Meraki

Whump Prompts

You Didn't Do Anything Wrong

Sleep

My Favorites

Ring

Chains

Thief Version 2

Pulling Punches

Not Tonight

One Condition

Don't. I'm Fine

Don't Look At Me

Series (Masterlist)

Not Sick (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8)

Dawn (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)

Thief (Version 1, Version 2, Part 2 of Version 2)

Just a Fever (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)

A New Pet (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)

Muted (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)

Experiment (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)

Shorts and Prompts

Sirens

A Mischievous Rescue

No Choice

Say It Again

Don't Challenge Me

Dialogue Prompt

Whump Prompts

You Look Awful

You Didn't Do Anything Wrong

Ten Seconds

Sleep

Whump Prompts 2

Sweat poured down Caretaker’s back just thinking about carrying Weapon upstairs to their spare bedroom. They’d hoped Weapon would wake up, grateful for the gentle nursing Caretaker had given them, and walk to the bed on their own two feet, especially since they’d already dragged them nearly three miles out of the forest. 

At least this time no one was drenched in blood. It seemed their stitches were going to hold as well. Weapon was clean and wrapped up in nearly every bandage in the house. 

That in mind, Caretaker’s current top priorities were: settling Weapon somewhere they could rest, throwing themselves into the hottest shower imaginable, and finally sleeping for the next two days. The order of completion was still flexible. 

 Every exhausted muscle in their body shook as they lowered Weapon onto the mattress. The blankets on the bed were thin, but soft. Hopefully, they would be able to sleep easily without overheating or too much pain.

The last light of the day reached through the window and brushed across Weapon's face. Caretaker couldn’t say they looked peaceful in the warm glow. Heavy scars marred their skin, casting shadows that distorted their features. Scars that matched the marks covering most of their body. A history that couldn’t be forgotten.

They turned away. That would have to be good enough for now. A hot shower just took top priority on their to-do list.

And yet, Caretaker couldn’t seem to enjoy it. Wind buffeting the house until it groaned became Weapon crying out in pain in their ears. Heavy drips from the leaky faucet were Weapon's footsteps on the way out the door, too scared to realize they had been brought to a safe place. Every flicker of the old lightbulb was a sign that whoever had abandoned Weapon for dead had returned to finish the job. A shower could do nothing to clean Caretaker’s mind. 

Of course, Weapon was fine. They hadn’t so much as twitched in their sleep when Caretaker returned to the room to check on them one last time. Alive and breathing, comfortable and slow.

Weapon continued to sleep through most of the next day. Through Caretaker’s stumbling around, cleaning up the clutter that built up while the room was empty. Changing their bandages nearly roused them, but their pinched expression smoothed back, and they never opened their eyes.

Caretaker had no choice but to leave for more bandages soon after. They hadn’t had enough to replace all the original ones. Leaving them for much longer would open up too many opportunities for infection. 

They were sure the poor teen at the checkout lane would report them. Their eyes had widened at the mountain of first aid supplies. As Caretaker caught a falling bandage and mumbled an excuse they couldn’t remember seconds after it had been said, they motioned for a passing employee to stay nearby. It was a subtle motion, but one Caretaker had been looking for, and they seemed to know it.

Yet, no one stopped Caretaker. Eyes followed them, sure, but no one brought in management or pressured Caretaker for a more acceptable answer. 

When they made it home, a noise upstairs was nearly covered by the crashing of the heavy shopping bags on the counter. It had, it seemed, been too much to hope their guest would continue sleeping through their absence. They had a feeling they should be grateful they weren’t immediately attacked upon opening the front door.

Knock knock. Caretaker kept the warning of their presence soft so as not to scare Weapon. The last thing they needed was to strain their wounds by jumping at the sound of the door. “Excuse me, Weapon? Are you awake? I’ve got fresh bandages for you.”

Silence.

Caretaker peeked in the door. 

A trail of blankets led to where Weapon was kneeling. One end was still wrapped around their left foot. Their hands rested extremely still in their lap, a bandage only half wrapped up their arm from where they appeared to have been rewrapping it. Despite the noise of panic Caretaker made as they entered the room, they kept their eyes trained on a spot in the floor only they could see. 

“Holy… What happened? Why are you out of bed? Are you okay? Moving didn’t rip your stitches, did it?”

“No.” Weapon’s voice was gravelly from disuse. “My stitches are in acceptable condition.”

Kneeling beside Weapon, Caretaker dumped their bag of supplies and reached for their hand. “Are you sure? I should probably have a look anyway. Can I help you finish rebinding your arm? It looks way too tight. Does it hurt?”

Weapon’s eyes flick up for a split second before settling back down. They hold their arm out in front of them and chew on just enough of their lower lip to notice the motion. 

“Thank you.” Caretaker decides to remove the hanging bandage altogether and grabs a new, clean one from the pile. “You didn’t answer the question. Are you hurting much?”

Hand twitching in Caretaker’s grasp, Weapon shook their head. “The pain is within acceptable parameters.”

“So you are in pain. I’d be shocked if you weren’t. I’d like to get some food in you before you take some medicine. Do you think you’ll be okay waiting for me to heat up some of the soup I bought? Goodness, I think you’ve got a fever now as well.”

