Hiii, could I interest you in an idea circling around in my head, basically villain is abandoned by their team and captured by the heroes, villains power is very rare or useful so the heroes take villain and use them either as a sort of living weapon or pet for the team. Does villains team try and rescue them or do they leave them, if they do rescue them what’s the state of villain, does someone on the hero team see what’s happening to villain and help them or does no one care for villains safety and well being? There’s a lot I’ve been thinking of with this and if this sounds interesting I would love to see your take on it, if this isn’t your cup of tea I understand!
Have a great day or night!
Mmmmm consider me interested! My take is that you should write this and I should read this! But…I’ll, uh, volunteer my thoughts though since this yummy morsel is already here.
CW for non-graphic blood, cutting, muzzles, shock collar, dehumanization
If you wanted it even whumpier, you could have Villain’s power be activated by pain, or even blood? Or stress and fear? Some examples:
Villain can generate shields under duress. They need to actually feel like they’re gonna die to use it, so the heroes push them to the very front line of combat.
Villain is some kind of warlock that gains power from a demon or something, so the heroes are cutting Villain mid-battle. More blood = more power.
Oooh or the reverse, where pain keeps Villain from using their power except for the heroes’ gain. Like a telepath that has a microchip pain inducer (sorry I cannot think of the name of the thing) so Villain won’t read heroes’ minds but it can be deactivated once they need Villain. This is horribly unethical btw if they actually have an ability neutralizer.
A shock collar works too, especially for the pet angle. Ooooh and depending on what Villain’s ability is, a muzzle. Like if they have voice or mouth-centered powers, and Villain has to wear a muzzle pretty much 24/7 around the heroes except for the 30 minutes a week they get to fight and and
Heroes are laughing and eating snacks in the conference room and Villain has to just sit on the floor in the corner with their collar and muzzle on and they’re hungry and the muzzle is chafing and then they hear the heroes laughing at them.
Also the heroes releasing any muzzle/restraints and shoving Villain out towards the fight: “Fight, dog!” You can either have a defiant whumpee that gets shocked until obedient or just this shaking form that looks like they want to be as far away as possible.
Ahhh sorry it’s long and all over the place but you got me thinking a lot too lol
Okay I’m a fan of both Villain’s friends and a hero are not okay with this.
I imagine it like the villain squad is trying desperately to get their teammate back and can’t succeed against the heroes. Double angst points because Villain is forced to use their power against their own friends.
And one of the heroes finds Villain afterwards sobbing and struggling to breathe with the muzzle on, and they realize how wrong they’ve been—like maybe it was a joke at first but now it’s too real and there’s a person they’ve been abusing and they have to help.
Cue Hero taking off Villain’s muzzles/restraints/collar, holding them while they cry and reassuring them that they’ll help. Or just letting them free right there, if they can.
Yeah that was like 3 cups of my tea, thank you! I still think you should write it, but if there was a part from this you want me to write, you can always ask :)
I don't see a lot of muzzled whumpee, but I might be looking in the wrong place, but indulge me with this
Muzzle whumpee is so yummy to my brain
if its put on tight enough not only does it hurt, leave bruising, chaffing, or rub burns if the whumper moves it fast and aggressivly for a short amount of time itll leave burns, and can keep your whumpee from yapping.
and if you feel cruel enough, hang them from the back or front of the muzzle, hook something to the back and have them hang from it, barely able to touch the ground, from the front would be worse, the throat arched, stretched as far as it can go without doing horrific damage, just enough to hurt for a while. and the after effects, sore neck, bruises, stiff neck/shoulders, indents on the skin, etc.
Whumpee earning themselves a gag/muzzle after bitting whumper when they traced a thumb over a broken lip. Even better if whumper needs someone else to hold whumpee's head in place while they do it, telling them with a hit of annoyance that they should've seen it coming.
oh i LOVE the framing of this as ‘earning’ a gag or muzzle. they bite whumper’s thumb for touching them like that, and they have to be taught their place. they should have known it but if they can’t remember, they’ll be forced to learn.
and if whumper has any other plans for their mouth, well, there are solutions for that too.
Not the piercing I wanted but I did my research. I read that tongue piercings can trigger severe depressive episodes due to isolation as a result of restricted communication and I scoffed.
Id been depressed for almost a decade at this point so the idea of having a legit excuse to not have to tall to people was a dream.
By day 3 I was in tears. (I don’t cry easy)
I broke at day 5
I had to have someone come with me to a decent piercing studio to get it taken out as I physically couldn’t explain the situation myself
I dismissed the notion because I didn’t realise the psychological difference between choosing not to speak and being physically unable to speak
I learnt very fast
Although it was of course not the intention, I was muzzled for days
You don’t need a big leather mask to muzzle your Whumpee, a tongue piercing will silence them just fine and you still get to see their pretty face 🥰
warnings⚠️: this plate of whump contains the following- dehumanization, shock collars, muzzles, conditioning, threatening to be put down, living weapon whump, and pet whump. Villain whumpee, hero whumper, handler whumper.
"I'm not an animal. no. I'm not a lapdog" is the repeated words kept in Villain's skull as he sulks kneeling in his corner of the 'room' provided to him by handler.
By whom he is very appreciative of, sure the room was just a closed off area in the basement. the cold, thick stench of mold and what is hopefully just a rat carcass rotting somewhere. But it was better than being tied out to the post in the training area.
The room was empty of all but a decently large dog sized bed- it was a straw woven basket with a thin foam material in it. in the front corner was a food and water bowl, beside it was a small bin of different squeaky toys those of which Villain told himself to never even touch.
It was humiliating enough as it is but he was better now. better than he was before. not perfect or anywhere near as good as hero wants him to be. but better.
villain dwelled on the thought of being perfect letting his mind hover in his head without existing before it was suddenly torn back into hypervigilance at the sound of the door.
Handler walked in with hero following after. neither ever looked at villain as anything close to human or even competent. Villain straitened his posture and kept his gaze down.
Handler made a click sound which through training villain knew meant 'stand' to which villain stood his knees ached and legs felt numb from the hours spent on them but he refused to dare try ease his muscles.
Hero gave a half nod half head tilt that meant they was pleased enough with his response.
Handler then gave a sharp loud whistle then followed by a longer lower whistle. a sharp loud whistle meant 'return to me' and a long low whistle that meant 'circle/asses situation' to which mindlessly Villain obeyed taking measured steps towards Handler and hero before stopping two feet away and circling like a predator.
Hero watched his every step as though he was measuring the exact inches away from each step. after about 10 minutes of different sound and word commands Villain was told to kneel.
Villain obeyed but he knew he was still in trouble for earlier that morning when handler was showing hero a knew command he taught villain which was a new attack that villain wasn't too good at, he had refused to obey. earning dog house once again as well as a fine beating.
which is why a pitiful whine escaped him when he saw hero pull out a muzzle and lead from his 'empty space power holder' and handed it to Handler. Handler took the muzzle up to Villains face who was now trying not to start hyperventilating.
The muzzle was always too tight, left his skin red and raw burning but they tried to hide their quickening breath which they can't keep up with.
Handler fixed the straps and clips before fastening the straps tight enough to dig in flesh and keep Villain's mouth shut. What got villain to panic worst was when a thick ring of metal was close to being placed to his neck.
muffled words ran out his forcibly closed mouth. flinching back away from Handlers hands body tensed to tight for his trembling to be visible.
"put it on or your better off being put down." Heroes voice held such malice and power. Villain knew they weren't' bluffing but he tried. he tried to give a pleading look as his eyes welled up with tears and his body shook with his strangled sobs. Handler hooked their fingers on the straps of the muzzle dragging villain forwards before placing the metal collar on him.
"your so much better than before" the voice was sweat and reassuring but it did nothing to comfort villain's spiraling mind. Villain shook his head in response before glaring up at handler and hero before electricity racked through their bones. A muffled gut wrenching scream escaped him as he crumped lower to the floor heaving for air.
the world cut to black when the electricity didn't stop for minutes- felt like hours despite the known time.
Part 2 • index
---ᓚᘏᗢ--ᓚᘏᗢ--ᓚᘏᗢ--ᓚᘏᗢ--ᓚᘏᗢ--ᓚᘏᗢ--ᓚᘏᗢ--ᓚᘏᗢ--ᓚᘏᗢ---
finally got around to writing this. from this prompt, this prompt in question. first time writing AND posting whump so... yeh might be a tad chopy and confusing.
OH and when it mentions an 'empty space power holder' I'm trying to describe a power that i kinda just made on the spot where they can sorta collect excess energy from others or living things an uses said energy to transfer it into a multi purpose materializing fabric in the dimensions of reality. in other words they're a power magnet and can hold objects in a space of energy that spaces out an objects molecules to distribute the mass and physical form of said object- invisible and weightless- essentially just dematerializing objects while keeping all the necessary molecules intact simply separated. is this making sense to anyone??? this will have at least2-3 parts so stay tooned.
CW: dehumanization, drugging, manhandling, defiant whumpee, swearing, character feeling ill due to drugs.
