It must be a great feeling, dressed in an orange prison jumpsuit, facing the wall, waiting for the guard to return with a bunch of chains and shackles to put on you.
*strolling up to a counter* Hii, may I please have a 1,2,7/8,6,1/23/25/13 and 4/9? :D
Whumpee: 1 - Leader (couldn't stop myself, I love leader whump too much haha-)
Caretaker: 2 - Right hand
Whumper: oh, what if it's a combination of 8 - mentor and 7 - villain? :O
Dynamics: 6 - team
Tropes: 1 -self sacrifice, 23 - rescue. 25 - buried alive (maybe even 13 - left for the dead, if it works? :O)
Dialouge: 6 -"I can't walk", 9 - "You're still alive"
Thank you very much for making this and I hope I'm not going too crazy, haha (*>w<) Absolutely feel free to get rid of some parts or add additional ones, and not writing this if the inspiration doesn'tcome is completely oke too. :D I think the most important part is that you enjoy the proccess as much as possible ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-
Have a wonderful day, virtual hugs and a cookie 💕🍪～(´∀｀～)
Hiii! Glad to see you here hehehe. Turned buried alive to stuck in an underground bunker. Enjoy!
Warnings: Knife, starvation, restrains, delirium(?) -> from this ask game <-
Leader was out of breath. They couldn't run anymore. they were cornered. They hated themselves for not seeing the trap. But how one even prepared for this? To be completely understood by the enemy in tactics and mind?
They stopped absurdly, watching the team from behind. Whumper had figured Leader out, so be it. But there was no way they could understand what Leader would do for their team.
Right Hand noticed first. Of course they did. Leader taught them well. Taught them how to lead. How to protect. To see when sacrifice was needed for survival. And at that moment, all Leader could do was smile bitterly.
I'm so sorry for burdening you so early, they mouthed, before locking the metal door through the alarm. Tech had spent ages to disable it from far, but it was so easy from inside. Leader didn't turn back as Whumper's forces got to the room from the remaining entrance.
"I won't let you get them," they stated. Leader wouldn't lose. Because their goal wasn't their own survival. It was to keep their team alive.
"I never wanted them. They were only obstacles between you and me," Whumper chirped. A shiver ran down Leader's spine, and for the first time in their life, they felt afraid for themselves. The team is safe, they tried to assure themselves. They can't truly hurt me.
Slowly, Leader turned back. There were guns pointed at them, all in safe distances. Leader wasn't fast enough to take on these much armed men out. "If I knew you wanted me that bad, I'd bring you flowers. I'm rather bare at the moment."
Whumper laughed. Not the loud, gloating kind Leader had expected. Quieter. Sincere. Like they were sharing a joke only the two of them understood. But Leader didn't. There were only misunderstandings with someone beyond reqsoning.
“You always were funny when you were terrified.”
Leader didn’t flinch. Even as cold sweat traced down their spine, even as their lungs still burned from the run, they kept their stance casual. They wouldn't fall for such bait. They had to save strength.
“I’m not terrified,” Leader simply said. And perhaps it was that simple. Leader wasn't terrified. Leader had insurance. The agency had a whole will to go over if Leader couldn't find a way out of this hell. The team was in good hands.
Whumper stepped closer. The armed soldiers didn’t move—because they didn’t need to. They were just the net. Whumper was the spider.
“No,” Whumper agreed, tilting their head. “Not yet.”
Leader’s jaw tightened.
“It was a good move,” Whumper went on, gesturing lazily to the locked door behind them. “A little dramatic. But you always were the noble one. I wonder—did they even see you do it? Or will they turn around and just… find you gone?”
Leader didn’t answer.
Whumper stepped closer. They were inside striking distance now, and Leader didn’t move. They couldn’t. Not with so many rifles trained on them. Not when Whumper was baiting them into making the first move.
