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crash-bump-bring-the-whump · 25 days

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Whumpril 2024 - Day 1 - Limp

Hehehe I've threatened this idea before c:<

TWs: Drugging, collapse, poisoning

"I thought I said I didn't need a smoothie?" Mariano grinned despite his questioning protest as Dimitri slid into his passenger seat. He held two cups, one a brilliant pink and the other a rich purple, and didn't hesitate to shove the purple one towards Mariano.

"Don't think about it, stupid, it was free. They fucked up the previous person's order and the guy threw a fit and left." Dimitri said, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of his own. "The barista stormed out and everything too, the person who made mine had to stop their shit to take over. So they offered it to me."

"Oh?" Mariano took a sip from his before setting it in his cup holder so that he could drive. "Guess we were lucky, you got a show and I got a surprise blueberry smoothie."

"And Rat got a free pup cup, too, so both of my favorite dogs got something." Dimitri laughed as Mariano swatted at his shoulder, settling his little hairless dog's carrier onto the floor board. "C'mon, stop pouting and drive, Laredo's wanting me to join him on his stream in half an hour."

Mariano laughed, putting his car into gear. "Alright, alright. Roll down your window, too. I haven't gotten around to recharging my AC yet and she doesn't need to cook."

The drive was quick, just a ten minute jaunt back to the house that the other war mages shared on the edge of town. Dimitri waved to Mariano as he sat down on the couch with his laptop and smoothie, smiling as Mariano settled in to start going through manager applications for the coffee shop. It was about time--the circles under his eyes were getting to be too permanent for Dimitri’s liking. "Text if you need anything, I'll have my notifications on."

Mariano waved in return, giving him a quick smile as he took another long drink. Dimitri slipped into Laredo’s room, donning the pair of headphones with a unicorn horn and horse ears–Laredo was fiercely insistent that he always got the cat ear headphones. It was “part of his brand.”

Dimitri just thought he looked cute in them.

They were half an hour into “two people control one character in Bornsouls 2” when Dimitri’s phone lit up with a message from Mariano.

soemthing is worng dimirti

Dimitri froze up, frowning as he looked down. “I…am going to check on our boyfriend.” Dimitri stood, snatching his phone up and setting the headphones down on their stand. He had just gotten his fingers around the doorknob when it sounded like someone dropped one of Laredo’s weights in the hallway.

When he ripped open the door, ice filled his veins. Mariano was sprawled on the floor of the hallway, facedown on the carpet and looking like he hadn’t even tried to catch himself. In an instant, Dimitri was on the stairway of the infiltration drill building, with the dawning realization that he’d poisoned the new kid far, far past what he’d intended.

There was no Manuel this time, though, no Izan. They were both at work. There was no medical backup to call for. No one would be there in forty-five seconds. “Laredo!” He shouted, urgency pulling his voice tight as he sprinted to Mariano’s side and pulled him into his arms.

Mariano was completely limp as Dimitri manhandled him and pressed his ear to Mariano’s chest. He could feel him breathing, shallow and too-quick. He could hear his heartbeat, just as fast. His expression was entirely neutral, with an awful paleness starting to creep into his lips and cheeks. “Call emergency services! He’s breathing but he’s not waking up.”

“I am!” Laredo shouted back, appearing in the doorway with his phone pressed to his ear. “Yes–yes, that’s our address. My boyfriend just collapsed–yes. He is, and we know first aid. Okay, you–ten minutes?”

Dimitri growled as he shifted Mariano in his arms again, moving Mariano’s head to rest on his shoulder. He could smell the blueberries on his breath. Was this what Manuel experienced back then? It made his stomach churn. “Ten fucking minutes? They’d better be speeding or–”

“They’re going as fast as they can, Dimitri–yeah, no, no, it wasn’t a fight, we were playing a video game and heard him hit the floor. Dimitri’s just worried–the…the victim’s name is Mariano. Yeah, I’m Laredo. Dimitri’s the one keeping an eye on him. No, he didn’t choke, we don’t know what happened, he was okay earlier.”

Dimitri remembered something, then. The barista, the one who made the drink, the one who’d stormed off; he hadn’t ever seen them before. He always went to this smoothie place. The employees all knew him. They all liked him.

That new barista had added a packet of something into the smoothie. He hadn’t heard the man’s order. He’d just assumed it was some artificial sweetener, or other flavoring.

“The smoothie was poisoned.” Dimitri blurted out.

Laredo froze, cutting himself off. “The what?”

Dimitri repeated himself, more urgently. “Someone didn’t want their smoothie so we got it for free–Laredo, this sounds insane, but I think the smoothie was poisoned. It was a powder. The cup–it should still be on the side table!”