Dorian knew what fate awaited her as the men dragged her down the dimly lit hallway. She could feel it from the fact that the still healing wounds on her back and arms burned at the thought. Still, she began to wonder again; How long was she even with that bastard? Even worse, How long would she be at the mercy of this woman?
Dorian’s thoughts were brought to a screeching halt as she was thrown down onto a plush carpet with a dulled thud. Hands were on her again before she could push herself onto her arms, pressing her down into the carpet of white fibers that reeked of bitter cigarette smoke, leaving her stifling a cough as the knot on the gag was loosened and the ends of the filthy cloth fell into the edges of her vision. Hands flipped Dorian onto her back and she couldn’t stop the high pitched yelp that left her as the duct tape was swiftly ripped off, leaving a harsh stinging pain in its wake. The employee grabbed her chin in a grip that threatened to bruise, thick fingers slipped past her teeth, fishing for the cloth in her mouth.
Against every fearful, human instinct she still held dear, Dorian bit down. While her canines found purchase on his knuckles, unfortunately she didn’t break skin. Though, she dimly recognized he was screaming.
Good.
She felt a smile etch its way across her face as the hand was swiftly yanked out from her hold, cloth in tow. The slap echoed through the room before Dorian felt the pain bloom in her cheek. Her head fell to the side and she gasped in the scent of the smoke filled carpet again. Her eyes stung with unwanted tears as she licked her teeth. A command reached her, harsh, insistent. Glancing up with a sidelong glare, Dorian’s eyes went wide as she recognized the muzzle held in the employee’s palm.
A hand grabbed her face again, Dorian squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath, pressing her lips taut. Past the pounding echoes of her rapid heartbeat the employee cursed, she bit her tongue to stop herself from throwing his vile words back at him. A hand clamped down tight over her nose, her hands jerked upwards, uselessly attempting to shove the man off. She held her breath even as her lungs burned and muscles twitched and spasmed uselessly. Her ears rang with effort as a headache threatened to crack her skull at the temples. She felt her hands beat against the body above her to no avail.
The weight above Dorian shifted, pressure lessening as the man’s grip loosened for a fraction of a second. Right before the sharp angle of a bent knee was rammed below her ribs. Dorian let out a gasping cough of pain that was stifled as she felt a solid bar press between her teeth. Opening her eyes again she thrashed as the man pushed the wire basket over her face, the straps were fastened and tightened, crushing her tangled hair beneath them.
Humiliation and anger rose in her gut as she was hoisted to her knees and forced to face an ornate wooden door. Delicately carved flora decorated the panels, the shapes swam in the blurred edges of her vision as she traced their swirling path.
How long has it been since she’s seen an actual flower? Dorian wondered dimly, letting her eyes drift to her blood that was soaking into the carpet beneath her. How long will it be until she sees one again?
The thought didn’t last. The door swung with an earsplitting creak of the hinges and the woman stepped through. She was shorter than Dorian expected, a round lady, her curves hugged by the strapless red dress that fell just above her knees. As Dorian tore her gaze away, ducking her head to not give the woman the satisfaction of seeing her clearly, she realized that this vile woman looked… almost… friendly?
“My goodness!” The woman remarked dreamily as the tapping of those damned kitten heels neared Dorian again, “You gentlemen did a splendid job.” Dorian felt the woman’s gaze rake over her and swallowed back the growl building in her chest as a shiver of disgust ran through her. Suddenly a hand was placed on the crown of her head, carding slim fingers through her hair, Dorian couldn’t help curling into herself at the touch, a sob escaping her as she waited for the gentle ministrations to turn harsh. Somehow, it never did, it just released her after a moment.
A hand cupped Dorian’s face, fingers brushing against the wire and metal of the muzzle as she gently tilted her face up to meet her gaze. Dorian snarled through the gag, swallowing back a cough at her overwhelmingly sweet perfume as she glared into the woman’s blue eyes that shone with adoration and…pity?
“Hello there, darling.” The woman cooed, soft and coy. Dorian cursed at her, the woman raised an eyebrow and blinked in surprise, so it was clearly somewhat legible despite the gag. “Oh my!” She laughed, pulling her fur coat higher over her freckled shoulders before raising her hand to Dorian’s brow. Dorian couldn’t help flinching away as an instinctive wave of fear set her nerves alight.
“Ah, now, there's no need for that.” the woman chided, leaning in and cupping Dorian’s canine ear with a small smile, “You’re safe with me, dear.” She whispered, low, saddened, but still so idiotically cheery, Dorian would have laughed if she could. Before she could entertain the idea, the woman tapped the nose of the muzzle with her index finger letting out yet another wistful giggle.
Nausea and humiliation rose in Dorian’s throat in tandem, her shoulders were released from their bruising grips as the woman swiftly grabbed Dorian from under her arms, hauling her to stand with gentle encouragement despite the muffled cries of protest that accompanied it.
Being steered towards the exit, Dorian felt her face grow warm and slick with unwanted tears. She couldn’t fight, not with the woman directly behind her, chest pressed to her back with one hand on her shoulder, the other resting just above her hip. The warmth the woman—who introduced herself as Ms. Stratfield—radiated was sickeningly comforting. Dorian caught herself leaning into it on more than one occasion, she hated herself for it. It was obviously a trap. Still, warmth was warmth, and she was oh so cold.
Soon they neared the exit sign, the red fluorescent glow flickering dully over them, as Ms. Stratfield stopped and turned to the employees, questioning why they were being followed. As one man explained that it was protocol for such purchases, Dorian felt disgust making a home beneath her skin again, but she simply ducked her head. She was only a hand-me-down, being seen as an object was exhaustedly aggravating.
Dorian heard Ms. Stratfield argue something about her privacy, worry-tinged frustration laced beneath her sweetened tone. Swiftly, the pressure of the stern gazes on Dorian’s back lessened as footsteps receded, she shivered as the exit door was pushed open with a metallic whine before the frigid night air embraced her.
Wind lazily whipped at Dorian's face, carrying the scent of old petrol and weathered asphalt as the woman steered her through the darkened expanse outside of the multi-storey car park. Breathing in the crisp air through the wire of the muzzle, Dorian savored the differences it carried from the stench of the abandoned building she had been held in. With a hollow feeling Dorian realized she didn't truly remember the last time she’d been outside.
Looking up to find only a vast fog where stars should be, Dorian shivered suddenly, bones shaking as bitter cold nipped at exposed skin. There was a shift and Ms. Stratfield gave an unintelligible murmur before a soft coat was draped over Dorian’s shoulders. “There we go,” Ms. Stratfield hushed, fastening the top button of the fur coat with deft fingers, “that’s better, hm?”
Relaxing her shoulders, Dorian savored the newfound warmth seeping into her skin. So, she nodded, a slight duck of the head and a muffled hum. An acknowledgement that her captor’s coat was at least better than nothing. Dorian closed her eyes briefly, almost letting herself lean into Ms. Stratfield’s touch once more before a light chuckle startled her awake. The fingers on her hip found their way to grasp her cuffed hand, the soft touch sending a chill down Dorian’s spine. “Let’s get to the car, dearest.” She offered. Dorian had no choice but to follow.
Dorian stared at the flannel blanket draped across the backseat of the car, she let her tail swish against the soft material, disbelief and gratefulness battling within her as Ms. Stratfield buckled the seatbelt over her lap. After a moment she stood swiftly, her gaze settling on the muzzle after a moment.
“You’re safe, dear,” Ms. Stratfield hushed, reaching her hand forward, Dorian swiftly leaned away before hesitantly straightening, “so there’s no need to make a racket.” she warned, as careful fingers undid the straps and pulled the gag from Dorian’s mouth. Gasping a fresh breath of air, Dorian stifled a coughing fit that lasted several seconds before she could speak.
“Let me go home.” Dorian rasped, trying to keep her voice steady and demanding.
“I’ll get you home, dear.” She smiled, sending a wave of warm relief rippling through Dorian that brought fresh tears to her eyes.
“Uncuff me,” Dorian started, struggling with her cuffed hands, “just, please get these off me.” she begged, choking back a sob.
“I’m sorry, I can’t take them off for good.” Ms. Stratfield hushed, placing a gentle hand on Dorian’s wrist, Dorian felt her skin writhe as doubt crept in again.
“I’m not going to run,” Dorian argued, feeling herself grow disoriented as Ms. Stratfield nodded in agreement, “So, just fucking uncuff me.” The air stood still for a moment as Dorian heard Ms. Stratfield sigh.
“It’s for your own safety.” she explained, her patience clearly thinning.
“How?” Dorian demanded, voice low. Ms. Stratfield gave no answer and anger boiled up from Dorian’s stomach. “How? How is it for my safety?”
“I know what I’m doing, my darling-” Ms. Stratfield started as Dorian clenched her jaw at the pet-name.
“Don’t fucking call me that!” Dorian yelled, “you kidnapped me you sick bitch, you don’t get to call me that!” she yelled before nearly doubling over with coughing as pain shot up her throat.
“Trust me.” Ms. Stratfield demanded, something like pleading creeping in at the edge of her voice
“No.” Dorian rasped, the woman simply sighed through clenched teeth before she reached down and held up a pair of leather cuffs attached by a longer chain.
