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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years

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Villainsicle | Part 11

Comfort! It is happening soon! I promise.

After speaking about Villain, Counselor and Hero both enact their plans to find out more about their mysterious captive. Meanwhile, Medic learns from the past.

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@whatwhumpcomments

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CW//Superhero whump, villain whumpee, conditioned whumpee, drugging, dehumanization, restraints, muzzles, choke chains, collars, pet whump (kinda), conditioning, forced sedation, just an absolutely unhealthy amount of caffeine, blood mention, injury mention, fire mention

“Humans are naturally very fearful things.”

The person in the video, the edges of their face and hair fuzzy with pixel artifacts, spoke. They had an odd grin on their face-- the sort of a news reporter. A trained smile. A very well-trained smile.

Behind them, the setting of the presentation had changed. In lieu of white tile, the floor and ceiling and walls between them glittered with black rubber. The void was broken only by a brightly colored fire extinguisher, leaned against a wall.

“As a species, we’re prey as much as we are predators. Assets are no different. They’re human too, after all. Human enough.”

At the presenter’s side, their Asset wavered. Though the action was represented with little more than a handful of pixels, it was hard not to notice the trembling of their jaw as they struggled to pant, to gasp for breath, yet meeting only the unyielding metal of the muzzle.

Unyielding yet safe, Medic mused. Control without injury. Restraint without damage.

“It’s that fear that allows our program to work as well as it does.” Somehow, that faux smile widened. “Training an Asset is simple. Fear breeds obedience. Once your Asset fears you, once they know that you are, indisputably, in control, then the training process may as well be complete.”

Without so much as a glance away from the camera, the presenter yanked upon their Asset’s leash, sending them stumbling closer as they struggled not to trip over their own feet. Their knees looked to be a moment from buckling. Deftly placing their finger between the device’s prongs, the presenter grabbed hold of the Asset’s collar, forcing their head skywards. The tiny, nearly microscopic puncture wounds upon their neck’s skin was revealed, if only for a moment.

“This Asset is relatively new to our program. They’ve previously harmed another handler. But no history, no matter how bad, can prevent an Asset from being trained. It just means you need to put in a little more effort. A little more fear. A little more control.

I understand fully the skepticism surrounding this program. You, too, may be skeptical that such a program as this can function. But I assure you, it can. This Asset has a long history of violence, attempted escapes, facility damage, and the like. Most would consider them a lost cause. Untrainable.

No one is untrainable.

Before this, they have not been taught a single command. But no one is untrainable.”

For a moment, they turned from the camera-- the first time they had done so. Medic couldn’t help but wonder whether the red-tinged pixels on their neck were from a wound, or simply from a glitch of the file.

The presenter loosened their grip of their prey, just slightly, letting go of their collar, yet still keeping hold on the leash where it attached to the choke chain.

“Sedeo.”

With a sharp, startling pull on their neck, the Asset found themself practically thrown to their knees. The movement was abrupt, such that the pixels representing it blurred and lagged.

The swiftness was followed by silence. The presenter backed away, their prey struggling to their feet. From behind them, where their hands sat straining and folded, Medic could have sworn to have seen a few frames of flame and smoke.

If the presenter noticed, they paid no heed. Once their Asset had recovered, again, they spoke. Again, they ordered.

“Sedeo.”

Their Asset sputtered a moment, backing away as far as their restraint would allow.

The word was repeated, once more. It came as a snap, a whip strike in the air.

“Sedeo!”

At the same moment, the presenter’s hand moved to a loop on their belt, where some indistinguishable object hang.

In a stumbling panic, the Asset dropped to their knees, head bowed. Jaw trembling.

The predator smiled, that plastered, trained grin, as they turned back to the camera. Their trainee still sat, panting and whimpering. A single pixel of red ran down the back of their neck.

“It’s a simple process, really. I assure you this: No one is untrainable.” With the last sentence, their tone took an odd, almost somber dip, before it picked up again with just as much speed. “I’ll see you all in the next video, then! Good luck!”

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The base awoke at 7.

It was like a creature, in its own proper respects, rising slowly, legs stiff as it shook its fur. In the hallways of the quarters, a dozen separate alarm tones could be heard, followed by a dozen bleary eyes blinking. Not long after, the whir of coffee machines would begin, awaking those who had neglected to awake to their morning alarm.

