Superboy wakes up in a prison.
In the cell, sitting across from him, there's a teen that looks like another offshoot clone of Clark.
He learns in bits and pieces that he's been captures by a shadow government organization hellbent on ridding the world of anyone "ecto-contaminated", or anyone who has ever been dead.
Since he'd died before, even though he came back, he set off their sensors.
He doesn't remember how he got caught, doesn't remember what he was doing prior, but the walls are made of a weird material that glows green and cancels out his powers. It also doesn't hurt him.
Diluted kryptonite? He'll have to steal some and give it to Tim.
According to the kid, they've been forcibly detained to "serve their sentence for illegal immigration from the Realm of the Dead to the Realm of the Living" by way of routinely allowing themselves to be subjected to medical procedures. They are always being watched, they aren't the only ones captive, that apparently his entire high school had been condemned to it as well as some literal ghosts, and if he struggles then they won't give him the mercy of sedation while they do their experiments.
And Kon can't use his power to escape, or free this kid, or free any of the other prisoners. It's the worst case scenario.
Thank fuck he's best friends with a paranoid Bat that might have more contingencies than the Big Bat Himself.
Kon activates the only subdermal tracker he'd allowed Tim to place under his skin, and settles down to wait.
A prison of this design, but more high tech and with less privacy. Apparently the idea behind it was that you couldn't see the guards, but they could see you, and the lights would move at random to make you think they were paying attention all the time.
Two guards entered the cell. “Come with us, Byrnes,” one of them said, his eyes bored. Micah swallowed nervously. None of them had left the cell since they had arrived three weeks ago. He got to his feet and followed the guards out into the hall. He lost track of how many turns they made until suddenly they stopped at a dark wooden door. One of the guards knocked before opening the door and leading Micah inside.
“Leave,” Weisman said with a wave of his hand. The guards left, the door closing ominously behind them. Weisman was sitting in an overstuffed leather chair, a glass of wine dangling in his hand.
“Kneel,” he said. Micah got to his knees, all the while keeping eye contact with the bastard.
“Sir-”
“No talking, Lieutenant. I want to enjoy my beverage,” Weisman said, taking a casual sip. It took ten minutes for the captain to finish his drink. Micah’s knees were starting to ache from the hard wooden floor and his heart was pounding. Finally the vampire set his glass down and made his way over to Micah. Micah held his gaze, though he had to crane his neck since Weisman was now standing directly in front of him. The slap came without warning, a flash of bright red pain on his cheek. Micah gasped.
“I hate you Torins,” Weisman growled, grabbing Micah by the collar and pulling him to his feet. “Do you know why?” Micah didn’t respond, he didn’t know if he should. If Weisman wanted him to. Another slap. “Answer me when I talk to you, Byrnes. Do you know why I hate Torins?”
“N-no sir,” Micah said shakily.
“I hate them because they’re weak. Pathetic. Arrogant. You act like you’re better than us because you treat your humans more ethically.” The sarcasm was thick on that last word. “Like the blood bags know the difference. And when we try to get more humans to feed our people what do you do? You attack us. You never learned to share. Think of that, Lieutenant. All of the lives wasted because of Torin greed.”
Micah was silent, even though he bristled at the implication that the Torins had been the ones to start the war. Clearly, the Lucians were the aggressors. He didn’t want to respond though, to risk antagonizing the captain.
“What do you have to say?” Weisman spat out.
Micah licked his lips, stalling for time. “We would have given you humans if you had just asked,” Micah said finally. The first punch drove the air out of Micah’s lungs. The second one hit his jaw and he felt his fangs rip through his bottom lip. Micah tried to pull away but the weeks of inadequate blood had weakened him.
“I’m going to make you suffer, Torin,” Weisman growled in his ear. “I’m going to make you mine.” And with that Weisman slammed his head into a table and Micah’s world went black.
…
Travis’ eyes went wide when Micah was dumped back into the cell. Bruises littered his face. Dark red blood, almost black, ran down the side of his head and his chin. Aleksander had rushed forward and was cradling Micah’s head in his lap.