“Oh–yes, yeah, we think our boyfriend’s drink might’ve been tampered with. No, no allergies, no fainting conditions. Yes, we still have the cup, it hasn’t been washed out.”

A low groan from Mariano made everything else fall away. Dark eyes fluttered, pact rings just barely peeking out beneath his lashes. “‘Mitri…?” He managed, barely past a whisper. “It's hard to breathe…”

“Don’t talk right now.” Dimitri said, cradling Mariano’s face with one hand and shifting him in his arms again. “You’ve been poisoned, help is coming.”

“Y’sir.”

Dimitri felt heat roaring behind his eyes. “Eyes on me.” He could see Mariano struggling to listen, how his lashes fluttered with the effort. Dimitri’s mouth opened again before he could stop it. “I swear Mariano, I didn’t–”

Mariano smiled, his usual faint flicker of an expression. “I know.” He whispered back, turning his face to nuzzle into Dimitri’s palm. “Y’wouldn’t.”

Dimitri sobbed, clutching Mariano close as tears started to fall. They rolled down his face and into Mariano’s hair. Laredo’s voice disappeared as Mariano reached up to hold Dimitri’s hand in return. Only the approaching sirens broke through the rushing chaos in Dimitri’s head.

All that mattered was that help was on the way, Mariano was awake, holding onto him, and that he still trusted him.

@honeybees-125 @inscrutable-shadow @whumperofworlds @bxtterflystxtches

#whump #Whumpril2024 #whumprilday1 #Limp #day 1 #Drugging whump #Collapse #Dimitri #Laredo #Mage of violence #Modern au #Poisoning whump

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shywhumpauthor · 6 months

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Surveillance Chapter 14

Get Away

Masterlist // prev.

Starts whenever Noah wakes up from All Alone (chap. 13)

Cw: noncon nudity (partly implied, non-specific, nonsexual), restraints, noncon drugging, build up to noncon surgery, mentions of death, noncon touching (nonsexual)

Noah came to slowly. His mind weighed with a heavy fog, it took him a while to open his eyes, and even longer to begin to gain his bearings. When he did, all he was met with was a dull, resounding ache that throbbed through every muscle, every bone, just painful enough to persuade him from moving.

He blinked heavily, willing the fog to clear from his vision, trying to make sense of his situation.

He laid on his stomach on something hard. An unrelenting surface, once cold but warmed by his body heat—he could tell as he twitched his fingers, feeling them touch something cool. Metal, he was able to discern in only a few moments. The stiffness of each joint suggested he’d been there for a long while.

After an attempt to turn to his side, he realized that he was restrained, tied to the table with a limb tethered to each corner by long buckles of stiff leather. The table was taller than he was, but not enough so that his arms could be stretched fully out in front of him and still on the metal, so they were splayed awkwardly at the elbows, makeshift cords digging into his elbows, connecting them to a hook on either side of the table in line with his chest, forcing his arms bent so the cuffs on his wrists would reach right, the two working together to balance his arms in an unyielding limbo where he could move them neither up nor down. In one of his arms, he noticed, blinking heavily, some sort of IV line was taped in place, a long and thin tube connecting that to some hanging fluids from a post to his right.

His legs were spread slightly, similar cuffs fastened around his ankles, connecting them to the bottom corners of the table. A strap that crossed the width of the table was pulled across the back of his thighs, about even between his knees and lower back. A similar one passed below his shoulders, tugged tight over his arms as well, keeping him pressed against the table. Tight enough to force some pressure to his chest, now that he was aware and thinking about it, breathing deeper than he had while asleep.

There was some sort of sheet, thin and stiff, draped up to his shoulders, allowing him a bit of decency. He could tell he didn’t have a shirt on, the way his chest felt against the metal with every slight shift.

Noah tried to reach back into his memory, to string together some possible string of events that led from when he was last aware—left alone for hours in the small, bare room, chained to the floor until Declan had entered, told him that everything and everyone he had cared about was about to be destroyed and bombed, then drugged him. Then he was here.

His stomach cramped uncomfortably, and he couldn’t tell whether it was from the pressure of his position pushing down on his abdomen or hunger. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had a full meal, even before the drugging.

He dragged his gaze up, willing his vision to focus across the room. It was a medium sized room, slightly raised ceilings illuminated with industrially fastened lighting beams. From the way his head was turned, he could just see out of the corner of his eye some sort of fixture protruding down, bright light shining down from one of the adjustable lamp heads.

The walls and floor were made of the same tiles, clean and dull. The walls were flanked with various cabinets and counters, a large screen mounted to the center of one, but it was turned off. A vent in the ceiling kept cold air pouring through the room, proving the sheet to be of little function as goosebumps raised all along Noah’s arms.