“I know you, you know,” Whumper said, almost softly. “I know what you fear. What you hide. You didn’t just seal that door to protect them. You sealed it because if you saw the look on their faces - if you saw how much it would break them - you’d hesitate.”
Leader’s throat bobbed. “Stop pretending you understand me.”
“But I do.” Whumper smiled, and it didn’t touch their eyes. “You think you're the one who made your team strong? That you've trained them well enough to keep going? Maybe. But they’ll unravel faster than you think without you. And you know it.”
Leader’s fists clenched. “If you want to kill me, just do it.”
“Oh no,” Whumper murmured. “I want you to fight for your own life for once. No noble sacrifices. No plans. Just you and your will to live.”
And then, without warning, something struck Leader across the head—sharp, hard, and fast.
The world tilted. Leader stumbled, a fist flying over their head. And then they fought. They fought and bled and they tried, more and more people lunging at them and it hurt. Yet they kept fighting because they couldn't surrender. It simply wasn't their nature. They fought for what felt like hours, their body slowly breaking and their limbs aching with backlash. At the end, someone must have gotten bored because Leader froze with a knife to their gut.
They fell.
Whumper taunted. Leader didn't - couldn't - listen. And Whumper got bored finally, leaving Leader there to die by themselves. The last thing they heard before the blackness swallowed them whole was a shadow's voice, soft and pleased:
“You're coming with me.”
-•-
Leader didn't expect to open their eyes again, but they were glad to be proven wrong. Being alive was cold. Their wrists burned from strain and metal restraints, their body sluggish.
Wait, metal restrains?
It took Leader's whole strength to stay stay still, not panic. They were left to die. Did Whumper change their mind? They didn't remember.
Calming themselves as best as they can, Leader tried to understand. They were underground. That much they could tell by the dampness in the air, the silence, the faint scent of old stone and rot. There was no sound of life. Just the dull, echoing drip of water from somewhere, a hum of a generator, maybe
Then came the voice.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
“Well,” said the Villain, calm and amused. “Still alive. Just barely.”
Leader opened their eyes. The world swam, but the face hovering above them sharpened slowly into clarity.
Their former mentor.
“You,” Leader hissed, hate rising like bile.
“Me,” Villain agreed, crouching in front of them, brushing dirt from their shoulder with a touch that made Leader want to flinch. “Dragged you out before your end. You should be grateful.”
“You’re working together now?” At least that would explain why Leader was outsmarted.
A short laugh. “Hardly. I just hate letting people waste potential. Especially mine.”
Leader spat at their feet. “I’m not yours. Not anymore.”
Villain’s eyes cooled. “Still stubborn, then. Good. Let’s see how long that lasts.”
Leader didn’t respond. They didn’t need to. Villain already knew. Just like Whumper. Everyone who ever claimed to understand them did the same thing: they underestimated the line Leader wouldn’t cross just because it would hurt their team.
“You’ll betray them eventually,” Villain said, standing. “When it’s just you. When it’s quiet. When your ribs ache and your mouth is dry and your mind starts to go soft with starvation. You’ll see how little your nobility means. Shout when you change your mind.”
Leader didn’t look at them. Didn’t blink.
So Villain sighed and turned to go.
“Oh, and don’t worry,” they added as a ladder was thrown down. “There’s enough air to last you a while. I’m very precise. I want you to feel the moment you regret everything.”
And with that, they heard metal clang and a valve close.
Darkness swallowed Leader whole.
But they didn’t scream. Didn’t cry.
They closed their eyes.
And breathed.
The team was alive.
That was enough. So they didn't try to check concrete walls like coffin. They didn't try the sealed door. The dark didn’t frighten Leader.
At first.
They had trained for worse. Deprivation drills, isolation chambers, and days without food. It was gifts Villain left Leader with when they were still at agency. They had starved for three days straight in the northern frost during winter. This was nothing.