“Human!” Aleksander called, his voice tinged with fear. Travis had no choice but to approach. Close up Micah looked even worse and Travis felt a stab of worry. Micah was a blood-sucking leech, yes, but he was also kind. He didn’t deserve to be beaten like this.
“The human is right here, Micah. Can you feed?” Aleksander asked gently. Micah groaned and his eyes fluttered open, not quite focused.
“Yeah,” he said.
Aleksander pulled Travis close so he was leaning against him and then held his wrist out to Micah. Travis didn’t resist. He would have just a week ago, when he was still scared and angry. But now he knew that these vampires were just as much prisoners as he was. And as much as he hated to admit it, he was starting to care about them. Micah lifted a shaky hand and gripped Travis’ wrist gently. He brought it to his mouth and bit down. The venom hit Travis’ system and his muscles went limp. Aleksander supported him as Micah fed. He watched the vampire feed, entranced by the way he could see it happening, could see Micah’s throat moving as he swallowed, but couldn’t feel a thing. Fucking wild.
Travis started to close his eyes, the venom’s fatigue pulling him towards sleep.
“Thank you,” Micah said. Travis blinked his eyes open. He hadn’t realized that Micah had finished feeding.
“Didn’t want you to fuckin’ bleed all over the cell,” Travis said, the venom lowering his inhibitions. Micah shot him a wry smile.
“I appreciate that.” He paused. “You know, you still haven’t told us your name. I really don’t want to just call you “human” all the time.”
Travis sighed. There was no point keeping it secret, since he clearly was going to be stuck with these vampires for the foreseeable future.
“My name’s Travis,” he said, “Can I go to sleep now?”
12 Days of Whumpmas 2021 Four Calling Birds: Muzzled | Memories/Flashbacks | Favorite Holiday Memories
12 Days of Whumpmas 2021 Masterlist / Of Vampires and Men Masterlist
Takes place about three and a half years after Parting Is Such Cruel Sorrow
CW: Vampires, war, guns, prisoners of war, unnamed character deaths, execution of POWs, restraints, threatened teeth whump, muzzle, creepy whumper, vampire whumpees, vampire whumpers, team whump
This battle was going to fucking hell. Micah was pinned down with his platoon. They were almost out of ammunition, and the Lucians were approaching from their flank. They had ten dead and another five wounded. There was no way they were going to make it.
“What are we going to do, sir?” Dimitri asked quietly. He was the newest member of the platoon, had only been out of basic training for a couple months. He was still a kid, only eighteen. Micah closed his eyes. Gods he didn’t want to make this decision. He flinched at the sound of a bullet whizzed overhead. The Lucians were close. When Micah opened his eyes, his soldiers were looking at him. Or at least the twenty that were still alive. He took a deep breath.
“We’re going to surrender,” he said with finality. Dimitri’s face went white.
“But sir… haven’t you heard the stories of how the Lucians treat their prisoners?”
Micah swallowed. “Yes. But if we continue to fight we’ll be massacred. At least this way we might have a chance at survival.” He was throwing his life and those of his men at the Lucian’s feet and praying that they would be shown mercy. There wasn’t any guarantee that that would happen.
Micah tied a cloth to the end of his bayonet, and struck his flint to get a spark. He lit the cloth on fire and raised the bayonet high into the air, the international sign of surrender. The shooting stopped and he let out a sigh of relief.
The sound of marching feet grew nearer. “Everybody, put down your weapons. We don’t want to give them a reason to hurt us,” Micah said shortly. Gods, he had never gambled in his life and this felt like the worst way to start. The stakes were so high.
The Lucians stopped about twenty yards away. “Who is the commanding officer?”
“That would be me. Lieutenant Micah Byrnes,” Micah said, stepping forward. He was proud that his voice didn’t shake.
“On your knees, hands on your head,” the Lucian said. Micah’s stomach dropped but he complied. Water soaked through the knees of his trousers. “All of you,” the Lucian spat. Micah heard his men get to their knees behind him. The Lucians spread out, surrounding them.
The vampire who had spoken stepped up, striding forward so he towered over Micah. “I am Captain Ulrich Weisman of the 34th Division. You are all now prisoners of the Lucian army. Trying to escape or fight back will be punished by death. As commanding officer, you are in charge of the behavior of your men. I expect you to keep them in line. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir.”