There were a few machines stationed around him, that he could see. A heart monitor, turned to silent but the screen still depicting every spike with his heartbeat, his oxygen levels, and whatever else. The IV pole, which he had noted before, regulating a steady drip of fluids to the line in his arm. With his increasing consciousness, he could only assume it was something to counter whatever drugs he had been put under. Other than that, he was alone in the room.

At least he had thought so. There was still a good portion behind him that he couldn’t see, unable to turn his head from the side of the room he was facing due to the manner which he was restrained.

He startled when he felt a hand on his back, a firm pressure right against the center. His throat felt raw, too dry to force any sound so that what might have been a scream came out only as a rasp of breath. That drew a chuckle from behind him.

“Oh my friend, it’s about time you woke up. You don’t have any idea how long I’ve been waiting.”

Noah could hear Declan’s grin, the way his words curled with his accent and fell low, menacing even without the intent. The hand on his back rested there for a few seconds, a firm pressure just under his shoulder blades before Declan pulled back.

“I wanted you to be conscious for this,” was all he said, before the sheet was pulled down to Noah’s hips, exposing his entire back to the cold air. A chill jolted up his spine, though he hadn’t felt like the thin covering protected him from anything, in its absence he could certainly feel a difference.

Noah didn’t try to speak. He didn’t bother to worry about what would happen—all he knew was that it would hurt, but that was the usual. He willed the worries that flooded his mind to go quiet. Fear would help him none. His eyes ached to fall shut, but that was the one urge he did not succumb to. He was vulnerable, but he didn’t need to give the single power he had away. He could prepare, at least somewhat.

Helpless. Painfully, pathetically helpless, but there was nothing he could do. Any sort of relief to unconsciousness had abandoned him, he was certain the drugs steadily flooding his system would assure he wouldn’t return anytime soon.

Someone dressed in dark blue scrubs passed in front of him, with them tugging along a rolling tray, setting that up only a foot or so away from the table. It was raised to about the same height as the table he was restrained to, and with a sickening feeling Noah pieced together what was happening.

The scalpels made that glaringly obvious.

Declan walked around to enter Noah’s line of sight, and it was just then that he realized how high off the ground the table was. It wasn’t really an important detail, just strange as he found his head nearly level with the man’s ribs. He was dressed in his usual, formal attire, a pressed shirt tucked into dark dress pants with his typical fitted suit jacket, cuffed neatly at the wrists and completed with a sleek tie. His hair neat, looking like he had just come from a meeting. He probably had.

He wore gloves, sleek white latex. Something small pinched carefully between his thumb, index, and middle finger. He held it out, close to Noah’s face. It took his vision a moment to focus.

“Do you know what this is, Noah?” Declan asked, twisting the piece between his fingers. Noah knew it was more of a taunt than a question. Preying on his vulnerability, another straw of insecurity to the ever-growing stack of not knowing. He knew Declan’s tactics by now.

It was metal, no bigger than a thumbnail. At first he thought it was round, but when Declan moved it a little closer he could see it was an odd shape, rounded edges into some sort of a rectangle. It was a dynamic piece, not flat but not evenly filled. There was a shallowly raised portion, with a small blue piece in the center. With the lighting, Noah couldn’t quite tell, but he could’ve sworn it was blinking, pulsing blue, ever so slightly.

Declan pulled it back after another moment, accepting his silence as enough of an answer. He carefully set the piece on the tray, his fingers dancing as he picked up one of the scalpels.

Something in Noah’s stomach twisted as Declan moved to the side of the table, his heart nearly stopping cold when he felt the tip of the blade press against the top of his spine. The disorientation from the drug clearing more by the second, it only took him a moment to understand.

“Let’s just say, my friend, that you will not be getting away from me anytime soon.”

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Tag list: @pickleking8 @blood-enthusiast @t0rture-me @sparrowsage @enigmawritesstuff @whump-me (thanks for inspiring me to write the last few paragraphs and post this)

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #its me coal #coal wrote something #whumpee #whumper #surveillance series #tag for noah #noah and declan #whump series #surgery whump #medical whump #drugging whump #torture whump

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justbreakonme · 6 months

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Household items for your Whumper to use:

-Whumpee has ten fingernails, and Whumper has ten questions and a pair of pliers.

-Many household cleaners can be used to make highly corrosive or poisonous concoctions, and Whumpee is about to find out exactly how that works.

-Whumper always said that beauty was pain, and, with their curling iron in hand, Whumpee was about to find out exactly how accurate that was.

-Whumper takes a trip to the pet store, and finds the perfect thing to keep a mouthy Whumpee under control. A shock collar, that’s set of by the vibration of Whumpees vocal cords. Hopefully Whumpee doesn’t have a cough, and that they can keep quiet when it goes off.