So they waited. They kept count—of breaths, of heartbeats, of the tiny noises the earth made as it settled around them. The drip of the leak. The faint hum of the generator upstairs that faltered once, then resumed. They watched the dark with open eyes, blinking only when their eyes burned. Watched it as though something would change.
It started with the ache. Deep in the belly, then up through the ribs. A hollowing pain, sharp and raw, that quickly became familiar. At first, Leader tracked time through it. Guessed how much must have passed. They’d breathe through it, shift positions, press hands to their abdomen like that could fool the body into thinking something was there. But nothing ever came. And it hurt. Leader only then remembered the knife. Their dirty shirt was soaked— by what, they couldn't tell. They could only hope it was blood and nothing else.
Eventually, the ache turned to nausea. Then numbness. Then fire again. It circled too often, too rarely. They couldn't grasp the time. But Leader didn't scream. That was important. They couldn’t scream or beg. Not because no one would hear them—but because it would mean giving the dark something. It would mean feeding it with fear, letting it grow teeth.
Water came once. Maybe twice. A slosh from a pipe above, dripping into a bowl they hadn’t noticed before. They drank. First, greedily. Then slowly. Then not at all, because their stomach hurt too much. Hunger was sharper than thirst. It crawled up from the gut, gnawed at the spine, the ribs, the base of the skull. It wasn’t pain anymore. Just… pressure. Then dullness. Then nothing.
Hallucinations came after a lifetime.
At first it was voices—Right Hand calling out, confused. Tech arguing, asking for coordinates. Laughter. Gunfire. They saw light that wasn’t there, shapes flickering in the edges of their eyes. Sometimes they heard the door unlock. It never did. They dreamed, too, but there was no difference between dreams and waking and hallucinating. In one moment, they were holding the team together, barking orders. In the next, they were curled on their side on rough stone, cradling a memory that couldn’t keep them warm.
They stopped moving.
It hurt too much. The muscles refused. Bones ached from pressure and cold and stillness. The restraint around their wrist was forgotten, part of their flesh now. Hunger no longer clawed - it purred. A heavy thing curling up in their gut, whispering that it would all be over soon.
Leader didn’t resist it.
There was no fight to win. Only silence.
Sometimes Leader forgot which way was up until their skull hit stone again. They knew they passed out, because they’d wake in new positions, mouth dry, heart skipping beats like it was confused to still be working.
Sometimes, they thought they spoke. Maybe to Villain. Maybe to Whumper. Maybe to the team. They imagined apologizing. Explaining. Sometimes, just whispering names to remember them in order. They forgot their own once. It came back. Slow. Sticky. Like crawling through wet leaves. They didn't hear their own voice.
They laughed once. It sounded like choking.
Then came the smell of rot. They weren't sure if it came from the cell or their own body. Infection, maybe. The cuffs tore their wrists bloody after too many unconscious jerks.
The first time Villain returned, the light burned. A cold, yellow spill through the opened hatch above, and the ladder clattered down like laughter.
“You’re still alive,” Villain observed, devoid of any other emotion.
Leader didn't lift themselves from the floor. Their voice was foreign, low. “That disappoints you?”
“No,” Villain said lightly, crouching beside them, holding out food. “Still loyal?”
Leader didn’t speak. They only smelled their own blood anyway.
Villain smiled with just the edges of their mouth. “Suit yourself.”
Villain pulled back. They left a bruise that time. Fingers curling around Leader’s face with almost parental intent, thumb pressed just a little too hard against their cheekbone, before slapping as if they were still a naughty intern.
The second visit came after hunger stopped being hunger and became quiet. As if Leader’s body had forgotten to want. Muscles didn’t ache anymore. They simply were not. Time passed. Or didn't.
“You’re not even trying,” they noted. “I expected you to try digging. Scratching. Begging.”
Leader scoffed. Their lips cracked when they spoke. “You taught me well.”
That earned them a sharp kick—not hard enough to kill, just enough to remind. Pain had begun to feel like proof of existence. Leader hissed, curling inward. There was blood again.