“Make sure they all are disarmed,” Weisman said. The Lucians started moving among Micah’s men, searching them for weapons. Weisman crouched down in front of Micah.
“Let me be very clear. I don’t care if you and your men live or die. If you care, you better make sure to stay on my good side.”
Micah nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
“They’re clear, sir,” a Lucian said. Weisman nodded standing up.
“Prisoners, single file,” he said. Micah stood up, his men falling into line behind him.
Micah spoke up.“Sir, we have wounded. They won’t be able to walk, but we can carry them.”
Weisman turned back to him. “I have no use for wounded soldiers. Ansel, Heinrich, kill them.”
Micah’s heart skipped a beat. No, this wasn’t what was supposed to happen.
“Wait, no…,” Micah began. That got him a slap across the face, so powerful that he was knocked to the ground. Then Weisman was grabbing his hair, pulling him upright. Micah gasped, tears in his eyes.
“My word is law, Lieutenant. Be grateful that I’m granting them a quick death.” He heard his soldiers begging before the sound of pistols firing split the air. Then all was silent.
“Move out,” Weisman said, walking away. Micah shakily got to his feet, following the Lucian. The rest of the enemy soldiers surrounded them. Micah had the sinking feeling that he had made a very big mistake.
It was starting to drizzle, cool water soaking the prisoners to the bone as they followed the Lucians towards the enemy camp. Lucians were bustling around and stopped what they were doing as Micah and his men were led through camp. They stopped somewhere in the middle, near the command tent, and were ordered to their knees again. The Lucians started fastening their hands behind their backs with shackles. “Tomorrow you’ll be transferred to the POW camp at Fort Norris. Lucky for you, I’m one of the wardens there.”
Micah closed his eyes. Fort Norris was way behind enemy lines, in Lucian territory. The likelihood of them being rescued was falling. Micah whipped his head around at the sound of a slap. Dimitri was on the ground, hunching over to protect his face as a Lucian kicked him.
“Hey! Leave him alone!” Micah shouted.
The Lucian turned towards Weisman, snarling. “The little shit spit at me. That’s a punishable offense. Can I kill him, Captain?”
Weisman seemed to consider this. Then a smile spread across his face. “Let’s see what the Lieutenant thinks. Your soldier showed disrespect, which is punishable by death. But I’m feeling in a merciful mood. Either I’ll kill him or punish you. You decide.”
“Punish me. Please,” Micah said, choking on the words as he locked eyes with Dimitri. He couldn’t break down in front of his men, but they had been prisoners for less than an hour and already five of his men were dead and one on the cusp of execution. He felt tears come to his eyes.
Weisman grinned. “That’s what I thought you would say. Bring me a muzzle.”
A soldier approached, handing Weisman a contraption of leather and metal. Weisman approached and Micah flinched back in spite of himself.
Weisman tsked. “Flinching isn’t allowed, Lieutenant. Now don’t you dare bite me when I put this on you. Open up.”
Micah gritted his teeth before opening his mouth. Weisman slid the metal bit in behind his teeth. “You have such pretty fangs, Lieutenant. If you’re lucky I might just let you keep them.” Micah’s face paled at that. Weisman tightened the leather straps behind Micah’s head. The muzzle was tight and dug painfully into the sides of his face. He couldn’t open his mouth and the metal pressed down on his tongue uncomfortably.
“I like you better like this,” Weisman said, running a hand through Micah’s hair. Micah closed his eyes as tears started to fall. “What, you’re already crying? Oh you’re going to be fun to break.” Weisman said. He then gave Micah a kick to the gut which sent him to the ground, wheezing.
“Anybody else show my soldiers disrespect and your leader will be hurt some more. Why you follow such a weakling is beyond me,” Weisman said before stalking away. The Lucians finished restraining the prisoners before leaving them in the rain. Micah laid on the ground, tears running down his face. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but whatever it was it would probably be painful.
