaked rag over Hound’s face. He finds himself in an abandoned warehouse, tied to a chair and bleeding from a somehow reopened scar*

Do you know why you’re here? You do know drugs are illegal right? Or at least the ones you were injecting with someone else. We have eyes everywhere. Do you have anything to say to defend yourself?

*the hooded stranger grabs a knife and traces it against Hound’s scars*

Hound… well. Hound is out of it.

They blink sluggishly, trying to get the world to stop spinning for long enough that they can figure out where they are. It’s dark, dark and cold, especially so considering that Hound’s been stripped down to their undershirt and cargo pants by the disguised figure holding a knife to the track marks marring the inside of their arm.

They think they hear about half of what the person said, something about drugs being illegal and eyes everywhere and having to defend themself. It feels like every thought is moving through molasses, making it nearly impossible for Hound to string together what their captor is trying to tell them.

“Who… ‘re you?” they slur, eyelids heavy; the only thing keeping them from passing out is the adrenaline beginning to flood their veins as the gravity of the situation slowly sets in. Hound’s head drops toward their chest, too exhausted and dazed to keep staring straight at the figure. Their captor, seemingly annoyed, grabs them by the chin and wrenches their head up so Hound will look them in the face, despite their unfocused gaze and tenuous hold on awareness.

[ask-hound]

-> @bell-askblog🔔

Nice to see you on here, Hound. Figured I'd say hi.

Sorry for disappearing. How's the safehouse doing? The people in it?

That's all I had to ask. Have a great day, my friend. For your safety, не доверяй ему.

hello, @bell-askblog. it is certainly… going. not much has changed.

mason still dislikes me; i think woods would like it if he distrusted me less, because he sent mason to ask me for my fast food order the other day, but i answered wrong. i asked him to pick for me and he requested i make my own choice, for reasons unknown to me. the orders he gives are always uncomfortably open-ended, but park said he is, quote, “just like that” and advised me to obey him to the best of my abilities.

(i still don’t get it. i don’t want mason and woods to like me, but i don’t know how to do the things i need to in order to get on their good sides. ugh.)

[ask-hound]

it’s been a while; i should get back into the game.

[ask-hound]

So…you’re uh. Hound right?

I don’t believe we’ve met.

can’t say i’ve ever interacted with you. you’re the guy who’s tailing hudson nowadays, right? what’s he like? as far as i can remember, i only met him once or twice while i was still with the cia. i don’t think i ever saw him display an emotion besides vague disappointment.

[ask-hound]

...so hound right? tell me, did you always have that name or did it just stick to you? cause let me tell you right now mate, your history is like digging up graves in search of a fucking zombie. nothing but rumors,

so throw me a bone will ya? if you do, I might be partial to giving you a favour.

it’s just… my name, i suppose. i have a history of memory issues (which you probably know if you have been “digging” in my files like you claim you have), so my handlers have to, well, remind me of things from time to time, and “hound” always sounds… right, i suppose.

i’d say that probably means it’s my real name, but it’s not like i have any other name that could be. not sure how helpful this will be for you.

[ask-hound]

hound.

keep questioning everything, no matter what you do. if nothing else, that might save you.

listen to woods. and some words of advice; humans do not need a handler. adler is using you. controlling you.

I'll work something out to help you get off of those pills. consciously or not. don't tell them shit.

stay safe, ♜.

i am not sure i will be in a position to maintain this correspondence much longer.

i obeyed your previous commands to obtain real migraine medicine from a pharmacy; woods seemed… more than eager to, quote, “get me some fresh air for once,” especially when i requested that adler not be informed (he was, apparently, happy to see me making my own choices for once).

adler knew anyways. i don’t know how, but he found out, and he yelled at me, and he said he didn’t know where i was getting these ideas from, which either means he suspects my training is slipping (which would be catastrophic on its own) or he suspects i’m in contact with… someone like you, i suppose.

either way, i don’t know if i can risk it. you sound so sure with your grand statements about how i need to keep questioning and how i don’t need a handler and how adler is controlling me, and i am sure that makes sense to you, but i don’t understand. i don’t know what i’m supposed to do or how i’m supposed to do it if nobody will just tell me. i don’t know what you want from me. i don’t know why you expect me to be able to do it. if humans don’t need handlers, like you say, then the conclusion you should be drawing isn’t that i don’t need orders, it’s that i was never really a fucking person in the first place.

(i’m sorry. i don’t want to be cruel to you, really.

but i’m scared.

scared dogs bite the hands that feed them, sometimes. even i know that.)

[ask-hound]

you shouldn't take those pills, hound.

they're not for migraines.

you should get some real ones at the pharmacy. maybe with bell or woods. not adler. don't trust him. stay safe.

regards, ♜.

…okay.

i very much doubt this is something adler would allow me to do, but woods has stated repeatedly that adler is “not our superior, no matter what he thinks” and also that he “doesn’t need to know every fuckin’ thing you do.” so perhaps he will be perceptive. bell has also told me that i should spend less time with adler, and i do not understand why (is he not their handler as well?), but maybe they will be willing if woods is not.

this weekend, maybe, i’ll ask if one of them can take me to the pharmacy. i’m not sure if i will be able to get out of taking the pills, though; adler and park are both… insistent that i never skip a dose, and i’m sure they won’t be happy if i try to go against them on that.

(god, i’m going to be in so much trouble. for all of this. for talking to you and for keeping it a secret and for doing what you tell me. i just hope i can keep this up long enough to get some answers.

that’s strange, too. i don’t think i’ve ever wanted answers before. mostly because, before now, i don’t think i had any questions.

i don’t understand what’s happening to me. i’m worried i may be malfunctioning.)