“Still no change of heart?”
Silence.
Villain stood. “Then I'm done with you.”
Leader heard the door - hatch - again.
“You don’t have to die for them,” Villain said quietly. “They’re probably already replacing you. You know how fast these things move.”
Leader didn't answer.
“I could pull you out,” Villain offered. “Patch you up. Feed you. Clean you. Give you a new life.”
There was only silence after.
-•-
It started as a tremor.
Leader didn’t believe it at first. The infection had made illusions out of smaller things. Phantom footsteps, rescue teams that were only echoes of memory. But this… this vibration was different.
Real.
A scrape above. Then, a clatter. Stone against stone. Something shifted. The sealed lid, too heavy to dream of moving, began to Leak light. The pressure changed. Subtle, but it hit Leader like a gasp of fresh breath.
A second passed. Then another. Then, the lid pushed aside with a strained grunt. Dust fell in sheets. The beam of a flashlight broke into the cell.
Then—
Leader blinked against the white glare, breath stuck on their throat.
Not Villain. Not a hallucination.
It was Right Hand..
Right Hand dropped something—metal clanking against stone. A ladder. The shaft shook as they half-fell down , then knelt beside them. A warm hand brushed gently under Leader’s jaw, lifting their head.
“Leader. Hey. Look at me.” Their voice was rough, breaking. Why were they crying? “I’ve got you. We’ve got you. You're safe now.”
Leader’s eyes rolled back in their head. They forced them open again. Right Hand was still there. Still real.
“Right Hand…” Leader murmured, almost a question, an apology they had to get put of their chest.
“Shhh.” Right Hand cradled them, pushing away the thoughts and cold from Leader.. “You’re going to be okay, Leader. I’ve got you. Just hold on.”
Leader tried to push themselves up, but their body didn’t obey. Their limbs were stiff, like they had forgotten how to move, how to function. They had to get up, wanted to get up. Villain could come back. They would come back and then Right Hand would be defenceless with Leader burdening them.
“I… I can’t… walk,” Leader whispered, not registering the words. Their paranoia was supposed to stay inside. But they couldn't stop themselves. “I can’t…”
They were trembling. Their body was growing heavier with each passing moment, as though gravity itself had decided to weigh them down. They were a wreck and a burden, all the things they didn't want to br.
Right Hand’s hand came to their forehead. Cold. Leader leaned towards the cold. Their thoughts dissolved.
“I know,” Right Hand said softly. “I’m not asking you to walk. I’m carrying you.”
Leader opened their mouth to protest, to tell Right Hand not to risk it, but the words didn't come. They couldn’t make sense of what they wanted to say anymore.
“Hey. Look at me,” Right Hand said, their voice gentle but commanding. “Look at me.”
Leader’s eyes struggled to focus, but there was something in Right Hand’s gaze that grounded them. Thr cold hand left their forehead for a moment, but next their wrists were free. They didn't know - or care - how. Then the handover to their back.
“You’re gonna be alright, I promise,” Right Hand continued, voice steady.
Leader nodded—or maybe twitched. It didn’t matter. Right Hand moved fast, looping one arm under their shoulders and the other under their knees, lifting with a grunt. Leader hissed through their teeth. It felt like tearing open their stomach again.
“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Right Hand muttered. “You’re light as hell. That’s not a compliment.”
Leader wanted to laugh at that, but the sound that came out was closer to a gasp. The pain was distant now, muffled like sound underwater. The world swam as Right Hand cradled them close, navigating the narrow shaft with slow, careful steps. Each jolt sent pain ricocheting through their bones, but they clung to consciousness, focusing on Right Hand’s breathing, the steady rhythm of it. Not a hallucination. Not a dream. Real.
There was shouting above. Muffled. Urgent. Tech’s voice. Sharp, commanding.
“Exit’s not secure—we’ve got three minutes tops!”
“Medical’s ready, just get them up!”