When Caretaker looked up from their arm, Weapon flinched away. They had finally been looking up, but curled in on themselves like they expected to be attacked for the action. It wasn’t painting a good picture of what they had been put through. Or easing the tension of how they had been found. 

Caretaker kept their movements slow and readable as they lifted Weapon’s head to look at them. “You’re safe now. Do you understand?”

“No, Master.”

Caretaker startled a little at the title. “What don’t you understand?”

Weapon sat silent. Their eyes were tortured with things they weren’t saying.

“Are you in pain?” 

“The pain is within acceptable parameters.”

“So the answer is yes?” Caretaker let their thumb rub lightly over Weapon’s scarred cheek and tried not to startle when they leaned ever so slightly into the touch. 

“Yes, Master.”

“Can you wait until after you’ve eaten some soup to take something for the pain, or do you need the relief first?”

Weapon’s lips parted in a light pant as their eyes flicked across Caretaker’s face, searching. Even they didn’t seem to know what they were searching for. No words could seem to slip past that wall of panic. 

Caretaker released their face, hoping some distance would ease their anxiety. “Hey, you’re safe. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s okay if you don’t have an answer. All I’m trying to do is figure out the best way to help.”

“Why?” 

The single word, an unpermitted question, broke the wall. Weapon curled in on themselves. Hands on the back of their neck, elbows touching the ground, and knees spreading slightly wider. Their back was exposed. Sides open. Breathing thick with fear.

“Hey, hey, no! You’re going to rip your stitches!” Caretaker gasped and pulled Weapon back upright. “It’s okay! Slow your breathing. I’m not going to hurt you. It was a good question.” 

Weapon helped Caretaker shift their body back until they were resting against the side of the bed. They looked exhausted and yet completely aware of every move Caretaker made. Only, unlike the first time they woke up, they didn’t seem to be considering attacking as an option. There was only acceptance for whatever Caretaker decided to do. 

Checking their stitches carefully, Caretaker sighed with relief. “It’s alright. You’ve only opened up one small spot on your arm. I’ll need to change the bandage for that, but we can wait until it stops bleeding first.”

Weapon wasn’t looking at them again. 

“Hey, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Master.” 

“Then pay close attention. I will not intentionally hurt you. I do not want you to be in pain. I do want you to tell me what you need and anything else I might need to know. As well as anything you want me to know. I don’t know what all whoever abandoned you like this did, but you are safe here.”

Caretaker could have sworn they saw a tear in Weapon’s eye before it was blinked away. 

“Do you have any food allergies I need to know about?”

“No, Master.”

Despite the pure chaos of noise Caretaker made as they dashed for the injured person, the stranger struggled to locate them through the brush. They pushed themselves to their feet, using the tree behind them for support, and began walking away—a slow, unsteady trek with bandages hanging off their body in multiple places. 

The smell of vomit and blood made Caretaker’s stomach churn. A clear path of trampled and stained underbrush opened up and marked the direction the stranger had come from. It also made it much easier to follow them.

Worry tinged their voice as Caretaker gained on them, “Stop! I’m not going to hurt you. Hey, listen, you need help!”

One of the trailing bandages bounced and twisted around a sapling, and the stranger made a sound for the first time. They stumbled, pulled back into the growing tree, and collapsed as it broke under their weight. The whimpering gasp they made seemed to draw out more of a reaction than anything else had. They were afraid.

“It’s okay! Don’t move. It’s okay, I just want to help you.” Caretaker cooed as they cut away the trapped bandages and helped the stranger roll over onto their back. They could feel the person trembling with each light touch. “I’m sorry. I know it hurts. I’m sorry. You’re safe with me. I promise, I’m not going to do anything to hurt you intentionally.”

“I don’t—” The person’s voice was weak and the words unsure. Their eyes widened as they looked up at Caretaker, and one hand clapped over their mouth. 

Caretaker pulled their hand away from their face and assessed the scrapes, cuts, and scars covering every inch of it, “You’re alright. My name is Caretaker. Can you tell me your name?”

“Special Unit 305. Designated title: Weapon.” The stranger gasped as their eyes rolled back. The tension in their body eased, and their hand went limp as they lost consciousness. 

It wasn’t easy to finish the job bandaging the dying stranger. Caretaker wished they had brought their hiking kit, but they hadn’t expected to run into anyone on that side of the forest or to walk as far as they did. No one ever passed through the section they were in. It was dangerous, no man’s land.

To their surprise, Weapon didn’t wake up through the process. 

To their concern, Weapon also didn’t wake up as Caretaker carried them back to their home. 

Quickly and with the efficiency of someone with three incredibly clumsy younger siblings, Caretaker cleaned and properly dressed Weapon’s wounds. One on their side looked like a bullet had passed clear through. Long cuts they supposed came from some sort of knife or other blade. Bruises in the shapes of fists and boot treads. 

Caretaker decided the last cut needed stitches. It wasn’t long, but it looked dangerous, twisting from their collarbone and up the side of their neck. Of course, acknowledging stitches were needed and actually giving them are two different things. The needles and supplies they needed were in their emergency bag, but they’d never even considered trying actually to do it before.