-kitchen knives. Enough said.

-stove burner. Also enough said.

-zip ties make excellent restraints and are much less bulky and suspicious looking than rope or handcuffs.

-many medications can be used improperly, especially to put someone to sleep, and if the whumper really wants to do some heavy duty damage, well… if they have no moral qualms about what they would do to the whumpee, what’s to stop them from getting prescription or illegal stuff too?

#tw torture #tw burns #tw abuse #whump #whumpee #household objects as weapons #burns #drugging whump

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redd956 · 2 years

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More Hospital/Medical Whump Prompts

Had to get more shots and I'll have to get my blood drawn again 😢 😭

Someone kill me/j

CW: Needles, Drugs

A Whumpee scared of the hospital feels betrayed after Caretaker needed to take them there on desperate measures. Now Whumpee won’t speak or even in Caretaker’s direction

Whumpee thought they were secure in the hospital. Doctors would come in and out of there room. One of the doctors pauses before Whumpee, with smiling eyes. They pull their face mask down to reveal they are Whumper.

Whumper was a medical personnel. Whumpee refuses to believe that they cannot possibly be amongst the cast of any hospital.

Caretaker runs an incredibly shabby makeshift clinic (possibly for magic creatures, escaped pet whumpees, people frowned upon by Caretaker’s society) Today they meet one worse than the others, they meet Whumpee.

A panicked violent Whumpee slowing losing the fighting spirit in them, becoming calmer and calmer, until their eyelids flitter close. Caretaker/Whumpee sighs of relief, as the drag the needle out of Whumpee’s skin.

A whumpee afraid of needles/being drugged watching an IV’s contents enter their body, growing frightful with each passing moment.

Again the escape artist, but this time Whumper and Caretaker are both doctors/in charge of Whumpee’s health.

A panicked escape artist turns out to be the local Villain, confessing underneath the influence of medicinal drugs.

Whumpee makes a friendly alliance with another hospitalized Whumpee

#whump #whump prompts #whump prompt #medical whump #hospital whump #iatraphobia #cw: needles #cw: drugs #drug whump #villain whump #caretaker #whumper #whumpee #doctor whumper #doctor whump #drugging whump #needle whump

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a-crumb-of-whump · 1 year

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Content: [Mentioned] drugging, [mentioned/implied] captivity, recovery.

Caretaker jokes about "taking a chill pill" one day when Whumpee gets worked up over something, and the last thing they expect as a response is for Whumpee to get down on their knees and beg them not to drug them.

After what feels like forever of trying to calm them down, Whumpee discloses that it was a phrase Whumper would often use whenever they had plans to sedate them for whatever reason.

#whump #whump stuff #whump things #whump prompts #whump scenarios #whump thoughts #whump concept #whumpee #caretaker #whumper #drugging whump #whumpy thoughts

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inky-the-artist · 1 year

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cw: stoic whumpee, drugging

a stoic whumpee getting drugged (either by a whumper on purpose or a caretaker with painkillers, sleeping medicine, etc) and becoming not so stoic under the influence

their team/caretaker being absolutely terrified because they've never seen whumpee so vulnerable, they've never even seen them cry before, and now they're full on sobbing and screaming right in front of them

#whump #drugging whump #whumpee #stoic whumpee #caretaker #whump prompt #writing prompt #whump trope #whump inspiration #inky's occasional writing

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slippedtheknot · 4 months

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Whumpmas: Day "Five"

Christmas tree + drugging + flashbacks

"Oh Whuuumpee!" Caretaker walked into Whumpee's room with grocery bags hanging off her arms. "Are you ready to decorate the Christmas tree??"

"Yes!" Whumpee slammed his book closed and shot up from his seat. After hearing stories about Christmas trees and seeing pictures, Whumpee was ready.

"So," Caretaker smacked her hands together and turned to Whumpee once they were in the living room. "I've already put it up, cause that's the boring part, but so is lights, so you can tell me which colors to put on and I'll do it. I've prepared some hot chocolate, and we'll drink some while we decorate the tree."

"Oh, ma'am, you don't have to do that. I can put lights up." Whumpee pushed his sweater sleeves up to prepare.

"No no...it's fine. I want you to have fun today, and the lights, garland, star, and skirt on the tree isn't really fun. Well, maybe the star, but everything else is boring." Caretaker put her bags down next to her red and green Christmas decor boxes. She popped open one lid, and held up colored and yellow lights. "Which one?"

"Um...yellow?"

Caretaker strung the lights to the top, and reached into the box to find some garland. "Beads or fluffy garland?"

Whumpee reached out a hand to feel the tassels, and then felt the wooden garland. "Is the fluffy garland okay?"