“I’m going to help you. Just let me.” she hissed before taking a deep breath “I can’t take them off now. But these are looser, more comfortable.” The chain rattled as she shook the handcuffs to punctuate the idea, “I’ve done this before, so listen to me; This is for your own safety.” Ms. Stratfield explained with a knowing glance towards the parking lot behind her.
Dorian stared at the metal of the chain as it glistened in the dim light, something akin to relief flooding her again as she realized; It’s pretend, an act to get out.
After a moment, Dorian hummed and nodded in a hesitant assent. It was probably best to keep up appearances, who knows what some sick buyer would do if they found out this woman was helping her. So, Dorian held her wrists out and willingly let the woman uncuff her then slip the new chains on.
“I swear, if you try anything.” Dorian hissed, letting her weak threat hang in the air, satin lining pressing against her bruised skin as Ms. Stratfield tightened them.
“I won’t,” She smiled, cold blue eyes shining in the dim light as she locked the cuffs and placed the key in her coat pocket, her grin only deepening the crow’s feet rooted at the corners of her eyes as she stood. Obviously noticing the hesitation that Dorian felt through her entire aching body, Ms. Stratfield walked back to the boot of the car, leaving Dorian to stare out into the vast expanse of the car lot before shifting against her new, thankfully looser, bindings. She uselessly licked her lips before flinching as the boot of the car opened with a creak. Dorian turned her head toward the noise, straining her neck only to see a solid wall behind her.
There was a crack of plastic, movement and a muffled cough, before the clicking footsteps neared her again. Ms. Stratfield stood in front of her again, an opened water bottle clasped in her hand, which she swiftly handed to Dorian with a request to drink. Dorian took it, holding the lukewarm water in her palm, the chains rattling with the movement sending a chill up her spine. Dorian smiled, reminding herself that it was just a disguise. Dorian lifted the water to her cracked lips and chugged half of it with trembling hands, far too fast apparently, as it left her coughing and choking.
“Thank you,” she sputtered, feeling tears on her cheeks as the woman helped her pull the bottle back from her lips, “thank you so much.”
“Of course,” She smiled, placing a gentle hand on Dorian’s back, “Drink the rest.” Dorian nodded with a wavering grin, feeling her tail give a hesitant wag as the woman rubbed small, gentle circles between her shoulder blades before she shut the car door, climbing in the driver's seat not long after.
Dorian stumbled through her tears to remember her address for a moment, sniffling as Ms. Stratfield nodded before typing an address into the SatNav. Wiping her tears, Dorian took a breath as the woman pulled out into the street, she let herself relax into the cool leather of the car seat beneath her, glancing out the tinted window watching the world scroll on as she melted into the rumbling purr of the car beneath her. Dorian felt a small smile creep across her face as the slow melodies of classical music filled the car.
She was finally going home.
Dorian allowed herself to rest in that fact, halfheartedly trying to respond to Ms. Stratfield’s attempt at conversation despite the buzzing of exhaustion beneath her skin. Sudden dizziness rolled through her in waves as she forced herself to sit upright, and breathe deeply in hope of fighting the sudden faint feeling in her head.
“Excuse me, Miss,” she sputtered after a moment, “can you pull over, I don’t-” Dorian forcing a deep breath, her heart catching on her ribs, “I don’t feel well.” Ms. Stratfield’s eyes flitted to her in the rearview mirror.
“Drink some water dear, It’ll pass in a bit.” She smiled. Dorian shuddered as she looked back towards the front of the car, “you want to get home soon, don’t you?” She asked.
Dorian nodded and nursed the rest of the water deliberately trying to soothe the sudden dryness in her mouth. Resting her cheek on the soft faux fur of the coat she watched the haze of the lights outside the tinted window. That probably wasn’t legal, but the rich break so many laws anyway Dorian didn’t particularly give it much thought.
Gradually, the world drifted away, dulled panic growing in Dorian’s chest as it did so. She didn’t remember why she felt like this. What did Ms. Stratfield do to her? Dorian heard herself ask, a laugh and a comment to relax was the only response. So, Dorian allowed herself to rest back into the seat vaguely wondering why it felt like she was thinking through cement. Dorian didn’t like cement much, it meant construction. Construction sites were deafening with their jackhammers and bulldozers and cranes, lights and the blaring tones of reversing trucks.
After thinking for an exhaustingly long moment Dorian could recall the last time she passed one, when she was going to Ayla’s house after school. Ayla’s house was only three blocks away from her apartment, Dorian remembered with a grin. Oh, she couldn’t wait to be home, she felt an exhausted giddiness at the notion of it.
Home, her heart sang in her chest, she was going home.
Words floated above her, light and jovial, definitely not her mum’s voice, or her aunt’s. Oh, Ms. Stratfield was talking to her again. The faint tones of disjointed words flowing into Dorian’s ears caused her to stir and writhe against the seatbelt that forced her back against the burning cold leather. She was being held down. Why was she being held down? She’d behaved, hadn’t she? Why was she so tired? Why wasn’t she home yet?
Dorian’s skull seemed to press in at the temples, the faux fur of the coat weighing down on her shoulders threatened to drag her into the seat. Shit, Dorian thought past the sudden bout of nausea, oh shit not now, this can’t happen now. Dorian focused, her eyes locking onto a white circular disk that rolled weakly between the grooves of the car mat.
The cap of a pill bottle, Dorian realized with a tilt of her head. She focused what little energy she had left on watching the cap roll with each turn of the car. Between silently scolding herself to not pass out, Dorian found herself thinking how strangely nice it was that Ms. Stratfield kept medication in her car. What was it for?
The headache worsened with a vengeance as black spots danced at the edge of her vision. Do not pass out, Dorian willed herself. You absolutely cannot pass out, not in a strangers car. You can’t pass out.
“Don’t.” Dorian hissed under her breath, feeling tears sting at the corner of her eyes. “Don’t, Don’t, Don’t.” she pleaded to nothing and no one, her begging falling into sobbing as the world grew staticy around the edge of her vision.
Dorian was hushed again, her weak sobbing quieted with soft words as the car stopped. The car door swung open and Ms. Stratfield leaned over her, unbuckling the seatbelt and catching Dorian when she threw herself forward.
Gingerly, Ms. Stratfield slid an arm under Dorian’s knees, her other arm resting on her lower back. Dorian bit back a yelp as the woman drew her close and lifted up in a bridal carry before immediately sputtering a cough at the overwhelming floral scent from Ms. Stratfield’s perfume.
Ms. Stratfield turned, shutting the car door, humming softly and began to walk up the driveway. Lifting her eyes up from her lap Dorian felt her breath catch as she found herself staring at the picturesque cottage in front of her, dread filling her stomach.
“Welcome home, my darling.” The woman laughed, sending a fresh wave of nausea up through Dorian’s aching body. Fear dug a pit in her stomach as she took in the unfamiliar sight of the perfectly painted white picket fence.
The inside of Whumper’s home became illuminated through the shaky spotlight of an industrial flashlight. Caretaker inched through the doorway, light in one hand and walkie-talkie in the other.
To say their surroundings were an absolute wreck was an understatement. It looked like a wild animal had rampaged through the place, leaving behind fractured pieces of furniture, bashed-in doors, and half-torn wallpaper.
Caretaker’s heart sunk at the sight. They frantically searched around with straining widened eyes. Whumpee had to be here somewhere, and hopefully Whumper was nowhere to be seen just as the rumors entailed. Their boots cracked the shards of a chair leg open. Maybe the medical equipment in their pack won’t be enough. Lulling the light over the living room, they only discovered the innards of an old couch, and remains of a CRT.
They continued their search, finding torn shreds of cereal boxes littering the kitchen tile. The ornate panels of the mansion had been defiled, alongside the stairs, the expensive dark wood revealing vibrant color underneath the layers of varnish. Potted plants turned over on their side vomited piles of dirt.
Caretaker analyzed the dining room’s walls as soon as they caught sight of bullet shaped divots patterned in a sporadic arrangement.
Broken room after broken room, Caretaker was left no choice but to swallow their fear, the last place they could search being what ever lied down in the darkness through the open basement door. With the door left barely on its hinges, the dark abyss inside was interrupted by the dimmest light known to man, the dull lumens engulfing the bottom of the stairs. Caretaker gulped.
Their knees hobbled downstairs. The old steps shuddered and creaked at Caretaker’s weight. They jumped before they even made it to the end, a hand instinctively clutching to their collarbone. Some large shape traipsed through the darkness. Unable to understand the depth of its shadowed form, Caretaker’s gaze still sensed it to be all too close.
“Whumpee?”
They quickly fixated the flashlight’s direction onto the movement. In the corner of the damp stone space Caretaker failed to recognize what they were looking at, noting only that some form of monstrous once humanoid creature limped over to some form of “nest”.
It slumped down onto the cold hard floor. Stanced up, their arched back tried to hide a few glimpses of Whumpee behind them. Yellow eyes glared up at Caretaker, a jurassic growl rumbling out of the creature’s pulsating throat.