Generally, Counselor awoke before the rest of the creature’s parts. They considered themself an early riser, awaking as the sun did, and oftentimes even before that. Today, however, was an exception to the rule. They had stayed up far too late past midnight to even consider arising at 6. After their alarm buzzed for a few minutes, it gave up.

They did not rise until the knock on their door sounded.

It was hushed in volume and nervous in tone. They had no need to ask who was on the other side.

“Just a minute.” They practically whispered in reply.

That was, about, exactly how long it took for them to rush to prepare themself. In exactly 62 seconds, they emerged into the quarters hallway. Hero was nearly knocked over by the door, saved only by stumbling backwards at the right time.

“Are you ready, then?” Hero raised a brow. Counselor had no clue how they managed to appear so calm.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” They shrugged.

“Please don’t let Medic murder you.”

“Yeah I’ll- I’ll try that.”

And with that, they went-- Counselor left, Hero right.

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Attempting to find any individual person in the Resistance’s base was, in most senses of the word, an impossibility. Unlike a needle in a haystack, those in the building were constantly moving about, weaving through the maze of hallways and corridors. It was more like finding a grain of rice in the ocean, than anything. Counselor knew that better than anyone else.

Medic, however, was never a problem to find.

Officially, the base’s medical wing opened its operations at 7, meaning that Medic would be there at 6, or 5, or whatever godawful hour they had decided to wake up at. Regardless of when they arrived, though, they would always be there. Always in that little corner of the building. New recruits often asked if that was where they slept.

Some nights, it was.

Thus, that was where Counselor was headed. They couldn’t quite ignore the tension they held in their shoulders, but they did their best not to display it.

The medical wing was a minuscule thing, tucked away near the center of the structure, with only a single room capable of housing a patient overnight, and another designed for exams.

Counselor pushed open the door that led to the wing, wincing at the creak of steel. They half expected Medic to be on the other side, but they weren’t. All that was there were two closed doors.

On instinct as much as logic, they moved to the first one-- the exam room. It was where the doctor spent most of their day, dealing with everything from horrific injuries to someone, somehow managing to consume a rock.

The motion sensing light clicked on as they opened the door, illuminating only an empty exam table and scattered equipment.

Already, it wasn’t a good sign.

Nerves already turning up a notch, Counselor backed up, moving to the second door. The hospital room. With a deep breath, they unlocked the door and pushed it open.

The room was dark, lit only by the glow of monitors. Their beeping was accented by the steady rhythm of Villain’s shallow snoring.

Counselor had been so distracted by the captive that they only then noticed the fact that Medic was not here, either.

There was no other part of the medical wing. It was tiny, and it wasn’t like the doctor did much else. Maybe they were just making coffee. Or in the bathroom, maybe?

Rationale running through their head, Counselor backed out of the room. They closed the door as quietly as they could, turned, and nearly slammed into Medic. The steaming hot coffee in their hand made Counselor grateful that it had only been a near collision. They took a step back, giving comfortable distance between the two of them.

For a split second, it seemed almost as though Medic didn’t notice them-- their bleary eyes too focused upon the coffee in their mug. A moment later, though, they looked up.

Their gazes locked. There was no anger or hostility in the action, not that Counselor could tell. Yet, there was a tenseness to it. With a dawning sense of dread, they remembered their encounter from the day before.

But, they’d already come this far.

“Hey.” They began. The second their lips moved to form the word, they knew it sounded stupid.

“...Hey.”

“Uh... Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“Um-”

“Is there something I can help you with?” Medic blinked, before turning, briefly, to see the door that Counselor was standing in front of. “Are you... Seriously?”

“I was looking for you.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to talk.”

“Again, why?”

“Well... I’m sure that you know that I’m in charge of the well-being of everyone living and working here. That includes you. And you look exhausted, everyone has noticed.”

“I’m fine.”

“Your glasses are on upside-down.”

Medic blinked for a moment, before fixing the error.

“That doesn’t discount the fact that people here need medical care.”

“I know it doesn’t. But I also know that you don’t have any appointments until this afternoon.”

“I have a patient to take care of.”