So, they did what anyone else would do in a situation like that. They pulled up a tutorial video and set it to play on repeat. 

The first stitch, they had trouble getting their knot to hold. The second and third were too far apart, so they had to try to fit the fourth in between to keep the wound closed. Fifth and sixth wouldn’t win them any awards, but they would work. And the seventh…

The seventh would have gone exactly where Weapon’s thumb pressed into Caretaker's throat. The stranger was awake and on them faster than Caretaker could blink. With a bang, they slammed Caretaker’s head against the wall, and for a second, Caretaker saw stars. 

Weapon stayed silent, chest heaving as their eyes studied Caretaker’s face. Their lips parted like they were going to say something, but closed without a sound. 

Instead, their hand lifted, reaching for the thread hanging from their neck. 

“Don’t!” Caretaker gasped from beneath Weapon’s slowly loosening hold, “Don’t. It’s not done.”

“I don’t…” Weapon blinked and stumbled, releasing Caretaker to support themselves with the wall on either side of Caretaker’s head. “I don’t want to die.”

Caretaker tried to catch them as they fell to their knees, but Weapon was too heavy. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

“They left me… to die.” 

Sidekick stumbled as Hero pulled them toward the changing rooms. “Hero, please. Think about this. I don’t want to die because you—”

“I’m a hero, and you’re my sidekick. It doesn’t matter if we make it out alive. We will not abandon the innocent workers in the hotel to suffer through whatever sadistic thing those villains decide to do with them. Get dressed. Put on a bulletproof vest if you’re so worried about traps and death.”

And that was that.

Sidekick continued to beg Hero to reconsider the whole way to the hotel. Hero continued to ignore their pleas for their life.

When the building came down around them, Hero ran for the cleaning lady standing frozen by the door instead of helping Sidekick end their fight with Villain. Sidekick had yelled for help, screaming as the floor beneath their feet began to shake. Hero laughed and said they were lucky they were outside the structure when the floors above finally caved in. Otherwise, who would have been there to pull Sidekick out of the rubble?

If Sidekick’s arm hadn’t been dislocated, they would have punched Hero in the side. Right over the spot where one of Villain’s goons had managed to cut through their suit and scratch along Hero’s ribs. They yelled until Hero got bored and turned away.

Thankfully, the building hadn’t completely crushed their legs. If it were possible to call any part of what had happened lucky, it would have been that the larger chunks had fallen together and formed a lopsided shelter that protected Sidekick (and Villain) from the majority of the dangerous rubble. Not all, but enough. They were still in close enough to one piece to walk back to base, and the only Doctor that Hero allowed them to see. (For safety and confidentiality reasons, of course.)

Doctor met Sidekick at the door. “Dammit, Sidekick. You look awful! If you even think about telling me you were in that hotel when it fell, I’m going to dislocate your other arm.” 

“I was fighting Villain. Couldn’t get out.”

“Dammit, Sidekick. Where was Hero?”

“Carrying a civilian to safety.”

“Dammit, Sidekick!”

Wincing as they took too deep a breath and irritated their badly bruised, if not broken, ribs, Sidekick stumbled forward to the stretcher waiting at Doctor’s side. “Dammit, Doctor, what do you want me to do? I was in the building, fighting Villain, as I was ordered. It’s not like I’m the one who planted the bombs that brought the whole thing down. Now. Would you mind continuing to curse at me upstairs? It hurts.”

Curse, they did. Doctor cursed them as they and their nurses shoved Sidekick’s stretcher onto the elevator. A few new curses joined the mix as Doctor cut away their clothes and began treating the damage. They continued cursing as they moved aside to let a nurse finish wrapping the last wound and leaned over Sidekick to study their face. 

They only stopped cursing when a shout and the sound of footsteps rang out in the hallway.

“Sidekick! Sidekick, where are you?” Doors slammed open as Hero ignored the windows, allowing them to see into the rooms as they searched.

“Here—” Sidekicks voice broke off into a gravely cough, “Here, Hero.”

“What the hell?” Hero glared at Sidekick and smacked their wrapped ankle. “I needed you out there! Villain got away because you left to get a Band-Aid on your booboos.”

Sitting up despite the hollow ache in their chest, they took a deep enough breath to yell, “You needed me? Really, you needed me? Where were you when the hotel collapsed on top of me? I needed you to help me fight Villain so we could all get out of there, but you were too busy lounging around where it was safe.”

“Do you really think so little of me? I was being a hero. I was saving civilians who would have died. You weren’t there to help me stop Villain from leaving while my back was turned. Now, they’ll be able to blow up even more buildings if we don’t catch them.”

“Let me guess,” Sidekick sighed, “You were talking to reporters instead of watching Villain, and they escaped their cuffs again.”

Hero scoffed, “The city needed reassurance that it was safe now. Don’t talk to me like I was doing something wrong. It’s a good thing they were there, anyway. One of their cameras managed to catch which direction Villain went, and we’ve managed to locate where he should be.”