"Yes it will look wonderful!" She was done with the garland; looking deep into the box.

"Feel like I'm forgetting something...." Caretaker muttered. "Oh! The hot coco!"

Whumpee stared into his cup once brought to him. Did Whumper use hot coco to drug him? Whumpee remembers the drink being hot...Was it around Christmas too? Caretaker would never do that to Whumpee, but then again Whumper seemed pretty innocent at the time too.

"Whumpee?" Caretaker's broke through his running thoughts. "Are you alright?"

"No," Whumpee softly whispered.

#caretaker #whumpee #whump things #whump community #whump writing #whump blog #whump stuff #whump prompt #recovery #merry whumpmas #whumpmas day five #Christmas tree whump #drugging whump #flashback whump

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whump-or-whatever · 1 year

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You know what I love? Those made up magical drug concoctions that somehow manage to cause a hundred different symptoms in an exact sequence which occur at specific times down to the second regardless of who they’re used on.

Honestly, screw believability. The people who wrote those things into shows and movies were whumpers at heart. They can cause whatever sort of ailment you want, when you want, on the timeline you want. What more could you ask for?

#whump #we should use these magical whumping drugs more often yall #whump tropes #whump prompt #whump idea #whump scenario #whump community #whump prompts #drugging whump #drug whump

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crash-bump-bring-the-whump · 3 days

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Whumpril 2024 - Day 23 - Presumed Dead

I'm shameless and I'm not going to apologize for it. Miguel is @whumpr's as always!!

TWs: assumed death, blood, referenced suicidal ideation, grief, kidnapping, drugging/fantasy drug overdose resulting in coma

"Brat!" Dimitri's voice rang out in the tiny room, tight and horrified. "Bastian! Bastian, he's over here!"

Mariano lay sprawled on the floor, bruised, skin almost grey in the light of Dimitri's flashlight. He wasn't even restrained. There was almost too much blood to seem real.

Dimitri sprinted forward, gathering him up in his arms. "No--no, Mariano open your eyes." He pressed his fingers to a too-limp wrist, gripping Mariano tighter when he couldn't feel anything.

He wasn't making any move to wake up. There was no flutter of lashes, no little pathetic noise of him clawing his way to consciousness. There was nothing.

Bastian caught himself on the doorway, breathless from his run down the hallway. Distantly, Dimitri could hear the others fighting the people who'd taken Mariano days ago. The huge dragon fell to his knees beside Dimitri. "Dimitri--hey, he...Dimitri?"

When Dimitri looked up, his gaze met terrified silver eyes. Bastian's hands hovered near Mariano, like he was afraid to touch him. "They drugged him, right?" Bastian asked, voice shaking just so. "I can't feel him."

Dimitri swallowed hard. "I..." He didn't want to say it out loud. He didn't want to tell Bastian, to be the one to break the news to him about what had happened. About how this was the last place Mariano saw. About how he bled out in pain, in a little grey room, alone with people who wanted to hurt him.

Mariano hadn't wanted to die like that in a long time.

"They gave him pact dampeners, right?" Bastian pushed, his hand coming to rest on Mariano's chest. Mariano's head fell backwards over Dimitri's arm when he was shifted again, and he made no move to raise it to a more comfortable position. "That's what's going on, right?

"Right?"

"Bastian, I--" Dimitri started, voice failing. He tried again. "Mariano is--"

Something caught his eye. The glimmering scales on the back of Bastian's hand sparkled as they slowly, so slowly moved in the light. But he wasn't shaking. And neither was Bastian. Readjusting his fingers, Dimitri felt the smallest, fluttery heartbeat at Mariano's wrist. He laughed in disbelief. "I think so. Go get Manuel, he'll be able to tell."

Bastian didn't question it as he scrabbled to his feet, already out the door before he was even properly upright.

Dimitri held Mariano closer, pressing his lips to Mariano's forehead. "You fucking cockroach--" He laughed. Mariano didn't respond, but as Dimitri moved two fingers to press to his neck, he felt another blessed heartbeat. "Scaring us like that, you'd better be glad it was me and not Miguel. Just hold on, we'll get you home soon."

@whump-captain @whumpr @whumperofworlds @lektricwhump @cyberwhumper @bxtterflystxtches @inscrutable-shadow @honeybees-125

#whumpril2024 #whumprilday23 #day 23 #presumed dead #drugging whump #blood #grief whump #dimitri #mage of violence #dragon of diamond #mmm I'm not SUPER happy with this but this challenge is a game of fighting against perfection #so here we go!#Suicidal ideation referenced also #It's real quick though and in the past tense #Kidnapping also

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avvail-whumps · 2 years

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‘guns for hire’ — behind the mask #1

masterlist · next

synopsis — leo’s life is turned upside down when he sees his boss getting murdered. what’s worse, was that he witnessed the mercenary behind the hit taking off his mask, and saw his face. leo promises not to go to the police with his identity, but the mercenary decides it’s not worth letting him go.

content warnings: minor character death, murder, use of guns, blood, failed escape attempt, manhandling, non-con drugging, slightly intimate whumper

Leo was tired.