Caretaker found themselves subconsciously stepping backwards, the pieces of the Whumper’s gnarled appearance falling into place.
Their coat torn to accommodate for a larger size. Their winter hat still fastened tightly to their face, complimented by a muzzle forced on and over it. Some sort of sharp tail trailed behind them, curling around their darkened legs, their new markings allowing their limbs to easily camouflage underneath the lightless guise of the basement.
The changed Whumper let out a half-snarl half-growl, somewhat raising to their feet.
Caretaker pleaded, backing upstairs, “Whum-Whumper?! I’m not here to hurt you-”
Their shaky hold on the flashlight illuminated fresh spots of blood on the concrete flooring. They tried to sneak their sight onto Whumpee, their limp form snuggled in a tattered padding of blankets and towels. Whumper forced their focus to snap back onto them, when they slinked across the space, reaching the stairs faster than leaping would’ve landed them.
Caretaker broke into a sprint. They shouted hysterically into their walkie-talkie, losing the flashlight as heavy weight pounced onto their back, pressing them into the living room’s hardwood.
Tech garbled voices vied to get a response from Caretaker. Their panic only agitated Whumper. A strange noise now so loud that it vibrated all throughout Caretaker’s pinned body overtook them. Large claws scraped the floorboards besides their head.
Trying to twist around, Caretaker let out a pained gasp. Applying more weight, Whumper’s guttural sound increased, reverberating throughout the vacant mansion. Caretaker could hear some sort of instrument clicking from inside Whumper’s chest.
The creature crushed the rescuer as they located the walkie-talkie through the team’s panicked questions. Without hesitation Whumper caught the device within their claws, the rubber cord snapping loudly as they flicked it away from Caretaker.
Silence.
“Please.” Caretaker mouthed, seeing only Whumper’s hands, the skin blackened, joints enlarged, and what looked like the remnants of oven mitts pierced through by their clawed fingers.
A faint cough sounded from the basement. Whumper perked up, the slit-pupils of their eyes enlarging. They snuck off of Caretaker, turning around and keeping themselves low to the ground. Caretaker scooted their stomach against the floor. They hissed an adrenaline fueled gasp as they managed to scamper a few feet away.
Now only Whumper’s tail loomed over them, the sharp point as distracted as Whumper’s gaze.
Blood trickled out from the warm inside of Whumper’s winter trenchcoat, blotting below them. The creature let out an labored huff.
It forgot Caretaker, staggering for a moment as it started towards the source of the couch, one animalistic back leg curling up, hovering before receding back to the ground. Another pathetic cough, and Whumper released some sort of exhausted whine, forcing themselves to abandon the first floor.
Only the stair steps made another sound, the large creature testing their patience.
Caretaker steadied to a stand. They watched Whumper from the comfort of the doorway. The monster curled over the scrawny form of Whumpee, burying them, and Whumpee didn’t understand at all.
Their limbs twitched, when one of Whumper’s hands flattened to their forehead. It was sickly hot. Whumper was going to do everything in their power though to protect Whumpee, to protect their friend. No one will ever hurt them again.
Exhausted, the creature glared upstairs. Caretaker nodded, backing off from the old steps, searching the destroyed mansion for answers while breaking into a contemplative pace.
They encircled through the uncluttered path paved throughout the living room. Giving one last glance at the pieces of their walk-talkie, they wondered if the team showing up would do more harm than good. Whumper’s animalistic behaviour was all that Caretaker could base their next move off of.
Caretaker halted, feeling something bounce away from their shoe. They bent down to witness the little piece of a metal, bullet casings.
Next, they discovered the kitchen was cleaned out completely. No cans aside from the punctured shells decorating the counter, no boxes of mix except for few powdered grains, no sugar or flour, not even a scrap of bone. Caretaker plucked a woven basket up off the floor, a grand bite fraying the wooden materials, the jagged edges mimicking the sharp teeth that chomped through it.
Caretaker rummaged through the pockets of their cargo pants, fumbling out a protein-based granola bar. Before venturing back into the basement, they crouched over it, pressing the plastic packaging to the core of their abdomen, doing their best to soften the crinkling. Once open, they peeled the wrapper back and snuck to the middle of the stairs.
At the first wooden creak, Whumper enlivened, that guttural growl starting again.
“Hey now… It’s okay. It’s okay.” Caretaker extended out the snack. “I’m not going to hurt you. Are you- Are you hungry?”
There was a curious croon from Whumper as the inhuman sound fizzled out. Their head titled to the side, as if they were attempting to comprehend the words leaving Caretaker’s mouth. Caretaker agreed to the body language, nodding frantically out of habit, they waved the granola bar before them.
“Hungry?” Caretaker slowly dropped to the bottom of the stairs. They continued, “It’s okay. Here… You can have it.”
When Whumper refused to budge, Caretaker took it as an opportunity to sneak closer. Holding the treat, they started to shiver. The monster’s eyes were now glued to the bar.
Pondering aloud, Caretaker asked meekly, afraid to make too loud of noise, “How long has this muzzle been on? You must’ve been already so hungry before this, huh?”
Whumper lowered their head, submitting, their tail fixating itself between their legs. Caretaker maneuvered the snack between the gaps in the muzzle. They expected Whumper to snatch it up immediately, but instead the creature made anxious small bites. Low rumbling of a desperate stomach made its entrance. Caretaker tried to imagine what kind of person could reduce the powerful Whumper to… this?
They soothed, “Go on. You can have it.”
Craning their neck, Caretaker achieved a better view of Whumpee. Their face blanched by fever, they pressed stuffy snores through their nose and rested almost comfortably within Whumper’s haphazard nest. They seemed untouched, at least as of recent. No open wounds, no multicolored bruises. Instead sweat drenched the underside of their oversized clothes. A defined collarbone answered any idea Caretaker had on Whumpee’s health.
“Are you hurt?” Caretaker returned their attention to Whumper. The creature seemed indifferent now to whatever they had to say, their nervous demeanor still waiting for something.
They allowed Caretaker to investigate them. No idea what else to do, Caretaker cased their hands through Whumper’s coat, the monster flinching as they prodded soaked through bandages.
Caretaker sensed the size by following their textured surface up and down Whumper’s side. Sections had turned crusty and dried. Pulling out their hand, there was a light coating of red outlining the ridges of their fingerprints.
“You’re hurt bad.” Now they were just talking to pass the time. “I… I can’t just leave you here.”
CWs: living weapon whump, references to previous torture, muzzles, broken bones, gunshot wounds, amputation, broken bones, bleeding out, impalement, cosmic horror, broken bones, wing whump, blood and injury, mind control, ANDREAS
Last Stand Of The Heroes’ Union
Andreas and I walked down the street towards the Heroes’ Union. He’d cleaned himself up; shaved, put on his old military blazer, and was walking with all of his usual confidence, as if the last three months never happened. I, on the other hand, was barely keeping up, stumbling beside him as my body acted without my say-so and I did my best to stop it. My entire face felt like one big, swollen, throbbing sore. Every twitch of my jaw was agonising; bone grinding against the metal screws he drilled through my skin. Blood caked the inside of the mask, slipping between my lips until it was all I could taste. Tears streamed down my cheeks onto the muzzle; desperation, resignation, pain, and pure, unadulterated panic all warring together in my chest. I couldn’t have stopped crying if I wanted to. He’d given me a shot of adrenaline before we left, so there was absolutely no chance of passing out to end the torture, either.
Andreas had a .357 magnum revolver hidden in a shoulder holster underneath his blazer. It was just the cherry on top of this shit situation. One shot from that would be all it would take to kill any one of my friends if they were taken off guard. I had to stop him from getting to the Union somehow.
And yet, there was no way.
I had no control over my body. Even my powers, which had since returned, were useless without his input. There was no one around who would be able to help; the streets eerily empty thanks to the dark, overcast sky. I was helpless. All I could do was grunt and whimper as every step brought me more and more pain, dragging us ever-closer to the worst possible outcome.
The three clones were left back in Andreas’ hiding place, to await his triumphant return. He seemed to think that the two of us were all that was needed. I sorely hoped he was wrong. If a Union member could take me down, Andreas would be a sitting duck. I would gladly die if it meant he would lose, and the rest of the clones and heroes could be saved.
In what seemed like no time at all, we reached the Union, stepping up to the handprint scanner at the front door.
“Open it,” Andreas ordered.
I could do nothing but wince at the torture my arm went through as I removed my gauntlet and pressed my palm up to the scanner. It beeped, and turned green. This was it. One way or another, this was the end of everything.
Please, all of you. Survive.
—
Vivienne rocked back and forth on her feet, antsily checking her phone over and over. Jordyn hadn’t responded to the last three messages she sent after getting off work, and she was beginning to get worried. She, Maddie, and Brea were all milling in the Union conference room, waiting for Jordyn to arrive. She was already twenty minutes late. This wasn’t like her.
“I’m getting worried,” she admitted to the others. “She would’ve messaged if she knew she was gonna be late.”
“I’m sure it’s fine, Viv,” Brea said. “Jordyn can take care of herself. She probably just got too wrapped up in her workout and lost track of time.”