Sidekick rolled their eyes and lay their head back on the elevated bed. “Wonderful. Take the cops with you this time. If Villain can go directly into police custody, it will be harder for them to—”

“Yeah, yeah. Get your spare suit. We need to hurry.”

This time, it was Doctor who interrupted. “Sidekick isn’t going anywhere.”

Hero’s eyes rolled so far back, Sidekick wondered if they found anything interesting in the open space. Their posture straightened, and they switched to their heroic authority voice. “Sidekick is needed to complete their mission. You gave them medical care, and they’re obviously well enough to have gotten back here on their own.”

“They could have died, Hero.” Doctor kept their tone low and professional. “If they go out again, if they fight Villain, they won’t make it.”

“They are prepared to die. We all are. Sometimes, that’s what it takes to complete the mission and save the world.” Hero turned their gaze to Sidekick, staring at them down their nose. “Get on your spare suit. Meet me at the museum in ten minutes.”

Sidekick wanted to argue. They let their mouth fall open, letting the pain that shot through their jaw ground them. When Hero’s eyes sharpened into a punishing glare, they closed their mouth without saying a word. Tears started to build in the corners of their eyes. They blinked them silently away.

Hero left with a scoff and a victorious chuckle. “Ten minutes, Sidekick.”

It was an impossible request. The museum was fifteen minutes away on foot. It would probably take them at least five minutes to get dressed again with their arm like it was. Realigned, but still painful. Since they were already going to be late, they could afford to take one more minute to prepare. One more minute to live on their terms.

One finger against their forehead took the fight from their body. 

“You will not leave this bed.” Doctor said, throwing a few curses after Hero.

“I…”

“Dammit, Sidekick!” Doctor slapped them. Hard. 

Sidekick looked down at their hands. It was fine. Better for Doctor to get their anger out now instead of getting fired for confronting Hero later. 

“Look at me.” 

Sidekick stood. The nurses made various distressing sounds, and the movement was too clumsy for Sidekick’s liking, but Doctor didn’t try to stop them. 

“I’m sorry,” Sidekick whispered.

Doctor slapped them again. 

Sidekick stumbled, and Doctor caught their hand as they reached up to wipe away the slowly building tears. “Don’t. Let them fall.”

One tear slipped free as Doctor’s hand rose to cradle sidekicks cheek. They caught the drop under their thumb and rubbed it into their skin.

“I’m shocked, Sidekick. Where is your voice? I never thought you were the type to give up.”

They couldn’t help but lean into the gentle touch. “I said I’m sorry.”

Doctor shook their head, “No, you said you’re willing to let Hero kill you for no other reason than pride. You cannot give in. I won’t let you give up. Cry if you need to, yell, scream, curse. You can slap me as hard as you can if it means you won’t give up. No matter what, you cannot give up.”

“There’s nothing…” Sidekick’s voice drifted off as pain shot through their chest. They allowed Doctor to guide them back down onto the bed. “There’s nothing I can do. I don’t have a choice.”

A hand to the back of their bandaged head pressed Sidekick’s face into Doctor’s chest. “You can ask for help. I know. I know, you’ve been ignored in the past, but, dammit, Sidekick, this is too far. Keep fighting, don’t give up, and let me help you.”

“I…” Sidekick let a hand curl into Doctor’s scrubs. “I don’t want to die. Doctor, please, help me. I… I don’t—”

A low groan rang out in front of her. General struggled to focus on the officer thrown on the ground a few feet ahead as she worked just to hold up her head. 

“Good morning, General.”

She glared at Villain as he stepped over Officer Finance. It took all her self-control not to curse, “Is it morning already? I haven’t slept that well in ages.”

Villain nodded thoughtfully, “Yes, being drugged will generally do that to you.” He tapped a single curled finger under her chin and pushed a stray bit of hair from her face. The fury clenched in his jaw eased as it dripped into bitter amusement. 

General waited. Villain wouldn’t keep up the act for long. Officer Finance groaned at their feet as blood stained what was left of the soles of General’s shoes. 

“Well, you seem to be wide awake and bushy-tailed now. And, I do believe that your officer here has a few questions to ask you.” Villain hauled Officer Finance up to kneel on his knees, so close that his bangs nearly brushed against General’s leg. “Go on, now. Ask them.”

Officer Finance shook their head. A small drop of their blood stained General’s pants where it landed among the other dirt and grime. “No. I won’t—”

He gasped as Villain stepped into the back of his knee while pulling his shirt collar tight enough to choke. 

“O- Okay! Okay. Villain wants you to tell him where the camps are located.”

As Officer Finance finally met General’s eyes, she knew that he was prepared for her answer. “No.”

Finance’s scream as his leg broke under Villain’s weight was cut off from a lack of air.

“Come now,” Villain cooed as he stroked Finance’s hair like he was trying to soothe the pain he’d just caused. “Don’t you understand? I need you to say yes. Your officer needs you to answer his questions so he doesn’t have to hurt. It’s simple, easy. I believe in you, General. You’ll get this next one right.”

Villain knelt next to Officer Finance, his grip on the officer’s shirt releasing to allow him to breathe finally. He took advantage of the officer’s weakness from pain and lack of oxygen to lift his hand by his wrist and hold it in front of General. His other arm wrapped around Finance to keep him upright as he pressed the point of a knife against the center of his open palm. 