“Mhm. I know, that’s what I’m offering to help you with. How about you go back to sleep, and I can deal with Villain today.”

Medic grimaced.

“They need... very specialized care. It’s the kind of thing that needs to be under a doctor’s supervision.”

“I took a bullet out of your arm in Tampa.” Counselor raised a brow. “I think I can handle it.”

“It’s complicated. I don’t have time to explain.”

“I think I can feed someone Secobarbital just fine, actually.”

That seemed to awake Medic, at least partially, from their half-asleep trance. They looked up.

“How the hell did you-”

“The Head of Facilities isn’t exactly too cagey about inventory.” Counselor smiled, as sweetly and smugly as they could possibly manage. They’d noticed the discrepancy in their medicine stocks the night prior, when checking in on their supply of blankets.

“It‘s... It’s to help them sleep. That’s all.”

“And that’s why you gave them enough to incapacitate a horse?”

Medic bit their lower lip.

“And what are you going to do about it, exactly?”

“Well, I do have my daily check-in with Leader...”

“They won’t care. They know Villain is dangerous. Sedation is completely justified.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean that they’d be mad. But if you’re having to sedate your patients... maybe that means you could use some extra help around here. Someone to help with Villain. Someone who’s been looking into their files since the day they came here.”

The longer they spoke, the more Medic’s eyes narrowed.

“What the hell do you want?”

“Either you let me help, or I get Leader to assign me to do so. It’s a zero sum game. But with the first way, they won’t know that you’re misusing our medical supplies.”

“You’re not seriously doing this?”

“Oh, I seriously am.”

For a moment, they stood like that. Medic gripped the coffee cup in their hand with such force that Counselor was surprised that the handle did not simply shatter. After what felt like a nerve-wracking eternity, however, Medic gave their answer:

“Fine. Damn it all to hell.”

“Great!” Again, that smile leapt to Counselor’s countenance. “Sleep well. Oh, and, when you get up, you might want to make some new coffee. Yours might have been swapped out for decaf when you weren’t looking.”

Medic looked to be about to smash something.

“Thanks.” They growled in response.

Counselor couldn’t help but grin, ear to ear, as they turned to enter Villain’s hospital room.

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The knock on the door to Leader’s office came at a rather rare moment in their day-- one of the few moments in which they were alone, not in some meeting or mediating some argument. It had been almost peaceful.

Of course, that peace had to dissolve as soon as the knock sounded. They look up from their desk.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Hero.”

“Hero?”

“Yeah. I just wanted to talk, quick.”

“Uh... Alright. Come on in.”

As the door opened, they quickly combed their hair down with their fingers. It still looked like quite the mess, though, when Hero entered. They gestured for them to sit in the chair across, which they did.

Leader did their best to compose themself on such short notice. They had yet to fully awake, but they sat up straight in their chair, arms on the desk before them. A proper leader, as best as they could manage to be one.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“You uh, you know how Counselor spent like, hours yesterday looking over those files?”

“Yeah? Did they ever go to sleep, even?”

“Eventually, yeah. But I promised that if they got some rest, I’d talk to you.”

“About Villain?”

“Mhm.”

Hero couldn’t help but feel bad about saying it, but it was the truth. Trying to lie to Leader would only sow distrust, which was far from the top of their priorities.

“Anything in specific?” Leader took a drink of a soda. Hero sipped their coffee. “I know they’ve been obsessing over the whole thing but... If I had some kind of magic solution, I’d have told you a long time ago.”

“Their backstory. That’s what they mainly wanted to know about, as far as I could tell. I mean, we all know that they appeared and started doing... villain stuff like six months ago. But besides that?” They made a ring with their fingers. “Zilch. We figured that maybe you’d know something more.”

“Why would you think that?”

As much as Hero wanted to point out how Leader looked about to faint whenever they so much as looked at Villain--Hero had never seen it themself, but had heard enough secondhand-- they knew that that wouldn’t end well.

“Back at Organization, I mean, you were kinda the head of records and stuff, right? We just figured, maybe you’d remember something...”

“I... I hate letting you down.” Even with their sympathetic voice, Hero couldn’t help but see Leader bite their lip. “I know that six months ago, they started attacking various locations around the continent.”