12 Days of Whumpmas 2021 Six Geese A-Laying: Blackmail | Countdown | Last-Minute Relief
12 Days of Whumpmas 2021 Masterlist / Of Vampires and Men Masterlist
Takes place right after Surrender
CW: Vampires, POWs, muzzle, broken bones, chronic pain, restraints, gun, fear of death, mock execution, multiple whumpees, team whump
Micah and his men had been split between two carts, which were currently making their way through the mountain pass into Lucia. Micah leaned against the wooden slats, exhaustion tugging at his bones. The muzzle was still firmly fastened to his face, painfully tight, and he had lost feeling in his hands long ago from the shackles. He looked at his men and saw only dejection. Every bump in the road jostled the cart and its occupants. Every bump took them farther away from their homeland. It was many hours before the cart finally rolled through the gates of Fort Norris. The stillness felt odd.
The door at the back of the cart was unlatched. “Get out,” a voice snapped. Micah slowly got to his feet, wincing at the sore muscles in his legs. He stepped out of the cart into the courtyard at the center of the fort. Tall walls surrounded it, and metal bars were inset into the walls. Micah just was able to make out faces looking through those bars, studying the newcomers.
“Get up,” a voice said. Micah turned to see one of his men, Hadrian, collapsed on the ground. Micah felt a twinge of fear. Hadrian was his oldest soldier and he couldn’t move as fast as the rest of them. When Hadrian didn’t stand quickly enough, the Lucian drove a kick into his side. Micah heard something snap just before Hadrian screamed. “Get. Up.”
Hadrian tried to get to his feet, but only made it to his knees before he collapsed again.
“Pathetic,” the Lucian said, spitting at him.
“Lieutenant, I told you that you had to keep control of your men,” Weisman said, resting a hand on the back of Micah’s neck. Micah turned towards him, eyes wide, the muzzle still firmly fastened and his wrists bound behind him. How could this bastard expect him to do anything like this?
Weisman reached over and undid the muzzle, pulling it off of Micah’s face. Micah opened his jaw, trying to soothe the sore muscles. “Well Lieutenant. Go make your man comply.”
Micah walked over to Hadrian, kneeling down next to him.
“Hadrian, please you have to get up,” he said softly.
“I’m sorry sir… my knees are killing me. I can’t move,” Hadrian winced in pain. Micah glanced over at Weisman. He looked bored. Micah knew that boredom meant danger.
“Please Hadrian, please,” he said. “I can help you up. Put your hands on my shoulders. I’ll help support you.” Hadrian grunted before placing his large hands on Micah’s shoulders. Micah awkwardly struggled to his feet with his hands tied behind his back. Hadrian hissed in pain as he stood next to Micah, leaning heavily on him.
“Charming,” Weisman said, arms crossed. “Now he needs to stand on his own.”
“I don’t think I can, sir,” Hadrian whispered in his ear. Micah froze. Oh gods.
“Well, I’m waiting,” Weisman said, a note of anger in his voice. Hadrian let go of Micah’s shoulders. He wobbled for a second before falling back to the ground, legs shaking. Micah’s heart dropped.
“You Torins really are pathetic,” Weisman snarled. Then he grabbed Micah by the shoulder and dragged him to the center of the courtyard. Weisman forced him onto his knees than fisted a hand in his hair, pulling his head back painfully. Micah whimpered.
“I told you that you had to keep your men in line, Lieutenant. Clearly you’re not up for the task.” Weisman pulled a pistol out and pressed it against Micah’s temple. Micah stopped breathing.
“Please sir,” he whispered. “I can do better, I promise.”
“I don’t think you can. You’re useless to me, and I’m not going to waste precious resources keeping you alive. If I kill you though, maybe it’ll send a stronger message. Weisman pulled back the hammer, the soft click seeming to echo through the courtyard.
“I’m going to count down to ten, then I’m going to blow your brains out. Goodbye, Lieutenant.”
Ten
Terror clutched at Micah’s throat he couldn’t breathe gods he couldn’t die yet he didn’t want to die
Nine
What were his siblings going to do without him?
Eight
Maria and Yorick and Otis and Theresa and Georgette. Their faces flashed across his mind. Mich hoped they would forgive him for dying. For leaving them alone.