The light widened. Then warmth hit Leader's skin—real warmth. Flashlight? Sunlight? They couldn’t tell, but it was not the dark. Leader sucked in a breath that didn’t taste like mold and rot. Their lungs burned with fresh air. Their vision blurred again, but it wasn’t darkness that swallowed them this time—it was too much light.
They were passed off—hands under their back, people murmuring, equipment beeping. They were floating. No, being carried again. Blankets. Needles. Medic's voice was too close.
“What did they do to you…” Youngest murmured, but Leader couldn’t answer. Their throat was raw, and everything ached. They blinked once. Twice.
Then everything went quiet.
-•-
The next time they woke, it was in a clean cot. The scent of antiseptic hung in the air. Wires ran to their wrist. Tubes. Machines. But no restraints. No stone. No rot.
Right Hand had was asleep sitting upright, a data tablet slipping from their fingers. Their head rested awkwardly against the wall, neck bent too far.
Leader tried to speak, but only managed a croak. Right Hand startled awake anyway.
“We’re fine. All of us. We regrouped. We found you.” Right Hand’s voice cracked on that last word. “Took too damn long, but we did.”
Leader stared at them, struggling to speak. “You saw. At the door. I—”
“I know.” Right Hand leaned in, their voice quieter now. “I know why you did it. We don’t blame you. Just… angry at your crazy stunts.”
Silence settled between them, heavy but not painful. Alive was good. Together was better. And everything was alright if they had the luxury to be angry.
Leader closed their eyes for a moment. “Villain?”
“Gone. Retreated when they realized we were coming. Coward with an attachment complex.” Right Hand paused. “They won’t get near you again.”
Leader turned their head slightly. “Was I gone long?”
Right Hand hesitated. “Eighteen days there. Another week in Medbay”
Leader blinked. That long. That short. It didn’t matter anymore.
“You held on,” Right Hand added, softer now. “No one believed you would’ve made it through that. But you did.”
Leader breathed in. Deep. Shaky. Tried to piece together. But their thoughts slipped.
“I’m sorry,” Leader said finally.
“For what?” Right Hand asked, eyebrows pulling together.
“For putting you in my place,” Leader whispered. “For leaving.”
“You didn’t leave us,” Right Hand said defensively. “You saved us. And now we’ll look after you. That’s how this works. We carry each other.”
content: manhandling, restrains, beating, memory loss, Whumper threatening over said memory loss, well literally trying to beat the memories out of Whumpee, descriptions of injuries, swearing, failed escape
The headache, the stars in their vision, kept Whumpee barely able to see and feel what was happening around them. They seemed to be hanging with their head down, only making the pulsing hammer of pain hit even harder. They could feel an arm holding them in place at their waist, adjusting its grip over their limp body.
Whumpee could try to wriggle out, use their arms to hit whoever was carrying them, but their body felt heavier than ever, and even then, Whumper's strength was unforgiving.
Whumpee was quickly forced to their senses as their body hit the ground, cold, damp concrete struck against their hands and back. A light coming from the ceiling could finally meet their disoriented eyes, seemingly the only light source in the room; warm yellow and orange tones wobbled as Whumper slammed the door behind him, Whumpee's phone in hand.
“What... What are you...?” Whumpee slurred their words.
“Look who's up.” Whumper turned his head to Whumpee, leaning against the concrete wall.
Whumpee's breath quivered, a new wave of fear exploding in their chest. His face, his skin was grey with black veins protruding throughout. Is he-- infected? Despite his deathly appearance, Whumpee already saw his strength, dreading evermore what he would do. And where in the hell was Prisoner? Was she alive? Did Friend get out? Surely not, right? But to stay here...
“Whe-- Where's...” Whumpee swallowed hard, clearing their throat with a grunt. “Where's Prisoner?”
“Not important.” Whumper replied, his tone somewhat annoyed.