Officer Finance didn’t wait to be told what to do. “Who is leading the task of monitoring Villain’s movements?”

General snarled at Villain as she bit out a fierce, “I refuse to tell you anything, Villain. You cannot win.”

She could hear the knife grate against bone as it impaled Finance’s hand. 

Five more questions. Five more denials. General thought she was going to be sick before Finance finally lost consciousness. He had already been beaten bloody before she had woken, and now, because of her refusal…

“How boring.” Villain dropped Officer Finance to the ground. He snapped blood-slicked fingers at the henchman hovering by the table of tools. “Clean up this mess. I don’t care how. Make them do it, if you want. Put her back to sleep for a while. I need to change.”

“Still holding with your foolish, cheerful plan?” Whumper growled as their henchman wheeled in a table of tools. “You have no clue how long you’ve been here. Days, months? Why do you hold on to hope? No one is coming to save you.”

Stumbling to their feet, whumpee shifted to look at the items that had been brought in. Whumper assumed they didn’t want them to notice how they kept plenty of space between them and the bloodstained chair bolted to the floor. “Why rush it? I can walk out of here with my team any time.”

One nod from Whumper, and Whumpee folded painfully as Henchman’s knee slammed into their gut. They kicked Whumpee’s legs out from under them, laughing as they hit the floor hard. Between hits, Whumpee would look up at Whumper and smile, blood staining their teeth. 

“I knee-d you to stop doing that.” Whumpee huffed as Henchman’s knee slammed into their chin, sending them flying back against the chair. 

Whumper didn’t bother looking back as they listened to the sounds of Whumpee being strapped down in the chair. They knew what they would see. They wouldn’t give Whumpee the pleasure of seeing their frustration at the lack of a serious reaction to the beating. 

“Pretend all you like. I will break you, Whumpee. Make your little jokes and hide behind fake smiling masks. You will suffer until you no longer remember what it is not to feel pain.”

Whumpee shrugged as much as their bindings would let them. “Eh, I’ve never been one for masks. They really have no face value. Get it? No face? Masks hide your face.”

Enough was enough. Today would be the day they left whumpee a pitiful sobbing mess. There would be no sarcastic jokes mocking their exit despite the blood pooling on the floor. This time, Whumper wasn’t going to stop until Whumpee’s spirit was broken, or they breathed their final breath.

“Why don’t you try ripping my eyes out?” Whumpee’s bright tone stood in sharp contrast to their sickening words. “I really can’t see myself moving forward without my eyes.”

The hammer was heavy in their hands as Whumper turned back to glare at Whumpee. 

“Ooo, now we’re getting serious.” The way they shifted in their chair gave away Whumpee’s anxiety, but they didn’t look away. “Trying to hammer in your point? Nail down your ideals and turn me away from the light?”

“I am going to break every bone in your hand.”

“Oh! Hey, I’ve got one for that. What do you call two spine bones that are best friends? Vertibros!”

The hammer came down on Whumpee’s hand, crushing the delicate bones. “You’re off your game. Weak. That one wasn’t hand or hammer related.”

“B, bones.” Whumpee gasped. They pulled against their bindings, eyes closed from the pain. A small whimper escaped their lips. Soft for now, but Whumper knew how loud their cries could get. “You really don’t like my jokes? Man. I spent the whole night coming up with these puns, but I guess it was all in veins.”

Bang! The hammer hit the floor as Whumper punched Whumpee in the jaw. If they hadn’t dropped the tool, the hit likely would have killed their prisoner. However, that would be letting them off too easily. Besides, as long as they had Whumpee, they had the best weapon anyone could find to keep the so-called “good guys” out of the way. But when they did eventually kill Whumpee, they were going to enjoy every second of it. 

“Wh… What time, time does a d-dentist go to work?” Whumpee’s smile was more like a grimace as they spat a tooth on the floor at Whumper’s feet. “Tooth-thirty.”

Knife, nail gun, whip, pliers, etc. There were so many choices on the table as Whumper pulled it closer to Whumpee’s hunched form. They were weak. When they’d first been sat in the chair, it had taken hours for them to stutter and stumble over their words like that. One good push is all it should take.

The nail gun was heavy in Whumper’s hand as they lifted it from the table and slammed a nail into the top of Whumpee’s knee. 

A horrified scream filled the room, followed by harsh silence. No puns. No victorious grins. 

Whumper lined up the gun with the side of the same knee.

“...no,” Whumpee whispered.

The nail pierced their skin and slid into the space between the bones. 

Vomiting over the side of their chair, Whumpee barely managed to take their eyes off their useless leg. They continually mocked and joked about how they would walk away from whatever Whumper did to them. This time, they may never walk again.

Whumper turned to Henchman. “Get them up.”

It seemed the haunting smile was gone. Not a single joke was uttered as Henchman released them from the chair and yanked them to their feet. 

“Walk to the door, Whumpee.” Whumper sighed, stepping into Whumpee’s space and wielding the nail gun between them. They reveled in the way Whumpee flinched away. “Walk to the door, and I’ll let you go right now.”