Exhaustion lay upon his skin like a disease, weighing the dark circles under his eyes.

It wasn’t unusual for his boss, the CEO of the company, to stay late like this. It also wasn’t unusual that Leo, his secretary, was also forced to stay late alongside him, to do the occasional coffee run and complete any new work he deemed necessary. He knew his boss, Jacob Williams, was capable of surviving the night without him, but insisted on Leo staying too.

A quiet, involuntary sigh slipped past his lips, jabbing the buttons on the coffee machine lazily. It whirred, a steaming black liquid filling the cup.

It was almost three in the morning, and Leo was dying to go home. It was still the weekday, and that meant a bright and early start the next morning. It wasn’t easy to replace a secretary for the day, and his boss was a strict man.

Too strict, and maybe a little cruel, but despite his small frame and height, Leo was a lot studier than he looked.

Wedging the plastic lid on top of the cup, the blond haired man was satisfied with the finished product, swiveling on his heel to return to Jacob’s office. He speculated he would have enough time to complete his tasks before he finished the drink, and mentally prepared to throw himself into his work.

He was severely overworked, and he couldn’t wait to collapse into the comfort of his own bed, wrapped in his blankets.

The thoughts made his eyes droop, watching the elevator doors close.

It was pleasant to stretch his legs and give his weary brain a rest, and a change of scenery always worked well in massaging those tight knots in his brain. The melodic beeping sound cut him from his trance, the automated voice ringing out through his skull, informing him of the number of the top floor. The doors spread open, and Leo stepped out, loosening his tie slightly.

A loud banging noise caught his attention, his head whipping to the left in surprise. The office desks were completely empty, the chairs tucked in and computers switched off. Only the dim ceiling light was left on, as well as that eerie feeling of being alone in a huge building.

Leo’s stomach rolled with dread.

It was only him and Jacob here, and possibly a janitor, if they hadn’t left already. It seemed the sound had come from his boss’ office, the blinds snapped shut and door open a jar. His shoes were muffled against the carpet as he skittishly approached the room, glancing at his own desk on the way. It was exactly how he left it, except…

A frown graced his brows, reaching forward and setting his picture frame right.

It seemed to have fallen over, and he was grateful the glass hadn’t cracked. Was that what made the noise? He stared at the picture of his mother, but turned towards the door in dismissal. Leo was more than happy to finish the day. He gripped the handle, pushing it open slightly. He could hear faint voices, and he froze.

Was Jacob talking to someone on the phone? He couldn’t be. Calls got redirected to Leo automatically. Out of curiosity and respect, he silently nudged the door open further, giving him a better view.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

There was somebody else in the room, dressed up in black and a mask covering his face. He was pointing a gun. He was pointing it directly at Jacob. The man was shaking behind the desk, tears streaming down his cheeks uncontrollably. His lips were quivering, no doubt trying to form words. It was the most emotion the stoic man had ever shown; he looked absolutely terrified.

The masked man seemed to say something, too quiet for Leo’s eavesdropping ears, tilting his gun. Jacob’s eyes widened, shaking his head widely.

Leo heard his voice rise in a pique of panicked desperation. “No, wait, please.”

Then there was a sickening bang, and Leo slapped a hand over his mouth. He suppressed the urge not to let out a horrific scream, watching in horror as Jacob’s body slammed against the cabinet behind him, before dropping to the ground lifelessly. Splatters of blood littered the glass in streaks, pooling onto the carpet by his lifeless body. Nausea stirred in the pit of Leo’s belly, tears pricking at his eyes.

He’d just been shot. Jacob had just been shot.

The secretary’s breath hitched in his throat, panic gripping him. God, was he going to die too?

The masked man’s shoulders heaved with a sigh, before he slid the gun into his belt wrapped around his waist. Those gloved fingers dipped under the fabric of his mask, before slipping it off his head, revealing tousled black hair. He pressed the back of his hand against his forehead wearily.

Leo didn’t see anymore than that. His feet staggered backwards, knocking the coffee cup with the heel of his shoe, causing him to flinch violently. He didn’t remember dropping it, but the black liquid was staining the floor under his feet, specks of steam rising into the air.