“Who...” Whumpee forced their head to look at Whumper properly. “Hey-- hey that's... my phone, what are you--?” And when Whumpee tried to use their hands to reach out, to stand up, to move-- they wouldn't budge.
Taut strings digging into their wrists held their hands in place behind their back, cold, thin and sharp.
“Don't worry about that. Just making sure your friends won't intrude on our... private talk.” Whumper said.
And hearing so, Whumpee's chest sunk even lower, their desperation spilling over their headache. “No! What did you... where...”
Whumper sighed. “That's enough from him.” As he set down Whumpee's phone on the ground.
Whumpee's breath hitched, a shiver from their voice echoed in the small room. They could prolong whatever Whumper brought them in here for no longer.
As Whumper got down to one knee to Whumpee's level, they could get a closer look at his face, a distorted display. His under-eyes were sunked as if he hadn't known sleep, black veins branched out across his cheeks and temples, and his eyes burning with-- impatience? Whumpee felt the urgency in his expression, for whatever was waiting behind it.
“Don't you --”
Whumpee flinched.
“-- recognize me?”
The sound of his voice - so close, and so, so capable of harm. Whumpee tried to calm their breath, their efforts however in vain. Were they supposed to know this person?
“I-I...” Their voice cracked.
“Don't I look familiar to you?” Whumper's voice was now entwined with a hostility measured for Whumpee.
“Whumpee...” he said in a low, warning tone. “You know you recall me. You know who I am, I know it.” He paused to study Whumpee's expression, full of fear and confusion. “Tell me, who am I?”
Whumpee swallowed and tried to stick closer to the wall. They shook their head, but Whumper was persistent.
“You don't know? You don't remember--?”
“I-I- I'm sorry!!” Whumpee blurted out. His stare was crushing. “I don't-- I can't- I don't know who...”
“Oh, Whumpee... don't tell me you've become so... pathetic. What happened?” His tone was mocking and rough, but heavy and threatening. As if forgetting was unacceptable.
“Wuh-- huh...?”
“You barely looked back. Oh, you followed whatever they'd tell you, don't you remember, Whumpee? Or should I say, Horáková?!” Whumper spat their name like a slur.
Whumpee shook at the mention of that name, their name. They think so, at least. They haven't heard it in so long. What Whumper was saying, it couldn't be, right? Whumpee was a medic, they saved lives. So why-- that name, feels so painful?
Then Whumper grabbed Whumpee's hoodie. And Whumpee froze, an icy feeling spreading through their chest, while their head and face burned. Whumper's eyes focused on Whumpee, barely blinking, just wide enough to study Whumpee's expression. Confusion, fear, desperation, and... honesty? No, it wasn't possible.
Whumper's jaw clenched, then the corners of his lips strained into a smile, showing, breathing through his teeth. It looked uncanny, corrupted. Infected.
Whumper pulled Whumpee up, along the wall to stand on their feet.
Whumpee's head leaned back, as if trying to get the as far away from Whumper as they could.
“Then let me-- remind you.”
Whumpee's voice shivered. Their eyes shut and their jaw clenched. Bracing for impact.
And impact did come.
Whumper's fist struck Whumpee's jaw. They could manage to keep their response a grunt. Their hands tried to protect them from the blow, but failed to their restraints.
Whumper seemed to growl almost. As he struck again, this time it was the nose. The sound of cartilage breaking, blood flowing - Whumpee could hear it in their skull. They sniffled, and spat out the blood they almost choked. Their pained groans following after.
“I don't-- I don't know-- Plea... stop--”
Whumper refused to hear it. But as he was about to deliver the next blow, he stopped, and swore out loud.
“This FUCKING guy--” He took a breath. “When I deal with him you're done for.”
Picking up Whumpee's phone at the end of the room, he began to frantically type, finally responding to the ever-coming notifications, pacing around the room.