They didn’t make it a single step. 

Whumpee collapsed the moment they put weight on the seriously injured leg. They screamed as they hit the floor, body trembling. Cradling their broken hand to their chest, Whumpee tried to push through their older injuries from the past several days and drag themselves to the door. 

A third nail pierced through the back of Whumpee’s other knee as Whumper leaned over them to growl, “I said walk. Not crawl like a dog.”

“Stop.” Whumpee’s voice quivered, “I… I can’t…”

Grimacing at the stains on their shoe, Whumper used their foot to roll Whumpee onto their back. Their mouth fell open at the sight of red-tinged tears cleaning narrow tracks down Whumpee’s cheeks. 

“So, that was it? Did I really make you cry?” Whumper wiped up one of their tears with their thumb and wiped it on what was left of Whumpee’s shirt. “You’re done, Whumpee, but I’m not.”

General’s backup would be too late if they were even coming at all. Villain had inside information he shouldn’t have known about. Chances were, if he’d known where to find their meeting, he likely also knew where and how they would send out for help. He knew to spare her and her five executive officers. They were so rarely all together, but he had attacked on the one night they were. She had no doubt he had taken precautions to ensure his threat was inescapable.

Stepping over the body of a fallen soldier, General made sure she had Villain’s attention. “We surrender. We won’t fight.”

Villain turned and walked off. “Take them.”

The indignant cries of her officers made General’s chest ache. None of them resisted until the henchmen took advantage of their inaction. They held her arms tightly so she couldn’t turn to witness the beating she had doomed her officers to. She blinked back the tears in her eyes as Officer Logistics was thrown on the ground at her feet, unconscious and bloody.

Dropping with dead weight to break the hold on her arms, General reached for Logistics, desperate to confirm he was still alive. 

“You try that again, and you’ll be dead before you hit the ground.” One of the goons screamed. She slammed her boot into General’s chest, sending her sprawling. With a snarl of hatred, the woman sat on General’s stomach and punched her in the jaw, the nose, the…

“Hey!” The other goon pulled the woman off her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? We need her.”

As the goons threw a bag over her head, General made a promise to herself and her officers: once she escaped, she was going to find the traitor and make them pay for their suffering. She would make them bleed for every fallen man.

—000—

“Welcome home.” Villain’s voice cut through the darkness as General lurched awake. 

The rough, woven bag over her head made it even harder to keep her breathing level. She was sitting up, tied to a cold metal chair, and could hear the movement of others surrounding her. The gag in her mouth was likely the same as the ones muffling the familiar voices of her officers behind her.

“You will give us information. It is the only reason you are still alive. The more you tell us, the less we will have to hurt you. Consider your answers carefully, as lies will be punished severely.”

With a rough jerk, Villain ripped the bag from General’s head. “You are on the war council. You will tell me…” 

General cocked her head to the side as Villain’s monologue trailed off and took in the twisted look on his face. Fury made his eye twitch and his lip curled up in a deep snarl that almost made her laugh.

“Who?” His voice was sharp as he turned to the two henchmen standing nearby. 

Wordlessly, one of the men split away and walked somewhere behind General’s chair. The shrill screech of a metal door opening and closing made her flinch. This time, as the henchman walked back, several footsteps accompanied them. Not all of them sounded steady. 

Before long, the two goons who had captured and beaten General were shoved to their knees in front of the two henchmen. Their hands were tied behind their backs, and they both looked pale. They barely seemed able to meet Villain’s eye.

“I’m sorry, Villain.” The woman blubbered as the henchman behind her shoved her face down on the floor. “I didn’t know—”

“You attended the mandatory briefings, did you not? You were informed that General was not to be harmed.”

“Yes. Yes, I went to the briefings, but—”

“Enough.” Villain waved his hand, and the henchman placed a foot on the woman’s lower back before wrenching her head up with her hair. The small, pleased smile on Villain’s face was the last thing the woman saw as the henchman slit her throat.

General didn’t look away from the brutal display of power. Her officers could see her. Officer Personnel’s muffled screams and Officer Operations' shushing coos made it clear they weren’t blindfolded. She wouldn’t let them know she was afraid by turning her head as the goon slowly bled to death. 

Villain turned to the second goon. “You were complicit in this?” 

“Sir, I didn’t harm the woman. I didn’t know she was going to attack General. I made her stop before she could do any more damage.”

With a slow understanding nod, Villain pulled the gun from a holster at his hip and shot the second goon through the heart. “You should have been more prepared—stopped her before any damage was done.”

As the two goons who had assisted the henchman in bringing in the now dead victims collected the bodies, Villain tucked away his gun and turned back to General. 

“This is pointless, Villain.” General sighed, attempting to portray indifference. “I won’t be answering your questions, and you can’t torture me to try to force the information out. You can’t use me as a bargaining chip, ransoming my return, if you can’t prove I’m alive and unharmed.”

Villain sighed and motioned to the second henchman. He immediately injected something into General’s neck. 