“I dunno,” Maddie replied. “This feels weird. I’m with Viv, we should go check on her at the gym.”
Brea shrugged. “Alrighty then. No harm in it.”
At that moment, the door slid open. The three of them turned to see who’d entered.
Jordyn. Eyes wide. Mouth and nose hidden behind a black mask. And standing behind her, mostly hidden by her dark armour…
Andreas de Vygon. Holding a large revolver. He lifted it, aiming directly at Vivienne.
The idea to teleport occurred to her. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quick enough to form into an actual thought.
Bang
—
Nonononono
I watched Andreas lift the revolver as if in slow motion. His finger squeezed the trigger, and the hammer flew forward, striking the firing pin. The bang echoed through the room, and Vivienne dropped. Madeline screamed, throwing her hands up. Brianna fell over. The chamber turned, smoke still spilling out of the barrel. Andreas squeezed the trigger again.
The bullet impacted the wall of ice that had formed, but it could go no further. Andreas fired again, and again, dragging us closer with every shot, but to no avail. Madeline had well and truly shut us out.
Vivienne. Was she alive? The way she just… dropped. It kept replaying in my mind, over and over. She could have lived. It was possible. I didn’t see exactly where the bullet hit. She could still be alive.
Please.
Andreas brought us to the ice wall. It was cloudy, but I could see through it. Maddie and Brea were kneeling next to Vivienne. Brea had her hands pressed against the right side of Vivienne’s chest. She was still moving, but barely. Blood seeped through her clothes and between Brianna’s fingers. She coughed, and more sprayed from between her lips. Her eyes stared up at the ceiling, unseeing. Her fingers scratched uselessly at the carpet. She was alive, but she was suffering. It was unlikely she’d survive long, even if she got help right away.
And it was all my fault.
Maddie noticed us. She got up, slamming her hands against the ice wall, staring daggers at Andreas.
Andreas didn’t reply, just backing up slightly and aiming his gun directly at her head. He pulled the hammer back with his thumb. “Melt the ice, Jordyn.”
NO.
My body moved to follow his command, putting my hand out and going through all the steps that would ordinarily raise the temperature. Maddie stared at me, eyes wide; a mixture of panic, betrayal and horror on her face. I hoped she knew I didn’t want this. I didn’t want her to hate me again.
Nothing happened. The temperature remained normal.
Andreas frowned. “I said, melt the ice. Use your fire powers.”
Again, my body tried to obey, and again nothing happened. It wasn’t a power thing; he’d tested my shadows before we left, and they followed his commands. This was… something else.
A woman appeared in my vision, hazy and transparent, like a mirage on a hot day. Immediately, I knew this was my companion from the cabin, revealing herself to me in full for the first time. And her face…
It was exactly like mine, only with burning, orange irises.
Oh. I understood now. It all made sense
The possession with Maddie. That dream I had while fighting the monster. These fire powers. They were all connected to her.
Rosalyn.
It was her I saw in that dream, right before my fire powers awakened. No, her fire powers. She gave them to me then. And wherever she was back then, I took her with me when I left. The powers were never mine; Rosalyn was just letting me use them, watching over my shoulder.
So here, right now, where her powers might be used to hurt her wife, she stood in front of me and shook her head. She refused.
Thank you.
She nodded, turning away from me and walking through the ice, settling down next to Vivienne and holding her hand.
Andreas growled. “Useless little runt!” He struck me right on the cheekbone with the butt of his gun. I screamed through my teeth as pure agony shot through my skull, sending me straight to the floor.
“Bastard!” Maddie yelled from inside the ice. “I’ll fucking kill you! Leave her alone!”
“Your disobedience won’t save them!” he said, ignoring her. “Regardless of if it’s now or once I’ve claimed the Godling’s power, they will still die. I’ll just come back to finish them off.”
At that moment, an alarm cut through the air, blaring on the speakers. The lights on the ceiling cut out, replaced with their flashing red emergency counterparts. Steve must have gotten the security system working.
Andreas grumbled. “We need to keep moving. The entire city will be on top of us soon. Come on.” He turned to Madeline. “Enjoy your last few minutes alive, Madeline. This time, I’ll be sure to confirm the kill.”
“Try it!” she snarled.
As much as I so desperately wanted to stay there with Vivienne and do what little I could to help her, I had no choice but to climb to my feet and follow Andreas as he moved into the hallway. I couldn’t even look back at them.
We broke into a jog, heading deeper into the building. Every juddering step was like taking a baseball bat to the face and the arm at the same time. It was the worst, most enduring pain I’d ever felt. If not for the adrenaline still buzzing through me, I was certain I’d have blacked out. If I could only regain control of my body…
There was no way this chip was blocking every signal, right? I was still breathing, and my heart was still beating, so it had to be letting some stuff through. And, come to think of it, Andreas hadn’t seemed all-that surprised that my fire powers didn’t activate; he was just mad that I didn’t do what he said.
That was it! There must’ve been a way to overcome it! I just needed to figure out how. Knowing Andreas, regaining full control was no doubt impossible, but if I could just move a hand; manipulate a whisper of shadow under my own will, it might make all the difference.
As we ran, I shut my mind off from the pain and focused on my fingers. All I needed was a little twitch, and I would know. I concentrated solely on moving them, closing my eyes, knowing that my body would go wherever Andreas wanted regardless.
Move your index finger
Just a twitch
A tiny little wiggle
Just-
My index finger twitched. I did it. I fucking did it. Okay. All hope wasn’t lost just yet.
We stopped running. I opened my eyes.
Oh no.
Ashley stood in front of us, holding the handles of Siobhan’s wheelchair, staring like a deer in the headlights. They must have been heading for the safe room.
He put a hand up. “A-Andreas, wait-”
“Crush him, Jordyn.”
Immediately, I focused all of my energy back into retaking control of my body, but it was too little too late. I could do nothing to stop my arms from raising, and shadow from enveloping Ashley’s body, lifting him into the air and squeezing.
I cried out from behind my muzzle. Siobhan screamed at Andreas to stop. But nothing would get in the way of his wrath. Ashley shrieked as his bones cracked and shattered under the force of my power; blood spraying from his throat and spilling from his nose. The sound pierced my brain, settling right next to the image of Vivienne dropping. Andreas forced me to keep going until every bone in his body was broken.
Finally, he ordered me to release him. I had just enough control over the command to set him down gently, as if it was some sort of consolation. As if I hadn’t just broken and ruined him, condemning him to die the most painful death imaginable, choking on his own blood as shards of bone pierced his lungs.
Siobhan sobbed, staring down at Ashley with those cloudy eyes. Andreas paid her no mind, pulling out his magnum and aiming it at his distant cousin. Ashley had long since lost consciousness. He would no longer be afraid, no longer be in pain. At least Andreas had the mercy to finish him off.
No. He will not die yet.
Andreas pulled the trigger, and my fingers twitched. Shadows filled the gap between the hammer and the firing pin, stopping it in its path.
He shot me a glare, and tried to fire again. Once again, I stopped him.
“Cease this disobedience at once! You cannot save him!”
For a moment, the shadows dropped – my fingers resuming his command – but I retook control in an instant, and plugged the gap before he could even pull the trigger again.
He looked at me, eyes wide with something akin to disbelief, like he couldn’t possibly imagine me acting out like this. I glared back at him, every iota of rage in my body pouring out of my eyes. I growled from my throat, expressing myself in the only way I could right now. He could force me to hurt my friends, but I would not stand idly by while he killed them. If there was anything, anything, in my power that would slow him down, I would do it. He needed me. There was nothing more he could do to me that was worse than what he’d already done.
I refused.
Siobhan’s sobs turned to laughter. “Even after everything, you’re still just an ineffectual little boy. You’ve tortured and abused this poor girl to the end of her rope, and still she refuses to do what you say. You were never fit to bear the de Vygon name, and no matter what you do, you never will be. Even if you manage to get her to unleash the Godling, you will still fail, Andreas, and you’re too blind to see it. Your life will mean nothing. Nothing you do will ever have any significance, and you will die in obscurity, remembered only as a tiny offshoot of my family tree.”
Andreas scowled with a rage I’d never seen in him before. He stomped over and smashed her face with the butt of his gun, sending her crashing to the floor next to her son.
“I’m not about to be lectured by a blind old woman who ran our family name into the ground!” he spat. “Enjoy listening to your son die. Come on, Jordyn. We have work to do.”
Apparently too worked up to remember my disobedience, he turned and continued jogging down the hallway, dragging me along with him.
I’m so sorry, Ashley. Please survive. Somehow.
We didn’t get too far before our next roadblock appeared, as we passed by the door to the security room. I’d been hoping for something like this
The door slammed open and Steve came out, pointing a gun at us.
“Hands up! Put your hands up right now!”
We both paused, staring at him. Andreas’ gun was holstered. Steve had him. All he needed to do was pull the trigger, and it would be over.
“Jordy-” Andreas started.
Steve’s gun went off, the bullet impacting somewhere over Andreas’ shoulder.