Seven
Gods, what would happen to his men? They would probably be killed too. Micah had failed them. He was sobbing now, tears running down his face.
Six
Gods gods gods the numbers felt like they were coming faster now.
Five
Guilt stabbed at Micah’s stomach.
Four
I’m sorry Aaron. I’ve failed you.
Three
Micah closed his eyes, his body shaking with sobs.
Two
His heart stopped beating as terror lanced through his entire body. This was the end.
One
Weisman pulled the trigger. But nothing happened. Micah opened his eyes, staring up at the sick smile on his torturer’s face.
“Next time it will be loaded, Lieutenant,” Weisman said with a smirk. He slid the pistol back into his holster.
“Throw them in cell E,” he said, waving a hand at the guards before walking away. Micah couldn’t get to his feet, he was shaking too much. Oh gods oh gods oh gods. Two guards grabbed his upper arms and dragged him to the cell.
They slammed the door shut and Micah slumped to the ground, numb. He was alive. He was alive and a prisoner and his life could be ended on a whim. All he had wanted to do was protect his soldiers, and Weisman was going to use that against him. Micah closed his eyes as he leaned his head back against the cool stone wall. He was well and truly screwed.
“What the hell did you do to him?” Micah asked, panic in his voice. Travis was laying on the floor, his body trembling. Sweat poured down his body and Micah could smell his terror, along with an undercurrent of something bitter. Micah knelt down next to Travis and reached out a hand to feel his forehead. Travis’ skin was cool to the touch despite his sweating. The human’s eyes were closed and his breathing was shaky.
“Travis?” Micah said. Travis didn’t respond.
“Feed,” Weisman said from where he was leaning against the mantle, arms crossed and a smug look on his face. Micah snapped his head up, glaring at Weisman.
“You can’t be fucking serious,” he said. “He’s in no condition for that.” It was true. But also, Micah had a sneaking suspicion that he did not want to ingest whatever was flowing through Travis’ veins right now.
“Bite the damn blood bag, Byrnes,” Weisman said, his voice hard.
Micah knew better than to argue. It never ended well. He swallowed before leaning over Travis’ neck. He bit down, the flesh parting easily under his fangs as he injected some venom, hoping that it would calm the human’s terror. The blood that hit his tongue was so bitter Micah almost gagged. He tried to pull away but then Weisman’s hand was fisted in his hair, holding him down.
“Feed,” he said, and Micah had no choice but to swallow the blood. Travis had stilled, and though he was still sweating, the stench of fear wasn’t as strong. Micah choked down the bile rising in his throat as he drank more of the tainted blood.
“That’s enough,” Weisman said and Micah immediately dislodged his fangs from Travis’ neck, licking the wounds closed even as an uncomfortable warmth started to spread through his body. Micah looked up at Weisman, but his vision was going blurry and he fell to the ground. Micah closed his eyes against the world which was starting to spin around him.
“Fascinating,” Weisman said. Micah just groaned in response as another wave of dizziness hit him.
“W-what did you make me drink?” he asked shakily. He was sweating now and an ache was starting to settle into his muscles.
Weisman crouched down before him, stroking the hair back from where it was sticking against his forehead. His fingers were cold and they made Micah shiver and he tried to pull back. That earned him a slap across the face which made him gasp.
“It’s a little something that our scientists whipped up. A special concoction which renders human blood poisonous to vampires,” Weisman gave Micah a smile as he lifted his chin. “Oh, I wish I could see the look on the Torins’ faces when they wake up to find that their food supply is inedible.”
Micah’s eyes went wide, even as his drugged brain tried to keep up with what Weisman was saying. If the army couldn’t feed… well the war would be over in a matter of weeks.
“No, you can’t,” Micah slurred. This was wrong wrong wrong.
“We already have. Don’t worry, the effects are temporary. You’ll be able to feed from your little blood bag in a couple weeks.”
…
Micah didn’t realize he was crying when he and Travis were thrown back into their cell. The Lucians were going to win the war. They were going to decimate the Torin army, take their humans, burn everything to the ground. And there was nothing Micah could do to stop it.
Arms wrapped around him and Micah looked up to see Dimitri’s face.