He felt a wave of dizziness slam into him, sending him into his desk. He threw his arms out to steady himself, whirling around in terror. He snatched the phone, his fingers barely even finding enough strength to punch in three digits on the black body. He pressed the cold object against his ear, the piercing rings vibrating through his skull. He could hardly keep his breathing under control.

He couldn’t stop replaying that moment, where the gun had gone off, and the bullet had embedded straight through his skull. The blood that followed, the useless slump of his body and the noise it made when he hit the floor. Leo felt tears burn in his eyes.

God, he didn’t want to die. He really didn’t want to die.

The door was pulled open, and Leo whirled around, his heart lodged in his throat. The killer stepped outside, but he instantly halted as his eyes landed on the secretary. A shudder raced down Leo’s spine when a female voice rang in his ear.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

He pressed himself against the desk, the edge digging into his hip so hard, he was sure it would bruise. The words couldn’t leave his lips, clogged in his throat.

The man’s eyes were piercing, slicing straight through him, leaving him paralised to the spot. It felt like he was being stared down by the grim reaper himself. His face was still in clear view. He hadn’t even put the mask back on. Leo’s bottom lip quivered, heart banging against his ribs.

The man blinked, before his brows relaxed, and he slowly reached for his belt. He pulled out the gun, and when the barrel pointed in his direction, Leo almost burst into tears.

“Hello?”

The killer raised a brow, nudging his gun downwards. The command made his stomach sink to his boots. Leo opened his mouth to speak, but the man’s gloved finger thumbed at the metal contraption, and a sharp clicking sound pierced through the air like a bullet. The sound alone spurred Leo into action, fumbling to slam the phone back down into its slot on his desk. A trembling sigh left his lips, feeling a hot tear bead down his cheek.

The man’s lip quirked into a small smirk. “There we go.”

The secretary’s hands were shaking as he lifted them weakly into the air, sticking close to his desk. The mercenary reached up to something on his shoulder, pushing his fingers against it. A loud crackling sound was heard.

“We have a bit of a problem,” he sighed. His voice was smooth, and it was making Leo shiver. “Can you make room for another?”

There was a muffled voice on the other end as Leo’s breathing picked up. Make room for another? What did that mean? The man released the communication device, redirecting his attention straight back to him. Leo’s eyes instantly flickered to the ground, pinching them shut.

“I-I didn’t see your face,” he shakily whispered.

The man scoffed in amusement. “It’s a bit late for that.”

“I won’t tell the cops, I promise! Please!”

“You just called them.” He raised a brow. “How can I trust you?”

Leo dissolved into a series of more tears. It felt like the gun was burning a hole straight through his forehead, unable to stop imagining that small bullet embedding in his brain. He shook his head from side to side. “I promise, I-I promise, please just let me go...”

The mercenary hummed, his eyes lacking any sort of compassion. He head turned aside for a moment, surveying his surrounding with one languid sweep. His heavy boots trailed along the carpet, coaxing Leo from his paranoid state. He cracked open one eye, too afraid any movement would cause the man to shoot him.

He gripped the back of one of the chairs, jerking it out from under the desk. The wheels smoothly rolled across the carpet as he swivelled it towards him, back facing Jacob’s door. His gloved hand patted the top, nudging the gun firmly.

“Sit.”

Leo didn’t need to be told twice. It took him a few horrible seconds to force his legs to move, staggering under his own weight. His fingers dug into the arm of the chair as he lowered himself down, shoulders tense. He half expected to feel the gun on the back of his skull, and a jarring pain before darkness, but the mercenary strode in front of him instead, gun hanging limply from his fingers.

Leo pressed his hands into his lap.

“You’re the secretary, aren’t you?” The man asked, his eyes flickering towards him. His mouth flopped open uselessly, before he quickly nodded his head. The man’s expression tightened.

“You weren’t supposed to be here,” he sighed, nonchalantly rubbing the gun against the side of his head. Maybe with some luck, he might accidentally shoot himself. “I didn’t see you when I disabled the cameras. How annoying. Where were you hiding?”

The gun tipped in his direction. Leo’s breath hitched in panic.

“Getting coffee!” He practically shrieked, pressing his back into the chair. “M-Mr Williams sent me on a coffee run, p-please don’t kill me!”

The mercenary’s eyes landed on the discarded coffee cup on the floor, before sliding back up to Leo’s pale face. He dragged his hand across his forehead, lowering the gun to slide it back into his belt. The secretary let out a trembling breath of relief, like a small weight had lifted off his shoulders.

“This is troublesome,” he groaned softly. “If you’d just stayed at your desk, this would have gone a lot smoother.”

Leo’s eyes widened in horror. The thought of never seeing the attack coming, throat being sliced from the shadows and soiling his own desk with blood. The mercenary seemed to read his thoughts easily.