The medics tried several different tactics to get them to go back to their uncomfortable cot, but none of them worked. Leaving Caretaker’s meal on the far side of the bed meant the meal went uneaten. They had recovered enough to fight anyone, including Friend, who tried to carry them away from their vigil physically. Not to mention that the years of… training… meant Caretaker instantly woke from even the deepest sleep the moment someone entered the room.

“Please, Caretaker.” Friend begged as Caretaker bent with their head between their knees. Nausea and coughing weren’t a good combination, and Caretaker wouldn’t risk any of their germs getting on Whumpee. “It’s 6 feet away. You’ll be between them and the door. Just… lie down. You’re still sick.”

Caretaker didn’t bother with a response. They never did. Words were unnecessary when their point was made by sitting silently. 

—000—

When Whumpee started to show signs of waking up, Caretaker could barely stand to let even the Medics close enough to take Whumpee’s vitals. They refused to fail to protect them again. Never again. Caretaker would die first.

But Whumpee didn’t wake up. 

—000—

Friend sat on the edge of Whumpee’s bed, ignoring how Caretaker growled at them. “Do you understand, Caretaker? The last day of the trial is today. In just a few hours, the judge will announce Whumper’s sentence for their crimes. You should come with me. Please?”

Caretaker settled further into their uncomfortable chair and resumed stroking their gloved thumb over Whumpee’s hand. Even through the latex gloves, they could feel how cold Whumpee’s skin was. They would have to ask for another blanket when a medic came through. 

—000—

Shaky hands adjusted the way Whumpee’s IV was resting. Caretaker had found themselves struggling not to vomit when Whumpee’s ventilator was removed. Even though it had been nearly an hour since it had happened, stress continued to roll down Caretaker’s spine in salty sweat drops. If only the thin blanket they had clenched tightly around their freezing shoulders was enough to soak it all up and keep them from feeling like they were drowning in a freezing river of water.

They startled when a hand brushed across their brow.

“Your fever is back. You’ve undone all the progress you’d made. Are you happy?” Friend asked.

“No.”

Friend jumped at the whispered response. “Please, Caretaker. Lie down for an hour, a few minutes, I don’t care how long, just take a step back and let yourself heal.”

“I can’t!” Caretaker yelled as loudly as their hoarse lungs would allow. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Friend’s voice didn’t seem argumentative or angry. There was too much hope left in their eyes for that.

“I can’t. I don’t deserve it.”

“Don’t deserve what? Help me understand. Show me what I can do to help you.”

Caretaker shook their head. “There’s nothing groundbreaking about it. I can’t leave them. Not this time. I won’t.”

Humming a questioning sound, Friend knelt in front of Caretaker. Much to both of their surprise, Caretaker didn’t complain when Friend shifted the chair to kneel face to face with them at Caretaker’s feet. 

“I won’t lose them, too. I made a promise I would keep them safe. As Past Whumpee lay dying in my arms. It was a pact made in blood, and I managed to break it in every way possible.” Caretaker flinched when Friend’s hand touched theirs. “They trusted me to take care of them when Whumper had us, and I let them die. Now, the one person they made me swear on my life to keep as far away from Whumper as possible has almost died because of them. How can I look them in the eyes? I have to do something to earn the right to see them again.”

—000—

Screams woke Caretaker from their nightmare. 

No. No. No. Caretaker wasn’t at Whumpee’s side. Someone had moved them back to their bed. This was their fault.

Another piercing cry stabbed through Caretaker’s chest as their legs gave out from under them. They couldn’t reach Whumpee like this. Medics had Whumpee surrounded, and all Caretaker could see of them was a single twitching hand pulled to the side to expose the dark veins.

“Get away from them!” Caretaker growled as they shouldered their way through the crowd. “Whumpee, it’s okay. I’m here.”

Breaths, sharp and stuttering, and the lack thereof made Caretaker’s head spin. They practically slammed against the bed in their rush to get to them. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

“Caretaker?” Whumpee asked, their voice rough and mouth dry. “Please, don’t let them take me. Don’t let me be like the others. I don’t want to leave you all alone.”

This time, when Caretaker’s knees fell out from under them, strange hands caught them and held them high enough to look down at Whumpee’s frightened face. And, for some reason, Caretaker didn’t seem to care that they needed the help.

“Whumper is gone, Whumpee.” Caretaker ignored the tears streaming down their cheeks. It was the first time they’d allowed themselves to openly sob in front of others since it happened. “We got them. Just take a deep breath. I promise, they won’t ever touch you again. You’re under my protection.” 

They threw themselves forward, but it wasn’t enough. Whumpee collapsed just inside the entrance to the alley by their building. They didn’t have the strength to so much as pull themselves up against the wall to rest. Without a phone or bandages, this is where Whumpee was going to die.

It could be worse, they supposed. The pain was easing, and Whumper wasn’t there to mock them for their pitiful weakness. Relatively safe, dry except for the blood; a little cold, though that was likely from the blood loss. Not a bad place to die.

“Holy—” A voice was cursing far too close to Whumpee’s side. “—you hear me? Let me turn you over. The bleeding needs to be stopped, and I can’t help you like this.”

Whumpee tasted blood as they bit down on the inside of their cheek, teeth reopening the wounds already there and flooding their mouth. Each scream dangerously wrenched up their throat was smothered until all that was left were faint whimpers. Again and again, each new positioning of the stranger's fingers seemed to press in the key to agony. 