Whumpee took this time to clear their throat, and move their hands to their front. Huh? The material binding their wrists seemed to be some type of string, or wire. They began to shakily wriggle their hands, trying to get out, as they kept on spitting out the blood making its way into their mouth, and dripping onto their wrists.
As Whumper tossed Whumpee's phone aside, Whumpee shuddered and looked up - promptly coughing out more blood.
“Now,” he turned to Whumpee as he started walking closer. “Tell me you don't recognize who I am. I dare you.”
Whumpee's mind spun in circles, this person, the name, there had to be a connection, somewhere, in the past. Before all of this, before... They stared up at the daunting figure, warm light now seeming like an exposing fire. His words rang in their head, over and over, desperately searching for any clue.
“Come on. Don't make me beat it out of you, Whumpee.”
“Luhgrh-- Look, I- I don't... I'm sorry oka--” What followed was a rough wail.
Whumper grabbed their hoodie again, pulling them closer, his breath somehow cold against Whumpee's blood-covered skin. “I saw it, Whumpee. Don't play dumb with me.”
And as his eyes kept looking for any hesitation, any indicator, there it finally was. Whumpee's face dropped, they lowered their head as blood kept dripping, as they kept coughing. Metallic, slick taste sticking to their tongue.
“There it is... Tell me, Whumpee... who's life did you destroy back then?”
Whumpee's breath quickened, their knees became weaker, their whole body flushing with a strange, cold memory. From before. From when...
“Wuuh--” Their voice cracked. “Whumper--”
Then a kick in the stomach. Hard and sharp. A cry. Whumpee held their bound wrists and tried to wipe the blood from their face, recovering with pained grunts inbetween coughs.
“That's it.” Whumper took a breath, his own breathing becoming fast. “Now tell me. What. You Did.”
Only barely cohesive, flashing images appeared in Whumpee's mind. Dark rooms, white lightning.
“I don't-” Whumpee wheezed.
Whumpee's hands reacted fasted than their mind could register Whumper trying to grab them by the throat. Even bound, raising them to shield their face was unnaturally quick.
And Whumpee took advantage of that fraction of time when Whumper was caught off guard. They pushed agaisnt him. Ran for the door.
But Whumper was faster.
Knocking Whumpee to the ground. Their forehead hitting the damp ground while Whumper drove his elbow in their back.
Leader stared ahead. They didn't spare a glance at their ankles throbbing as if they were still broken, their wrists aching. They could practically feel the knife once was between their shoulder blades, deep enough to puncture one of their lungs.
But Leader didn't react to the pain at all. It was all they had felt until a month ago— for almost a year. It was familiar, comforting, even. To have a reminder that they had been beaten, but not broken.
"We can rough them up a bit," Right Hand suggested, touching to their healed arm lightly. It still hurt— the mere sight of Whumper was enough to resurface the pain that was supposed to be gone, but clinging to Leader's skin.
It all looked to a word from their mouth. Whunper was just there, yet to wake up, tied up and thrown to a corner like a bag. Defenseless. Leader could just wrap their hands around their throat and—
"There's no need," Leader all but ordered, not breaking the blank expression. They didn't know how they sustained their image, but at least their flat look would stop possible protests. "They will pay for what they did to everyone."
"Then let me have the watch at least. You haven't moved since we came back," Right Hand tried again.
"I'm alright," Leader assured. They were alright. They could act like they were alright, at least. And that was more than enough.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Anything I should know before you go?" Leader shifted their stance, taking some weight off of their almost healed ankle.
"No sir."
"Good." Leader nodded, bothered by the formality. Right Hand began walking out, and Leader called them before they could stop themselves. "Right Hand?"
"Hm?" Right Hand's head snapped at them.
"Don't worry," Leader tried again. They had already burdened the team with their absence. They didn't want to cause more trouble.
"Hard not to," Right Hand muttered.
"I know."
"I won't let you be around when they wake up, though," Right Hand insisted.
Leader gave a small smile. "I give the orders here," they reminded.