“Don’t try it. I know about your little trick. If I even think you’re about to say something, I’ll put you down.”
Andreas stared at him, eyes wide.
“Hands up,” Steve demanded. “I won’t ask again.”
To my surprise, Andreas obeyed. My hands were still stuck down at my sides, paralyzed by Andreas’ previous orders, but that was okay. Steve only had his sights set on him.
“Okay,” Steve breathed. “Hands behind your head.”
Once again, Andreas followed the command with aching slowness, like the action brought him physical pain. Steve limped forwards and reached into Andreas’ jacket, pulling out his magnum and throwing it down the hallway, far out of reach.
“Kneel.”
I couldn’t believe my eyes. Andreas actually dropped to the floor. He was beaten. We’d won.
Vivienne, slowly choking on her own blood.
Ashley, his entire body crushed.
No. No, we hadn’t won. They were still dying, and it was all my fault, and there was nothing I could do about it. Vivienne was going to die, and it was all my fault.
“Are you alright, Jordyn?” Steve asked, looking at me but keeping his gun trained on Andreas.
I returned his gaze, looking him in the eye. He knew. Of course he knew; he was the one to turn on the alarm.
“I’m sorry,” I tried to say, as if that was anything close to enough, but all that came out through the muzzle was a quiet mumble.
Steve seemed to understand. His eyes filled with tears, but he clenched his jaw and held back whatever was coming. “It’ll be okay. I’ve called an ambulance. They’ll save her. Ashley too. And we’ll… we’ll… get that thing off of you.”
I wanted to believe him. The picture his words painted sounded so beautiful; a world where everything turned out okay, despite it all. But it was just too good to be true. Good things didn’t happen to people like me, or the people around me. I was a black hole, sucking in the happiness of my loved ones and ruining their lives, forcing them into my orbit all the while. I was created to hurt people, and that was all I’d ever done.
Steve moved around behind Andreas, reaching into his jacket for something. He searched around for an oddly long time; a frown forming on his brow.
“Where the hell are those cuffs?” he muttered, swapping hands.
His pistol drifted away from Andreas’ head. I knew right then it was all over.
Andreas moved like a viper, striking out and jabbing his elbow into the meat of Steve’s bad leg. Steve screamed, dropping like a sack of bricks, and Andreas grabbed for the gun. He put his hands around it, trying to yank it away, but Steve regained control of himself and held fast, kneeing Andreas in the side with his good leg and following it up with a headbutt to the nose.
They fell into a grapple, both of them trying to get a good grip on the gun, hitting each other with elbows and knees wherever they could. Steve was quickly losing ground though, thanks to his injuries – just another thing I caused. But this time, maybe I could help out.
I flexed my hand, reaching out to what little shadows I still had control over. They wrapped around Andreas’ ankle, tugging him slightly, just enough to throw him off balance and allow Steve a chance for a heavy hit. He took it, letting go of the gun with one hand to punch Andreas right in the mouth, splitting his lips with a burst of blood.
Andreas recoiled. “Jordy- mmph!”
“No you don’t!” Steve yelled, covering Andreas’ mouth with his free hand.
Steve started screaming, though I couldn’t see why until they rolled back around, leaving Andreas on the bottom. Andreas had gotten his teeth around two of Steve’s fingers, and was biting down hard enough that blood was pouring down his hand.
Andreas pulled away with a yank, and I watched on in horror as Steve’s fingers came with him. Steve shrieked, reflexively backing off, and Andreas took his opportunity, snatching the gun from him. He fired once, twice, three times straight into Steve’s gut, and Steve dropped, going limp on the floor, unmoving.
Fuck.
Andreas got to his feet, spitting out Steve’s fingers. He stalked over to me and grabbed a fistful of my hair, leaning in close enough for me to smell the blood on his breath.
“I might need you right now, but I just want you to know, when this is all over? You are going to suffer like you’ve never suffered before.”
Steve groaned. We looked over to him, watching as he regained consciousness and realised what had happened.
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck,” he whimpered, looking down at the holes in his stomach. “Fuck.” He glanced up at me. “I can’t feel my legs.”
Andreas huffed a laugh. “Well then, I suppose you’d better start crawling. If you’re quick enough, you might just make it back to your niece before she bleeds out.”
The expression Steve made in response to that would have broken my heart, if it hadn’t already been turned to dust three times over today.
Andreas grabbed the wrist of my broken arm and yanked, pulling me along with him as he continued. I dry-heaved behind the muzzle from the pain alone, immensely grateful that I skipped lunch. Why? Why did he have to be so cruel?
There was nothing left. The door wasn’t far now, and we’d already gotten through most of the Union’s defences. Even if other heroes arrived, they wouldn’t make it in time. It was over. We lost.
I didn’t want to be alive anymore. I just wanted it all to end.
—
Maggie grit her teeth, flapping her wings against the cold night air and clutching Hex close to her chest. Her phone had been sent a Union Code Black alert; a signal only used when the Union itself was under attack. That could only mean one thing.
Andreas had made his move.
If it was serious enough for the alert to be issued, he must not be messing around. Jordyn was meant to be at the Union tonight, and if she couldn’t hold him off… Things were probably bad.
It was why, against her better judgement, Maggie decided to bring Hex along, at her insistence. She hated the idea of putting her sister in danger, but Hex’s power was undeniable. She could single-handedly take someone out of the playing field entirely by gripping them with her telekinesis. Depending on how many clones Andreas brought with him, that assistance could be vital. Maggie could slug it out with the best of them, but even she had limits, especially against powered super-soldiers.
They landed at the front door of the Union. It was already open, so they went right in, stepping into the oppressive shrieking of the alarm and the disorientating flash of the red warning lights. It didn’t take long for them to find their first signs of trouble.
It came in the form of the massive dome of ice, situated in the corner of the conference room. Madeline’s handiwork, no doubt. It was a little hard to make out, but it looked like there were people inside of it.
The two of them rushed over and peered through the ice. Madeline and Brianna were kneeling on the floor, next to Vivienne’s bloody, unmoving body. Maggie could just make out the rise and fall of her chest, but it was weak. Oh god, Jordyn was going to be crushed.
“Hey!” she called out. “What the hell’s going on?”
Madeline turned to her, eyes full of tears. “Maggie? Oh, thank god.” She got up, coming over to the ice wall and putting her hands up against it. “I overdid it with the ice, and now Brea and I are stuck and we can’t get Vivienne the help she needs. Do you think you can break us out?”
Maggie frowned, looking at the ice. It seemed pretty thick. “Uhh, I can try. Hex, stand back.”
“Okay,” Hex said, doing as she was told. “What happened?” she asked Madeline.
Maggie started slamming the ice with her elbows as Madeline explained the situation. “De Vygon is controlling Jordyn somehow. He’s finally come to break the Godling out. He… he took us by surprise, shot Viv the second he came through the door. I don’t know what the situation is like further in, but they’re probably getting close to the prison by now.”
“Ugh, this isn’t working,” Maggie said, rubbing her elbows. She’d made a few good dents, but it would take a lot more than that to get through.
“It’s fine, just go,” Madeline said. “If he frees the Godling, none of this will matter. You need to stop him. We’ll… we’ll figure something out, okay?”
Maggie could see it in her eyes. She knew there was no hope for Vivienne, and she’d already resigned herself to it. Fuck.
Maggie clenched her fists and nodded. Humanity’s survival was more important than the life of a single person, no matter who it was.
“Come on, Hex. Let’s go.”
She grabbed Hex’s hand and ran into the hallways before she could second-guess herself. They didn’t get very far before their next sign of Andreas’ incursion: Ashley lying on the floor in a crumpled, broken heap; his mother holding his hand and crying.
At least they knew they were heading in the right direction. But, only Jordyn could’ve done that kind of damage. Was he really controlling her?
Regardless, there was nothing they could do to help here, so they quickly moved on.
Steve was the next one they came across, clutching his gut and groaning. There was a foul smell in the air.
“Steve!” Maggie called, running up to him. “Are you alright?”
“Go!” he said, waving them off. “They’re almost at the prison. You need to stop them!”
“Fuck!” Maggie yelled, returning to her sprint, making sure Hex stayed close behind.
The hallways quickly became more and more deteriorated as they went. She could understand why; there was no reason for anyone to ever go down here, aside from upgrading and reinforcing the door, which hadn’t been done since the 1950s, apparently. Eventually, they came to a point where the sound of the alarm only existed as an echo in the distance, and the red warning lights were replaced with simple yellow bulbs, noisily flickering on the ceiling.
There was something strange about the air down here. It felt… thick, for lack of a better word. Like the space itself around them was pushing in, crackling with energy. Anxiety rose in Maggie’s throat. No wonder no one ever came down here. This was fundamentally wrong. Every animal instinct in her body screamed at her to leave. Hex gripped her arm tighter. They pressed on, trying to shake off the feeling of being watched by an unknown predator.
“Alright,” came a voice Maggie had never wanted to hear again, echoing around the corner. “Everything’s ready. Stand back.”
Maggie and Hex rushed forward, following the sound.