“What can I do?” Dimitri asked softly.
“I’ll be fine,” Micah said, even as his head pounded and fire seemed to burn through his veins. “Can you make sure Travis is comfortable?”
Dimitri nodded and moved to wrap the human in a scratchy blanket. Travis was still asleep, periodically whimpering through the poison-induced pain. Micah couldn’t stand the sound. He slammed his hands over his ears and placed his head between his knees as tears poured down his face. He never should have surrendered to these monsters. A hand came to rest on his shoulders and he flinched back. He looked up at Aleksander who had crouched down next to him with a concerned look on his face.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Micah sobbed. “I should never have surrendered. And now we’re stuck in this hell and it’s all my fault, I’m so sorry, I’ve failed you all.”
Aleksander was saying something to him, but Micah couldn’t really hear him. All he could hear was the pounding of his heart, Travis’ whimpers, and yelling outside.
Wait, why were the Lucians yelling? Micah surged to his feet, shakily heading towards the door. He gave a scream of fright when the boom of a musket shattered the air. Then Micah fell to his knees in shock.
Febuwhump 2022 Masterlist / Of Vampires and Men Masterlist
Febuwhump Day 14- Can’t go home
CW: Vampires, slavery, drugging, poison, war, gun mention, death mention, pow rescue, basically a sickfic
It sounded like chaos. Micah could hear someone shouting commands, the boom of muskets, the screams of the dying. Suddenly, silence descended over the fort. Micah didn’t dare to breathe.
Then the jangle of the key in the lock and the door to their cell swung open. Micah almost sobbed when he saw the green of the uniform.
“Y’all look like shit,” the Torin captain said. “How about we get you out of here?”
Micah gasped as a streak of fire flashed through his body. He had to warn them.
“Sir, sir the Lucians, they have poison,” Micah closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness hit him.
“What type of poison?” the captain asked carefully, stepping backwards. Micah gritted his teeth against the pain.
“For the humans. Makes their blood toxic. Hurts like hell if you drink from a poisoned human. They’re going to poison our whole food supply.”
The captain’s eyes went wide.
“Fuck!” the captain yelled, turning and racing back through the corridor. Micah collapsed to the ground, his breathing ragged.
“You’re gonna be okay,” Dimitri said softly, pressing a cool hand against Micah’s forehead.
“Go. All of you. Get out of here,” Micah said. He didn’t want to risk the Lucians regrouping and taking back the fort. He would just slow them down, and Micah just wanted his men to get home. Even if he couldn’t.
“We’re not leaving you and Travis,” Dimitri said. The rest of his men murmured their agreement even as Micah’s stomach twisted with guilt. He didn’t deserve the loyalty of these soldiers.
Then gentle arms were picking him up. Micah was barely holding onto consciousness as the fire flared in his veins.
“We’ll take care of you now,” a voice said, right before he drifted into a dreamless sleep.
…
Travis screamed when a hand touched his arm. He tried to pull away, but he was too weak, his limbs weighed down with what felt like fucking fire.
Voices were talking over him but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. It was like his head was underwater, his vision and hearing dull and blurred. Someone reached behind him and propped him up to a sitting position. Travis sobbed. It hurt, it hurt so much. Then something was being poured into his mouth and he reared back. No no no he couldn’t take anymore of the poison, it was too much, his body couldn’t survive any more pain. Travis tried not to swallow but fingers pinched his nose shut and tilted his head back so he had no choice. The liquid was cool as it went down his throat. Tears tracked down Travis’ cheeks as he waited for the pain to increase, for his very body to burst into flames.
Slowly, his vision began to clear. Someone was holding him against their chest, someone he didn’t recognize. Travis didn’t know if he was imagining it or not, but the fire in his veins didn’t seem like a raging inferno anymore.
“That’s it, deep breaths,” the person said. Travis tried to comply. His breaths were shaky, but he tried his best to take one deep breath after another. “Good job,” the voice said. “How do you feel?”
“Better,” Travis rasped out.
“We were able to find some of the antidote the Lucians stockpiled. I’m not sure how long the poison will continue to linger in your system, but it’s a start.”