“Do you think they work for Supervillain? For Organization.”

“We all did, at some point. I mean, that’s how we got our powers. Right now, though? It’s... Not a possibility we can reasonably pass up. They don’t exactly act like Supervillain’s other agents, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“What about back when you did work for Organization? Do you remember anything? Anything at all?”

“No.” Leader shook their head. “I’m sorry, but I’m just as in the dark as you.”

Hero nodded, though they noted with frustration the beads of sweat gathering on Leader’s forehead.

“Okay. Thank you.”

They stood, sliding the chair back. They didn’t so much as make eye contact with Leader as they turned, heading for the door.

“Wait.”

Hero turned. The droplets of sweat had started to fall-- combining with the gathering of tears beading in Leader’s eyes. They blinked them away as quickly as they formed.

“Catch.”

Leader reached into, of all things, a pencil holder on their desk, producing a finger-sized piece of machinery. A flash drive. With far too little grace, they threw it, with Hero catching it like an umpire would. Before they left, they glanced at the device, noting with a slight pang of nervousness the text written upon it:

“Property of Organization.”

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The hospital room seemed darker the second time Counselor walked through its door. This time, however, they quickly flicked on the light switch as they let the door close itself behind them. They made no move to lock it. Despite what Medic seemed to think, Villain was their patient. Not their prisoner.

The pale villain seemed to blend into the blank white sheets on which they lay. Counselor noticed with a pang of worry the padded restraints, securing their wrists to the bed frame. They could hardly even walk. It seemed unnecessary at best, cruel at worst.

One day. They couldn’t fix everything, but they had one day. One day to help as much as they could.

With footsteps as soft as they could make them, they approached Villain’s bedside, a gentle hand laid upon their shoulder gently attempting to shake them awake.

They had one day. They’d start with a bath.

#whump #whumpee #whumper #whump community #whumpblr #hero villain whump #villainsicle #villain whumpee #powered whumpee #conditioned whumpee

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secretwhumplair · 3 years

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Training Grounds

1,207 words | Original work: No Warrior

Prompt | No-holds-barred beatdown - @badthingshappenbingo

Content | Beating, collar and leash/chain, multiple whumpers, weak whumpee, broken bones, bruises, strangling, starvation, captivity, name-calling, mockery, manhandling, implied: whipping

Notes | Here we gooo! Don’t expect anything chronological, I haven’t been feeling it much so whatever can get written, will get written.

P.S. Apologies to the person who requested “Banished” and was told I would get to it once I started the BTHB back up. I have nothing else to say ^^;

Yves didn’t know how long it had been since he had been outside.

Ergis yanked on the chain attached to the iron collar around Yves’ neck when he hesitated for the briefest of moments, blinking into the unfamiliar light. Yves went sprawling, the gravel cutting into his palms when he desperately tried to catch himself. His arms gave as easily as his legs, trembling already just from walking here from his cell. He hadn’t eaten. He hadn’t slept. He had no strength left at all.

Not that he’d had much of it to begin with.

Ergis laughed, and called to the other knights. “Look at him!”

A hard kick landed in Yves’ side, darkly bruised already, and his breath caught in his throat with the exploding agony. Before he could even breathe again, he felt the chain tighten, and desperately tried to scramble back onto his feet. It would have been easier if every movement didn’t hurt so much, if his every limb wasn’t trembling with exhaustion.

It was a vain struggle, and he felt his windpipe close as the metal dug into his neck. He couldn’t so much as gasp for air while the gravel tore into his legs and arms as he was dragged along helplessly. Dark spots swam into his vision. He could hear laughter, but it sounded distant.

He couldn’t make out where they were going, but eventually the pull on the collar relented, and he collapsed onto the ground - dust now - trying to catch his breath, trying to figure out what was going on, what they wanted this time, please-

Something hard hit him in the back.

“Get up.”

When he didn’t respond immediately, he was kicked again. He thought he felt his battered ribs shift inside of him.

“Get up, runt.”

Trembling with pain and fear and weakness, Yves forced his elbows underneath him.

Not fast enough. Another kick, this time to his buttocks, collapsed him into the floor again like a house of cards. He whimpered, but he knew no one heard over their laughter - and even if they did, they wouldn’t care.

