Whump Happens

But this time, something was different.

Unlike the others, Whumpee didn’t groan, stand up and join the rest in the circle of light provided by the single, hanging lightbulb, but instead silently propped himself up against the bare concrete wall next to the door, breathing heavily.

“Whumpee?” asked Leader, “Everything OK?”

“Yeah,” Whumpee answered steadily, but Medic has treated this team of stubborn idiots enough to realize something was wrong.

“What is it?” he asked. “What did they do?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

Medic exchanged looks with Leader and they rushed to Whumpee’s side, ignoring his protests.

“Dammit, Whumpee!” Leader swore as he reached for Whumpee in the dark and felt something warm and wet.

“I’m fine,” insisted Whumpee, “It’s nothing.”

“We’ll see about that,” Medic frowned. “Help me bring him into the light.”

As they half-carried, half-dragged Whumpee across the room, Medic felt the blood flow from his stomach. The rate of it was a very bad sign.

Second-in-command gasped as Whumpee finally came into view. “What th-the fuck happened, Whumpee?” their tongue still spasming after the electrical shock they received.

Whumpee sighed as Leader lay his head across his lap. “I might have pissed Whumper off a little.”

Whumpee really did look horrible, paler than Medic has ever seen him, the blood streaming from the deep gash in his abdomen colouring his torso and pants a dark, unsettling red.

Leader already had his shirt off, bundling it up to press against the wound, but medic stopped him and examined Whumpee closer, careful not to touch him and risk an infection. Suddenly he stood, stomped in front of the camera over the door and started yelling.

“Hey!” he waived his fist at the camera. “Do you have any idea what the FUCK you did, you son of a bitch? Get us medical supplies in here, or he’s gonna bleed the fuck out, you hear me?? I bet you don’t want that to happen, otherwise you would have just finished the fucking job, right??”

Youngest exchanged looks with the rest of the team as he helped Leader apply pressure to the wound. He had never seen Medic so angry, and by the looks on their faces, neither had the others.

Medic continued shouting abuse at the camera as Whumpee’s breath became more and more laboured.

“Medic!” called Second-in-command anxiously. “Do something!”

Just then a small latch in the door opened, and a tray was pushed through it. Medic grabbed it and hurried to kneel at Whumpee’s side. He checked the supplies – Thread, a needle, a few bandages in filthy plastic wrappings, half a bottle of antiseptic, and… nothing. No pain relief, no anaesthesia. He met Whumpee’s eyes with a worried look.

“I can’t do it,” He said. “Not without anything for the pain.”

“Just do it,” said Whumpee.

“I can’t, there are a lot of nerves there, the pain will be-“

“Just do it!” interrupted Whumpee loudly and winced.

Medic thought for a second. “OK,” he said. “Leader, hold onto his shoulders, make sure he can’t move them or jump up. Youngest, Teammate A, sit on his legs, pin them down. Teammate B, Second-in-command, grab the arms.”

Everyone took their positions. Medic cleaned his hands and placed one of the folded bandages in Whumpee’s mouth to stop him from biting his tongue.

“Ready?” Medic asked, Whumpee gave a short, decisive nod.

Whumpee’s eyes widened as Medic began with the first stitch. He instinctively tried to curl up and protect himself, but the team held him down. By the fourth stitch, Whumpee started screaming, the sound muffled by the bandage in his mouth. By the ninth stitch, Medic was yelling at Youngest to distract Whumpee. By the sixteenth, Whumpee’s arm somehow got free from under Second-in-command and Medic barely avoided getting hit by the flailing limb before it was caught again. By the last, nineteenth stitch, everyone was sweating and breathing heavily.

Medic finished bandaging the wound and motioned for everyone to let go of Whumpee. Whumpee spat out the bandage.

“A piece… a piece of cake,” he smiled weekly.