“Thank you,” Travis whispered to the vampire holding him as he breathed, enjoying the sensation of smoldering instead of burning pain.
“My name’s Blair, I’m one of the medics with the Torin army. I’ll be taking care of you and Micah until you both have recovered.” Travis just nodded against their chest, his mouth dry.
“Water?” he asked feebly.
A canteen was raised to his lips and Travis drank deeply, the cool liquid soothing his aching throat.
“That’s enough for now,” Blair said and Travis whimpered. He was still so thirsty. “I’ll give you some more in a bit, alright?” they said, and Travis gave a little noise of agreement. Now he was able to take in his surroundings. They were in a sparsely furnished room, two beds set against the walls. Micah was sleeping in one of them, the candlelight flickering off his freckles. Travis was in the other bed, Blair supporting him in a seated position.
“Micah…” Travis said, not knowing what to ask.
“I already gave him the antidote. He should be fine after some rest.”
Travis closed his eyes, thanking the gods that Micah would be okay.
“You should be resting too,” Blair said, carefully moving Travis so he was laying down on the bed. Travis all but melted into the soft mattress. He didn’t know what was waiting for him next, but he was going to enjoy a cozy, warm bed while he could. He didn’t have a home he could go back to anymore, so he was going to take advantage of any mercy the vampires offered him. He didn’t have any other choice.
Febuwhump 2022 Masterlist / Of Vampires and Men Masterlist
Febuwhump 2022 Day 3- Blood Loss
Takes place a little over a month after Micah's platoon is captured
CW: Heavily implied noncon (fade to black before anything explicit), vampires, slavery, blood loss, prisoners of war, starvation, bruises, referenced torture
Travis was dying. He could feel his body weakening a bit more every day. He had been with these vampires for a month now and it showed. His muscles were wasting away and even standing was a challenge. The constant blood loss, the minuscule amount of food the guards gave him. There was no way he would be able to survive much more of this. They had come up with a routine where five vampires would feed from Travis every other day. Even with the days off, his limbs still felt perpetually heavy and his head pounded. He was shivering constantly. Gods, what he wouldn’t give for a blanket.
“How do you feel?” Micah asked softly from where he was seated. Travis closed his eyes, leaning the side of his head against the wall.
“Bad,” he whispered. “Please don’t take more blood today, please.” Travis hated the way the tears caught in his throat. He was too weak to fight them anymore. A few of the vampires had fed earlier and the venom was still settled in his veins, making his movements clumsy. Micah had been with the warden, Weisman. He always came back with bruises and dark red blood streaked across his body. Travis didn’t flinch when Micah sat down beside him and reached out to feel his pulse. The vampire’s fingers were cold on his wrist and Travis shivered. Micah frowned and his brow furrowed.
“It’s okay, we won’t take any more today. Just rest,” Micah murmured. He pulled Travis over so the human’s head was resting in his lap.
“Thank you,” Travis whispered.
“I’m going to try to get you some more food tomorrow, okay?” Micah said as he stroked Travis’ hair back from his forehead. Travis didn’t respond, he felt too weak. He just laid in Micah’s lap and cried himself to sleep.
…
Micah looked down at the sleeping human in his lap, his brow pinched with concern. “I’m worried about him,” he said to Dimitri. “He’s lost so much weight, his pulse is weak, he barely has the energy to move. If he doesn’t get more food soon, he’s going to die. Either from starvation or blood loss or maybe disease.”
“What are you going to do?” Dimitri asked quietly. Micah sighed. He knew what he had to do.
“I’m going to ask Weisman to up his rations. I’ll beg him if I need to. If Travis dies we all die.”
Micah’s stomach twisted at the prospect of asking Weisman for anything. He was convinced that that vampire didn’t have a merciful bone in his cruel, sadistic body.
…
The guards came at the same time each night. Micah followed soundlessly behind them as they led him to Weisman’s study. He had learned the way by now, could count how many steps it took.
Weisman was standing by the fireplace, hands clasped behind his back. This was a game he liked to play, ignoring his prisoner. Micah knelt before Weisman. He didn’t speak, just kept his hands resting in his lap and his eyes downcast. Micah just hoped that Weisman was in a good enough mood to grant Travis more rations.