There they were. Andreas, dressed in all his usual military attire with a bloody and bruised face, and Jordyn, trapped in her old armour with some horrible contraption stuck to her head, covering her mouth and nose. Behind them, a huge metal door, like the type you’d see on a ship or a submarine, with a big valve handle in the middle. The edges were lined with strange runes, glinting in the dim light. All had been recently slashed through, judging by the rust patterns. Beyond them, resting on the concrete around the door, were several blocks of what Maggie recognised as C4 breaching charges, all wired up and ready to blow.
They turned, investigating the noise. Jordyn’s eyes were wide and wet, trailing tears down her cheeks. The edges of her mask were lined with blood. Andreas scowled, pulling a revolver out of his jacket and firing at them.
Maggie dived, trying to shield Hex, but it ended up not mattering. No bullets ever impacted, despite the gun going off at least six times. Maggie turned, shocked to see all the bullets hovering in the air in front of her. They clattered to the ground ineffectually.
Andreas growled. “Hex.”
She smirked. “Not so useless anymore, am I?”
Wow, thank fuck she brought her along. Maggie got back to her feet, squaring up. “It’s over, Andreas. We’re gonna stop you.”
“No, you’re not,” he calmly replied. “Kill them, Jordyn.”
Maggie steeled herself for an onslaught of shadow, but once again, she needn’t have bothered. Jordyn yelped as her body lifted off the ground, curling up into a ball. Shadows wisped off of her, trying to reach out through the dark gaps in her armour, but whatever Hex was doing was keeping them firmly in place. Jordyn whimpered, as if in pain, but Maggie couldn’t spare a thought for her wellbeing right now. Not yet.
Maggie took her chance, charging forward and swinging for Andreas. She was gonna take his fucking head off.
He was ready for her, ducking and slipping around behind her. She spun, seeing the glint of metal in the corner of her eye. The knife was heading right for her kidney, but she reached back and blocked Andreas at the wrist. He immediately backed off, settling into a stance she was used to seeing only in the mirror, holding his combat blade in a backhand grip.
“I said kill them, Jordyn! There are more than enough shadows around! Use your head for a change!”
Maggie moved at him, slinging out a roundhouse kick. He ducked, stabbing at her head. She blocked it, kneeing him in the side. Ribs cracked and he grunted, but it wasn’t enough. He palm-striked her in the throat and she gagged, backing up. Her back hit the wall and she kicked off of it, using her wings as extra propulsion, throwing a haymaker. Andreas was locked on to her movements, however, dodging to the side and slashing the knife down her back as she passed.
Maggie grit her teeth against the white-hot pain as hot blood spread through her back feathers, flipping over in the air and landing in a crouch. It was stupid of her to assume this would be easy just because he couldn’t control her anymore and she was so much stronger. He taught her everything she knew about fighting.
Hex made a strange noise. All of a sudden, Jordyn clattered to the ground, free of her telekinetic bonds. Maggie looked over to see what the problem was.
Oh fuck.
Hex stood there, staring down at the spear of shadow protruding from her abdomen. She looked up at Maggie, and tried to say something, but all that came out of her mouth was blood.
“HEX!”
Maggie dashed over as the shadow dissipated and more blood poured out of the wound, catching Hex as her legs buckled.
“It- it’s not that- th- that bad,” Hex mumbled, still sputtering up blood. Her hands shook like she’d just taken a shot of pure adrenaline. “D-don’t worry about me.”
“Hex, you-!”
“You need to stop them!” she hissed, reaching up and putting a bloody hand on Maggie’s cheek. “You need to! I’ll be fine!”
The tears in her eyes told a different story to the words coming from her lips, but Maggie took heed anyway. Maybe she wanted to believe Hex was right. Maybe she understood the gravity of the situation; that stopping them was more important than the preservation of one single life. Maybe she just wanted to fucking kill both of those motherfuckers right fucking now. Regardless of the reason, she left Hex on her own, got back to her feet, and turned.
Andreas glared at her with determined fire in his eyes. Jordyn continued to cry. Maggie took a breath and settled into her stance.
Reasonably, she understood that it wasn’t Jordyn’s fault. But that didn’t change anything. If killing Jordyn was what it took for her and Hex to survive, Maggie would do it in a heartbeat. Same as it had always been. It was Five and Six against the world, ever since the beginning. And by the look in Jordyn’s eye, it didn’t seem like she would mind being put out of her misery.
This was it. The final stand.
“Alright, little sister,” she muttered. “Let’s see if you’ve gotten any better since the last time I kicked your ass.”
“Break her, Jordyn, but keep her alive,” Andreas said. “I want her to live to see my ascension before I finish her off.”
The shadows around the room converged all at once. Maggie dove out of the way, charging towards Jordyn. Fuck, she wish she brought her guns.
She kicked Jordyn in the chest with all her might, throwing her back against the door and leaving a dent in her chestplate. Jordyn squeezed her eyes shut and yelped, but Maggie spared no thought for the pain she was causing. It was the only way.
Step one was reducing her power capabilities, which meant disabling her movement. To that end, Maggie darted forward while Jordyn was still stunned, grabbing her arm and tugging violently while hooking a leg around her midsection. Her shoulder dislocated with a disgusting pop.
She was about to move for the other one when pain shocked through her system as one of her wings popped right out of its socket. She’d barely even noticed the pressure of it being grabbed.
What?
Maggie stumbled back, gasping in pain, as darkness wrapped itself around her arms and legs. Jordyn whined, getting to her feet, and the shadows only strengthened against Maggie’s struggle. Far too quickly, her limbs were totally restrained, and her body was lifted into the air. Fuck. Fuck!
Jordyn’s eyes opened, and Maggie watched as they went wide, taking in the situation. This was the worst possible outcome.
Andreas smirked. “Really, did you think you stood a chance? Jordyn is at her most powerful in the dark, and down here there is nothing but darkness. She controls the very air itself!”
No. No! She was not done yet!
Maggie roared, straining every single fibre of muscle she had against the shadows. She would not be beaten like this!
Shadows ripped like dark cloth, and her right arm broke free. There was still hope yet!
Andreas clicked his tongue. “Stop stalling, Jordyn. Finish her off.”
All at once, the remaining shadows constricted in different directions. Maggie felt each sharp crack as the bones in her arm and legs snapped, breaking like twigs.
It was a deep, guttural horror that dawned on her as she processed what just happened, in the microseconds before the pain struck. There had never been a time where Jordyn wasn’t going easy on her, was there?
Fuck, Maggie never stood a chance.
The noise Maggie made as white-hot agony flooded every nerve ending in her body was not recognisable as human. It clawed out of her chest, leaving deep gashes in her throat, forcing its way out into the world as an unholy wail. Thankfully, Maggie’s awareness didn’t last much longer than that, and everything went dark.
—
Madeline didn’t know which experience of losing a loved one was worse. Rosie’s, where she’d already been long gone by the time Maddie found out about it, or… this. Watching the light slowly leave Vivienne’s eyes, trying to make her as comfortable as possible while knowing there was nothing that could be done anymore.
Brianna had Viv’s head in her lap, and was gently stroking her hair, softly crying and whispering to her. Maddie knelt by her side, holding her hand and feeling totally numb. Viv, for her part, did nothing but lay there, staring up at the ceiling, occasionally wheezing and gurgling, coughing up blood. It wasn’t clear whether she was actually seeing anything anymore. She’d been unresponsive since the shot.
CPR was useless. She was still breathing and her heart was still beating, for now. Madeline had created a makeshift bandage out of bundled up socks, tied to the wound with her jacket in some ineffectual attempt to stem the exterior bleeding. The bullet would’ve torn her right lung apart, if not any other major… thing in its path. Internal bleeding was probably massive. Maddie didn’t know much about the human body, but she knew from the get-go chances of survival were slim.
If only she hadn’t built this stupid dome of ice. She and Brea might have been able to run Viv to a hospital. Or, maybe, they’d all have a new breathing hole in their heads, courtesy of Andreas’ Magnum. Maybe there was no version of reality where Vivienne survived tonight. There was no use dwelling on the what-ifs now. All they had was the present, and the truth.
Regardless of whether Maggie or whoever stopped Andreas, the damage was already done. Vivienne was dead. Her and whoever else got in Andreas and Jordyn’s path.
It wasn’t fucking fair.
“It should’ve been me,” she muttered, quiet enough that even Brea would’ve struggled to hear her. She carefully lifted Vivienne’s hand, pressing it against her forehead. It was cold and clammy.
“You deserved so much more, Viv. You were the best of us. No… no matter how far I fell, you were always there to pick me back up. You sacrificed days of your life just to look after me. You were the one who prompted us to start looking into Jordyn, all because you were worried about a stranger you knew nothing about. The… the only thing that mattered to you was helping people. It… it shouldn’t end like this. It’s not fair!”
Madeline started sobbing, waves of grief finally pouring over the barricade of numb dissociation.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry! I should’ve been so much better to you. You were my best fucking friend and I just used you! Over and over! I barely even fucking thanked you! Just… please. Please don’t go. I can’t lose you too. I won’t fucking survive it. It’s fucking selfish but I won’t. I’ll be better, I- I’ll treat you like the fucking queen you are, just please. Please don’t leave us…”
Maddie squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see this anymore.