“No, I wouldn’t have killed you,” he almost chuckled. “Just would’ve put you to sleep for a while. It’s always convenient to have somebody wake up and find the body. You got real unlucky, Mr Secretary; you even saw my face, too.”

He pulled out a bottle of liquid and a syringe from a pouch across his chest. Leo released a terrified sob, jolting in the chair. “No! Please, please don’t! I-I won’t tell, I swear, I won’t tell anybody, please!”

“Back in the seat,” the mercenary warned. Leo rigidly sank back, eyes burning with tears. He watched as the thin needle was pressed into the glass vial, and the plunger was slowly pulled outwards. He watched it fill the syringe, shaking in his boots.

“Please,” he croaked. The man ignored him.

“Like I said,” his voice echoed. “You weren’t supposed to be here tonight. I like to think I’m very thorough with my plans, so I find it odd you were in the right place, right time.”

He paused for a moment, pocketing the now empty vial. “Well, I guess now it would be wrong place, wrong time, huh?”

He took a step forward, and Leo’s heart began rising to his throat. The wheels on the chair stirred under his movement as his legs tensed underneath him. The accusation stabbed straight through his heart, scrambling against the arms of the chair.

“No,” he sobbed, careering backwards. “Don’t touch me!”

“Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

The chair jerked backwards and when the mercenary was close enough to touch him, he struck him as hard as he could with his leg. He felt his shoe sink into his stomach, successfully knocking the wind out of his lungs. The syringe clattered to the ground, and Leo wheeled backwards, scrambling out of the chair as it smacked abruptly into the wall.

He knew it wouldn’t take long for a man that size to recover. He was stronger, broader and larger than Leo in every way shape and form, and he didn’t doubt he had a horrible chance of escaping from a hitman.

But he tried. Leo was a fast runner.

The adrenaline pumped through his veins in a merciless rush. His shoes were smacking against the hard ground, ricocheting up to his thighs, but he couldn’t care. Couldn’t think.

He reached the doorway and skidded around the corner, slamming into the wall. He leered off it like he had been burnt, using the sturdiness to give himself a firm boost. Just as he was about to begin his descent down the stairs, something firm wrapped around his waist, jerking him back. His feet swept off the ground and a second arm slipped around his neck, pulling him into a hard chest.

Leo let out a terrified scream and thrashed his limbs frantically, desperately, trying to tear free. He felt a gloved hand wind through his hair, yanking his temple painfully against the concrete wall. Leo saw stars burst across his vision as he was shoved violently into the ground, still flailing, still screaming for help.

He felt a burning pain shoot up his shoulder blades, the knee digging painfully into the flesh. His wrists were locked together by a single hand, twisting his arms back at an uncomfortable angle. Another pressed against his mouth, muffling his screams. He heard the mercenary sigh above him.

“Jesus, you’re quick!” He exclaimed, the grip on his wrists bruising. Leo only squirmed desperately, sobbing against his hand. “Did you do track at school? You really covered some ground there.”

The secretary pressed his head into the ground, shaking with fear. The man was far too strong to shake off, and he didn’t think he was going to get another chance for escape. The gloved hand slid from his mouth, and Leo did the only thing he could.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he wailed, dragging his shoes against the ground. “Please let me go! I-I won’t say...anything, just please let me go. I’m begging you!”

“Yeah, you are,” the mercenary shrugged. “But it’s not working.”

He felt a sharp jab in the side of his neck, tearing a pained gasp from his lips. A cold feeling starting spreading through his skin, causing a whimper to catch in his throat.

“No, no, please...” He whispered shakily, but the man wasn’t listening. There was another sharp crackling sound from the man’s shoulder.

“You here? I got another body, I’n gonna need you to—” He stopped, his voice becoming a little sharper. “No, not dead, a live one, you idiot. I can’t climb out the way I came with another person, can you...? Yes, the cameras. Can you get him to do that? No, look, how do you expect me to scale down the building with somebody on my shoulder? Right. Make it quick, there’s a chance the cops could be coming. I’ll...tell you later, get it done.”

Leo’s hearing was starting to go funny. A tingling sensation began building up right in the tips of his fingers, making him feel ridiculously sluggish. It looked like the walls were moving.

His movements quickly began to die down, until he could hardly gather enough strength to move anything at all. A small moan escaped his lips, his eyelids drooping. The mercenary’s weight lifted off him, turning him onto his back.

“That feels better, right? Like you’re floating on cloud nine,” he chuckled, a handsome grin gracing his lips. Leo whined softly as he was scooped off the ground, head rolling against the man’s chest. “Keep flying for a little bit. Just relax.”

So Leo did. He felt a gloved thumb brushing away the tears on his cheek, before his vision was completely consumed in a black mist.

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