Caretaker squeezes through the narrow window, following Leader into the dark warehouse.
The dim streetlights only reach so far, and most of the space is cast in deep shadow. The moon shines in through a skylight, illuminating a figure on the floor near a pillar.
"Whumpee?" Leader hisses, leaping to the ground.
Whumpee's head whips up, their eyes wide with fear. The cool light only makes the bruises across their face darker, starker. Caretaker rushes forwards, startled when Whumpee's face twists and they shake their head furiously.
They're gagged. Caretaker drops to their knees in front of Whumpee, tugging the gag out of their mouth as gently as they can, wincing sympathetically as it tugs at the dried blood caked to their skin.
Whumpee's speaking almost before the gag is off.
"It's a trap!" they shout, hoarse. "Get out of here, please—"
They're interrupted by a dull thunk, and a new dark spot blooms on their shirt.
"Wha—" Caretaker starts, catching Whumpee as they list to the side.
"Caretaker." Leader's voice is urgent, and Caretaker reaches for their holstered weapon on automatic as they turn.
People melt out of the shadows, dressed in black and masked, weapons glinting in their hands. And leading the pack—Whumper. The silenced pistol in their hand is still pointed at Whumpee, like Leader and Caretaker aren't even threats.
Caretaker stands and places themself between Whumpee (whose breath is wheezy and wet but still coming, thank God, they're still breathing) and the monster who stole them away, trembling with rage.
"Leader is mine," Whumper says, sounding bored. "Kill the spares."