A warmth washed over her, familiar and comforting. With it, the stroke of hands brushing against her face. She knew those hands; their shape, their texture, their scent. It had been five long years since she felt them, but she still knew them by heart.
Open your eyes, my love. You need to go. Jordyn needs your help.
The painfully familiar voice in her ears was accompanied by a rain of cold water over her head. Brianna gasped as well, equally in shock. This wasn’t just a grief-fuelled hallucination. Madeline opened her eyes.
It didn’t make any sense. There was no conceivable way for it to have happened. And yet, it had. The ice dome had melted away.
“Wh…what? What happened?” Brea asked.
“I’m not sure. The ice melted.”
Brianna perked up, clumsily grabbing Maddie’s arm. “Then you need to go! Maggie might need your help!”
Maddie frowned. “What?”
“You’re the Union’s last available combat hero. You could be the last thing standing between Andreas and the Godling. So get off your ass and go!”
Brea shoved her, and Maddie stumbled to her feet. “What about you?”
An odd expression passed over her face. “I… I’m just gonna stay here and make sure Viv’s comfortable. You never know, help might arrive in time. I’m… I’m no use to anybody otherwise.”
There was obviously… something going on there, but Maddie had no time to worry about it right now. She nodded, turning and sprinting off down the hall, grateful that her knee had long-since healed.
Sorry to ditch you like that, Viv. Catch you later.
A loud boom echoed through the hallways, shaking the very foundations of the building. Fuck. She might already be too late.
Maddie bit back her tears as she ran, doing her best to ignore the carnage in her path. Ashley and Siobhan. Steve. And then, as she turned the final corner in the old halls, Maggie and Hex.
Both were unconscious; Maggie, face up, with most of her limbs twisted in the wrong direction, wings splayed out like a dead bird’s. Hex, face down, a trail of blood leading from a spot on the floor to where she was now. They were holding hands. Together, despite it all, against the oncoming end of the world.
What could Madeline possibly hope to achieve in the face of such destruction? She didn’t know. But she pressed on anyway. How could she not, in the face of an order from beyond the grave?
The door to the prison had been entirely blown out of the wall, leaving its intimidating, gaping maw wide open. Beyond the wall was darkness, thick and pure, with concrete steps leading down into it. The air buzzed with something unnatural. Every instinct screamed at her to turn back.
But now wasn’t the time to stop being a hero. Madeline entered the Godling’s prison and began her descent into its depths.
The stairwell spiraled downwards in the darkness, with only the cold, claustrophobic walls as direction. Eventually, light began spilling up from below. The buzz had become an incessant ringing, vibrating her skeleton inside of her body, causing the insides of her ears to itch.
Madeline reached the bottom. A hard-packed dirt floor was there to greet her. Wind blew from somewhere, flicking her fringe against her face. It was oddly warm. She looked up, realising she’d been staring at the ground.
A desiccated corpse hovered in the middle of the room, ostensibly the source of this otherworldly light and breeze. Its shrivelled, decomposed skin was in surprisingly good condition, considering it should’ve been at least 700 years old. Rusted manacles chained it to the ground, lined with the same runes that used to be on the door upstairs. A sword made of gleaming black metal, inscribed with those same runes, pierced the cadaver through the chest. Golden liquid flowed down the tip of the blade, slowly dripping off onto the floor, where it was then sucked up by the earth. Something about the sight of the body made Maddie’s mind hurt.
It was the Godling, sealed inside the body of Its last human host. And Jordyn was slowly stepping closer to It, pushing through the invisible barrier.
Madeline snapped out of her amazed-and-terrified stupor, remembering what she was here to do. Andreas was right next to her, too caught up in the show to notice her presence.
She was gonna break his fucking jaw.
Madeline froze the air around her fist into ice knuckles, wound back, and threw the most important sucker-punch of her life.
It cracked against Andreas’ face like a cannonball. His head whipped to the side, teeth spilling out of his mouth, before he dropped like a sack of bricks. He was done. Now for the hard part.
Maddie looked over to Jordyn.
Her hands were already on the hilt of the blade.
“Jordyn! Don’t do it!”
—
Maddie’s cry was a noble effort, but it was already far too late for me. Andreas’ previous command had already inscribed itself in my muscles and bones, and there was no use trying to break out of it. All I could manage were a few meagre twitches of my finger.
And, after everything… after Vivienne, and Ashley, and Steve, and Hex, and Maggie. I just didn’t have it in me to try anymore. Everything hurt. I wanted to be over. I wanted to end. By all accounts, pulling this sword out would achieve that, one way or another. My body could do what it wanted. I didn’t care anymore.
With one last agonising tug from my dislocated shoulder and my broken humerus, the sword slid out of the Godling’s body, and everything went white.
.
..
…
I opened my eyes. Everything was still white. All around me, just an endless plane of white. It was quiet, but there was an energy about the place, not too different from how it felt outside.
What is your wish, Child of Shadow?
I spun around, searching for the source of the voice. All that greeted me was emptiness. It seemed to come from all around me at once, high and low, gruff and airy, masculine and feminine. An impossible voice for an impossible being.
Perhaps the Child cannot communicate? It shall be returned to a natural state.
In an instant, every bond on my body disappeared. My armour dissipated into dust. The muzzle melted away. I felt a tingle at the back of my neck, along with a warm itchiness everywhere I’d been hurt recently. Reaching up to touch my face, I found no trace of the holes from Andreas’ drill. Not even any scars, aside from the old one.
Was this… the power of the Godling?
State your wish. Your one, deepest desire. It shall be granted in full accordance with your expectations. No tricks, no deceptions. This is the reward for freeing It from Its bonds.
I knew Andreas’ wish well enough. He’d barked it to me while ordering me to pull the sword out. ‘Wish for the Godling’s power to all be transferred to me,’ he said.
But… I had no compulsion to say that.
I had no compulsion to say anything.
“I… I don’t know,” I whispered. There was too much I wanted to ever put into words. Desires I’d had since the day of my birth, though I hadn’t known it yet. Every day I spent on the streets only made it grow hotter, more intense, sitting at the back of my heart. The love I found at the Union assuaged it somewhat, but it never truly went away, not even through those last few months of peace.
Today, it burned the brightest it had ever burned; an incandescent beacon incinerating my soul. And yet, It was so hot that I couldn’t handle it. My tongue fumbled around its searing edges, trying and failing to find the shape of it. This was my one chance, and it was going to pass me by. Truly typical.
The world rumbled in what I could only assume was a hum.
It sees the shape of your wish, Child of Shadow. ‘To mend all the hurt caused by the sin of your creation.’ It shall be done.
‘Mend the hurt caused by the sin of my creation?’
…I couldn’t have put it better myself.
The world turned dark. I passed out.
—
The Sisters came first, clutching each other in their last moments. Torn flesh grew back together, bones realigning until they were back in their rightful places. Once, a desperate final bid for connection, now, a gentle slumber induced by exhaustion, and nothing more.
Next, the Uncle. Lost nerves found their way again, amidst a sea of broken pathways. Slugs of lead burrowed their way out of organ tissue and subcutaneous fat, rolling out onto the floor as skin regrew behind them. The Uncle opened his eyes, frowning at the odd sensation.
The Son was a similar job to the older sister. Lots of bones fitting back into place, knitting themselves together again. Crushed muscle reinflated, sucking back in all of the potassium, myoglobin, and lactic acid it released. Deflated lungs filled up again, and he coughed. His mother rejoiced, though she knew the cost of his survival.
It was very nearly too late for the Niece. Her soul had already departed her body, just a few seconds earlier. If not for the determination of the soul of another, there would be nothing to be done. Bound to this world by kin and by fate, that soul remained, beckoning the Niece back, away from the great Nothing. The bullet pushed its way out of her chest, lung tissue and ribs mending themselves as her heart began to beat again and her soul returned to its rightful place. She sighed, vision returning to unseeing eyes, revealing the face of a dear friend.
And the soul was pulled away.
On the outskirts of the city, in a small, peaceful graveyard, something stirred below the ground. Desiccated flesh rehydrated itself. A large hole was patched over; empty space replaced by usable material. Blood vessels refilled, flushing themselves of chemicals, already beginning to flow again as a heart that had rested for five years began beating once more.
The soul returned to that place which it was plucked from, so so long ago. Home.
Rosalyn Garcia-Holmes opened her eyes.
The first thing she did was blink. Nope, still pitch black.
You don't know how long I've been waiting to drop that bomb at the end lol
hope you all enjoyed the finale to the escape arc! it was intense to write and i hope it was just as intense to read! I actually brought myself to tears while writing maddie's lil monologue to vivienne lol
i wanted to hold this back until the 19th, as that's the one year anniversary of me releasing Project Genesis, but I decided I couldn't wait. so consider this an early birthday present!
dunno how long it'll be till the next one. might take a break, might not. hard to say rn. regardless, i'll need to plan out the final arc anyway, so that'll probably push it back a bit