"No. Not this time. Last time you insisted on something—"
"It was for the best," Leader cut through the sentence. The other option would end with slaughter of their team.
"No—"
"Right Hand," Leader warned, a little too sharp. They took a deep breath, fixing their tone. "The reason of our argument is now incapacitated. I see no reason for me to leave."
"When will you stop acting as if nothing happened?"
"I'm not ignoring what happened. But truly, Right Hand, I'm alright. Past is past."
Telling was easy, after all. Leader could lie in their sleep. They weren’t proud about that, but it was useful. And it was a lie they told themselves constantly. They would fake it until they made it.
"But its not for me!" Right Hand yelled. The tone made both of them flinch, but it was all Leader needed to pull Right Hand into their embrace. Gently, they wrapped their aching arms around the younger officer. Right Hand grabbed Leader's shirt tightly from behind, tense.
"Its not, and you acting as if you were always here is eating me alive. I… I'm afraid. I don't want you and Whumper in the same city, let alone the same room." Right Hand mumbled, burying their head to Leader's neck and clinging to their shirt. "I can't— we can't lose you again."
"I'm not going anywhere." Leader patted Right Hand's back, pulling away only a little after Right Hand loosened their grip.
"Don't. Ever." Right Hand stepped back fully, schooling their voice back to neutral just because Whumper began to stir.
Right Hand grabbed Leader's wrist to pull them back, but Leader didn’t budge. Instead, they shook Whumper with their shoe, trying to get them coherent faster.
"Rise and shine, darling. I brought you to your hell."
"Don't tell me they fixed you," Whumper whined, sitting up straighter. They looked sore.
Good.
"Bold of you to assume your pathetic attempts made a dent on me,"Leader retorted.
"You break my heart," Whumper pouted. They wiggled in their place a little. "At least your mercy is still here. These binds are too lose."
They were not, Leader reminded themselves. Leader checked it far too often to doubt just because Whumper made a comment.
"When will the vehicle arrive?" Leader asked, ignoring Whumper trying again.
"Almost there," Right Hand said after checking their phone.
"And you'll just let me go, dear? I thought you loved me when I was crushing your bones. A special experience and all. Sentimental people like you would appreciate quality bonding time more."
"Shut it. Adults are talking," Right Hand snarled back before Leader could open their mouth. "Leader, we still have time for it. I can't stand them."
"We gotta be an example. And I want full prize, their corpse cuts the bounty in half," Leader returned, voice neutral. They were surprisingly alright with Right Hand's suggestions, they admitted to themselves reluctantly, but it wouldn't satisfy Leader.
Nothing could calm down the rage Leader had locked deep into their mind.
"Technically, they can fall from the elevator shaft and elevator can fall on them. In best case scenerio, we'll have to call for cleanup."
"See, this is the hospitality you kept gloating about, dear Leader. You can't even pull your weight. You should try my discipline methods."
Leader didn't wince at the remark. Their hand, hidden behind their body, however, clenched into a fist hard enough to hurt. The suggestion made them feel dirty for no reason. Leader wasn't a monster.
Or well, they weren't a monster like Whumper.
Because Leader knew what they could do. Leader still remembered the first time Whumper released their underlings into their cell. They remembered the second, the third. They remembered the bloodshed just by their hands. They remembered the raw rage shutting down their thoughts.
They remembered the corpses
"Its always sad to see people assume fear is a good teacher," Leader mused instead, dismissing the thoughts. The safehouse's door cracked open behind them. There were still two doors between, but Leader could practically feel people closing. They stepped aside, turning their face to the door as if it was a potential treat. Of course they knew it was not but still… survival instincts were hard to get rid of.
Leader let the rest on Right Hand. They offered their opinion only when asked as the authorities dragged Whumper away.
-•-
At that night, for the first time in a long time, Leader went to sleep feeling safe. Until Right Hand basically broke into their room, telling that Whumper escaped.