After what felt like an eternity, Weisman finally turned towards Micah. Micah’s heart started to pound even harder than it already was. Weisman bent down and brushed a hand across Micah’s cheek.
“Look at this lovely bruise from yesterday,” he said softly. “Remember how hard you cried? How you begged me to stop hitting you?”
Micah closed his eyes. He did remember. “Yes sir,” he said, his voice trembling a little. He took a deep breath. It was now or never. “Please sir, our human needs more food. His body is having a hard time replenishing the blood we take.”
Weisman gripped Micah’s chin. “Look at me, Lieutenant.” Micah did as he was told, raising his eyes to meet Weisman’s. “It sounds like you haven’t been taking care of your bloodbag. You need to take less blood. My generosity only extends so far.”
Fear stabbed Micah’s chest. “B-but sir, we’re already taking the bare minimum for survival. I’m afraid that he’ll die soon.”
Weisman looked at him with an evil glint in his eye, squeezing his jaw so hard that Micah was sure that he would leave bruises. “Do you really want to save the sorry excuse for a blood bag?”
“Yes, I do, sir,” Micah replied.
Weisman released Micah’s chin and crossed the room, taking a seat in his overstuffed leather chair.
“Would you do anything to save him?”
“Yes sir,” Micah said. It was true. He didn’t want to see the human in pain. And if Travis died, Micah and the rest of his men would starve to death. He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let that happen.
Weisman spread his legs, moving to the button on his trousers. Micah’s face paled.
“Well then, Lieutenant, come here.”
Micah approached the chair, repressing a shudder as Weisman finished unbuttoning his trousers.
“Let’s see what else that mouth is good for. If you bite me I will kill the blood bag and every single one of your men. If I’m satisfied with your performance, I’ll send extra food for the human. Deal?”
Micah closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn’t have a choice. He opened them and met Weisman’s eyes, trying to ignore the sickening grin on his face.
“Deal,” Micah said, though his voice shook and tears pricked at his eyes. Gods. He was about to get to work when Weisman fisted a hand in his hair and pulled his head back.
“I can’t wait to tell your men what a little slut you are,” he whispered in his ear. Micah wasn’t able to contain his sob.
…
Just before sunrise, a bowl of warm soup was delivered to the cell. It was the first hot food Travis had had in weeks.
Febuwhump 2022 Masterlist / Of Vampires and Men Masterlist
Febuwhump 2022 Day 2- Failed Rescue Attempt
Takes place 3 months after Micah's platoon is captured
CW: War, prisoners of war, prisoner exchange
12.5.4029
Dear General Grosskopf,
As a gesture of goodwill between our countries, we are prepared to conduct a prisoner exchange. Currently, we have two hundred and twenty six Lucian soldiers in custody. According to our records, you are holding seventy eight Torin soldiers as prisoners of war, including:
Squadron 21-2 under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Allan Enright
Platoon 17-4 under the command of Lieutenant Micah Byrnes
Platoon 43-3 under the command of Lieutenant Juddson Rutherford
We are willing to return to you half of your soldiers, numbering one hundred and thirteen, in exchange for the return of all of our men. Our men will not be redeployed, but rather will be honorably discharged and sent home to their families. The remaining soldiers in our custody will be returned at the close of hostilities between our two countries. If these terms are acceptable, we will coordinate a time and place to parley.
Cordially,
General Aldon Von Sleet
12.10.4029
Dear General Von Sleet,
After careful consideration of your terms, we have decided to make a counter offer. We will return thirty nine of your soldiers in exchange for one hundred and thirteen of our soldiers. The men returned to you will include
The entire Squadron 21-2, numbering 33 men, under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Allan Enright
Six men from Platoon 17-4 under the command of Lieutenant Micah Byrnes.
The return of the remainder of your soldiers will be discussed at the end of the current conflict.
Cordially,
General Stephen Grosskopf
12.16.4029
Dear General Grosskopf,
Your terms are acceptable. We propose an exchange on the twentieth fifth day of this month at the town of Woodbridge.