One of them grabbed him by the collar and lifted him up like a naughty puppy until he stood on shaky legs, gasping for air once more. The object that had hit him when he was on the ground clattered down beside him.

It was a practice sword, little more than a short staff of hard wood.

“Go on, pick it up.”

Ergis was still next to him, smirking maliciously. Yves’ eyes darted away from him. They were out on the training grounds. Eight of the other knights were surrounding them - none of them less than a head taller than Yves - each holding their own practice sword, their trained and well-nourished muscles half-hidden under leather armour.

He could see where this was going, nausea rising in his throat. “Please,” he whispered, knowing it was hopeless.

Ergis grabbed him by the nape of the neck, hard. “Hmm? Wasn’t this what you wanted? Train with us?” He grinned down at Yves, showing his teeth. It was true - it had been true - he had always wanted to be one of them. He had always been told he was too small, too weak, even before. And now-

“There, we’re going to do you the favour.” Ergis effortlessly kicked the practice sword up into his hands, then thrust it at Yves. “Take it in your hands or take it to the face, runt.”

Yves clasped the thing with trembling hands. The weight dragged at his starved arms. He couldn’t hope to mimic the knights’ confident stances - and even if he could, he wouldn’t have dared, they would only beat it out of him, again.

Ergis went over to the knight who was holding his practice sword, grabbed it lightly and twirled it. Even just watching, Yves felt the echo of the blow on his body. He couldn’t hold back a sob as they all stood there for a moment, leering at them like wolves at an injured fawn.

Then Ergis strode at him, barking, “Defend yourself!”

He barely managed to raise his weapon before Ergis swung at him. The blow came with such force that it drove both practice swords into Yves’ chest, biting hard into the tattered skin under his thin shirt. He stumbled back with a wail of pain, only to feel himself hit with as much force from behind, across the whipmarks crisscrossing his back. He was thrown forward like a ragdoll and fell hard on his knees. “Plea-”

Ergis didn’t wait for him to finish before he struck him in the side, sending him tumbling to the ground again, old pains flaring into new ones. “Come on now, runt! Who knows, if you impress us, maybe we’ll let you join us after all!”

Rauscous laughter erupted from the group while Yves tried to pull himself into a ball, protect himself as best as he could, not that it would help, they could manhandle him into whatever position they wanted and the tears streamed down his face.

More blows to his back, several in quick succession this time, driving whatever thought he might have had out except please-

“I said, get up,” Ergis growled.

He couldn’t disobey. It would get worse. He didn’t know how it could possibly get worse, but it would. He forced himself up onto all fours, whispering “please” with every pant.

“You know, it almost looks like you don’t want this after all.”

Another sharp blow hit his tormented ribcage, his scream dying as the air was driven out of him again.

He barely managed to stay up on all fours before two more blows hit him, from different directions, and he instinctively crouched down, drew himself together. “Please-”

“You should get up.” That was Artiès’ voice, more refined than Ergis’, cruel not like a mace but like deadly venom.

But Yves had to obey. It was the only thing he could do. He tried to regain his balance, brought a leg under himself with effort.

A sharp, precise thrust hit the back of his knee, digging deep and forcing him back down with a scream. Before he could process the clawing pain, more blows rained down on his back, into his sides until he couldn’t draw a single breath. He desperately wrapped his arms around his head, only for both of them to be hit simultaneously, his left arm cracking with a searing jolt.

“Get up, runt! C’mon!”

He didn’t know how long it lasted. It could have been hours. It could have been days. It felt like an eternity.

But finally, when their prey could hardly move any longer. they’d had enough.

He could do nothing but remain lying on the ground, covered in dirt and blood and agony. “Please,” he whispered, still. “Please.” Over and over to the throbbing rhythm of his blood pressing into, through, out of his injuries. He couldn’t even tell anymore whether there was anyone there to hear him.

Until someone grabbed him by the chin to drag him up. Every inch of him protested in pain. “No, please, no-”

“You still want to train with us, runt?” Ergis asked, every word dripping with smug glee.

#whump #whump writing #bthb #no holds barred beatdown #beating #multiple whumpers #weak whumpee #strangling #starvation #broken bones #collar #captivity #my writing #no warrior #yves #the knights

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