The dull ringing in Whumpee’s ears turned to the stranger’s voice as the movement finally stopped. “Breathe. Do you understand? You need to breathe.”

Hmm. How does one breathe again? Whumpee couldn’t remember. They couldn’t figure out what they needed to do to keep their eyes open, like the stranger kept demanding. Perhaps if they rested, they would remember? Their body would breathe, blink, move, and do all the other things they could do before.

New pressure seared down their throat and filled their chest enough to make it rise. Air, precious air. Why did it hurt?

Whumpee’s eyes opened. The stranger pulled away, but they could still feel the lingering heat of the person’s lips on theirs. 

They could breathe again. Whumpee intentionally pulled the filthy alleyway air into their lungs. Each twinging movement of the muscles in their chest as their chest slowly expanded to accommodate was a relief as they…

They choked. No cough could dislodge the thick fluid that filled the back of their mouth. Whumpee couldn’t force a cough even if it would help.

And the stranger saw. Their brow furrowed as they rolled Whumpee onto their side and nearly all the way to their stomach. One of their arms draped under Whumpee to support their chest and cradle their chin as they held Whumpee over a smaller, separate puddle of blood. They ignored the way Whumpee twitched and faintly pushed away from them to stick one already blood-covered finger into Whumpee’s mouth and scrape out the nearly black fluid blocking their airway.

When the stranger finally rolled Whumpee onto their back once more, the sound of squealing brakes filled the silence. “Hey! I got here as fast as I could. The first aid kit is in the back. Let’s get them in.”

Hero cursed under their breath as they fought to pull themselves free of the sludge before the gap between them became insurmountable. Their right shoe was suctioned below the surface, and even the gun they’d been holding when they fell took a strong yank to remove. With their shirt also covered, all Hero could do was attempt to gain enough of a grip through the mud to cock the weapon and aim to hobble Villain rather than killing them. 

The muted force of the gun firing sent mud back into Hero’s face. The bullet casing flew out of the weapon, but there wasn’t any sign of damage to Villain or nearby trees from the bullet. Hero cursed again. If the mud had thrown the alignment off that badly, it wouldn’t be much use as a long-range weapon outside of unachievable threats.

Tucking the weapon in its holster, Hero took off after Villain for the fourth time that evening. The land tilted down, and both were forced to slow down for fear of falling and sliding uncontrollably. Down further and further, until… it turned straight up. 

Hero could hear low curses dripping from Villain’s lips as their cornered enemy searched for an escape. To either side, there was a little room to run, but between the narrowing of the space between trees and the drop-off curving oddly back toward where they’d come, there was nowhere to go. They were trapped.

“Surrender, Villain.” Hero called as they drew their dirty weapon. Accurate or not, it seemed a good enough threat to intimidate and prevent Hero from having to fight them hand to hand.

Villain laughed, “To you? No. You’re nothing. I think I’d rather fight.”

Closer now, Villain stood tall to their full height. They were stronger than Hero physically, but Hero always used their speed and weapons to keep them at bay. Without any backup, Villain seemed all too confident they could overwhelm them and continued to take measured steps toward Hero. 

Hero pulled the trigger on the gun.

Boom! The gun burst apart in their hands. 

The damaged bullet from before had never left the barrel of the filthy gun. Flames, quick to dissipate but burning hot, scorched Hero’s fingers closest to the impact point. Pieces of the weapon flew in nearly every direction as Hero’s wrist cracked, and one of the bones in their arm broke under the pressure. Their broken arm jarred out of its socket as the handle of the gun flew back and hit their shoulder. 

As Hero cried out in pain, Villain laughed, “Did that really just happen? Lucky me!”

Villain landed a cruel blow to Hero’s gut. They seemed to almost revel in the way Hero folded over their fist. One of their hands tangled into Hero’s hair, using it to keep them from collapsing. 

At least Villain was proving to be the greater fool. They’d given Hero what they seemed to think would be an impossible choice, but everyone else knew better. The first bullet had blasted through Sidekick's leg, leaving them unable to escape, at the same time as Villain revealed the location of the bomb. Even the reporters with their death-seeking cameras turned away from Sidekick to watch Hero save the towering building.

It was okay. Villain would be angry Hero didn’t hesitate. They would make Sidekick’s death quick. It was likely the best outcome they could hope for in this career.

The hand that caught their arm was rough, but it kept them from hitting their head as the last of their strength gave out. The helpless way they sagged toward the hard ground would likely make up for some of Villain’s disappointment if their yelp had drawn the attention of one or two of the reporters away from Hero’s work. Pain snapped through their whole body. Their eyes, which had closed at some point, snapped open to fix on the figure standing over them.

“It’s going to be okay.” Hero said, lowering Sidekick gently to the ground. “You’re going to be alright.”

“What… What are y-you doing?” Sidekick gasped. “You have to, you have to hurry. The bomb.”

Villain fired a shot that Hero easily blocked. “So this is the choice you made, hmm? Are you really willing to sacrifice a whole building full of people to save them?”