THIS WHUMPBLR IS RADICALLY PRO TRANSGENDER!!

They stopped by one of the training rooms, a place Zander was well acquainted with. These rooms didn’t have doors, so Cain just stood in the doorway, watching the handler carry out the session. Zander stared at the floor, focused on dark spot in the concrete, wishing he could tune out the sound of someone shrieking as they were shocked by their shock collar. He counted the seconds until it stopped, the trainee left breathing heavily, whimpering as they struggled to catch their breath. He only looked up when the handler approached them, giving the poor trainee a brief moment of respite in their torture. Zander used to pray for moments like those. He didn’t immediately recognize the man, he never did, but he didn’t like the look of him, that smug look on his face. He enjoyed his job too much, Zander thought.

“Evenin’ Mr. Whitaker. Somethin’ I can do for ya?” He asked, sparing a glance at Zander who was now looking at him with wide eyes. He didn’t recognize his face right away, but that voice, he knew that voice anywhere, he still heard it in his nightmares.

“No, I’m just checking things out.” Cain told him. “Has this one been giving you trouble?” He asked, motioning to the trainee.

“Ah, nothing too serious.” He said, waving his hand dismissively. “You know how it is, sometimes you just gotta shock them back into shape. Had to use that method an awful lot on your mutt there.” He grinned, looking directly at Zander. However Cain replied, Zander didn’t hear it, all he could hear was the sound of his own heart pounding. All the worst memories of that place hit him at once, he felt like he’d run face first into a brick wall. Being recorded as he was forced to lick his boots, the soap he’d shoved in his mouth, shocking him until he fell unconscious, being beaten, spit on, taunted, Emerson was always there, bypassing the supposed reason of “training” and going straight into cruel entertainment.

Zander didn’t remember attacking Emerson. One moment he was at Cain’s side, and the next both he and Emerson were on the floor, Zander slamming his fist into his face over and over and over again. There was blood on his hand. Emerson was trying to fight him off, while Zander split his knuckles on his teeth, and he kept going despite the pain. He thought Cain might’ve been yelling at him, but he couldn’t really hear him over his own shouting.

“Fuck you! Fuck you! You fucking piece of shit!” He screamed in his face. He could see the fear in his eyes, he never knew it could be so satisfying to see somebody afraid of him. Emerson tried to fight him off, he tried to hit him in the face, but as soon as his hand was close Zander snapped, catching his finger in his mouth. He bit down as hard as he could, he could’ve sworn he’d heard a sickening crunch before Emerson screamed in pain. There was blood in his mouth when he finally wrenched his hand free, and Zander spit it in his face, he almost laughed at him, he looked as awful as Zander had felt all that time he was there.

His attack didn’t last much longer. An arm was locked around his throat, he thought it might’ve been Cain until he was roughly yanked off of Emerson. He knew Cain wasn’t strong enough to do that. He was dragged out of the room, the whole time he fought, clawing at the arm keeping him from further brutalizing the man. He could see Emerson struggling to sit up, he wanted nothing more than to kick him back down, just like he’d done to him so many times before.

“Where’s his collar?” The man asked Cain, sounding irritated. “Why didn’t you shock him?” Rinaldi, Zander thought, of course. While Emerson was certainly worse than the head trainer in terms of cruelty, that didn’t make Rinaldi all that much better.

“He doesn’t wear one, he- he can’t.” Cain said. He looked shaken by the attack, he was staring at Zander with wide eyes. For a moment, the mask had dropped. He knew Cain always maintained a strict facade of being calm and in control when around here, but he looked horrified.

“What? He’s a fucking animal, Cain, didn’t your father teach you better?” He snapped at him, and Zander saw Cain quickly recover. He knew he couldn’t stand to have his authority and methods of handling Zander questioned.

“Due to excess use during his training,” He started, talking down to the older man, “It became more of a hazard to his body than a means of control. I’ve brought him around here plenty of times and this has never happened, it didn’t seem necessary.” If Rinaldi had an issue with that, he didn’t say so, finally dropping Zander as he’d quit struggling. He’d been running on adrenaline and now he was crashing, he felt weak, shaky, taking slow, deep breaths. He saw Emerson finally stumble out of the room, his face looked awful, broken nose, busted lip, one eye was already nearly swollen shut. Zander wished he’d gotten both eyes. He wished he’d knocked his teeth out. He wished he’d given him more than just a small fraction of what Emerson had done to him.

“You need to have that fucking mutt put down.” Emerson snarled at Cain, who turned his glare to him.

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion, Waylon.” He said coldly. Cain only used people’s first names when he didn’t respect them. Zander almost started laughing. Even through his injuries, he could see Emerson was furious, but even he wasn’t stupid enough to snap at Cain.

“Can you stand?” Cain asked Zander, and he nodded, taking a deep breath before forcing himself up. His legs were shaking, and there were cuts across his knuckles, but other than that, he was perfectly fine. It felt like a victory, walking away with just scrapes while Emerson looked like that. It felt even better than winning in the ring. Rinaldi was glaring at him, but Zander didn’t want to meet his eye. He hated to admit it, but the man still scared him, he still felt like he was in trouble when he looked at him, like that horrible collar would go off at any moment, despite the fact he didn’t even wear it anymore.

Cain ordered the two men to get back to work- the look on Emerson’s face made Zander really want to laugh- before leaving with Zander. He technically still had more to do, but Zander assumed he wanted to get his punishment over with at home. As good as it felt, he knew he most likely would be paying for it some way or another. He didn’t care what it would be though, he already knew it was worth it. Cain was quiet on the ride home, he looked like he was lost in thought, and he didn’t speak to Zander again until they’d gotten through the door.

“Zander…” He started, shutting the door behind them.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m going.” He sighed, walking towards the hall.

“No, Zander, stop.” He told him, and he did, he turned to face him. Cain looked deeply concerned, Zander wasn’t sure he’d ever even seen him look like this before. “What… what did he do to you?” He asked. Somehow, this felt worse than whatever punishment could’ve been waiting for him. Zander just stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to say. Why should he tell him? He didn’t really want to hear Cain laugh at some of his worst memories too.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll be in the room.” He tried to turn around again, but this time Cain grabbed him by the arm.

“I’m not going to punish you.” He said, and Zander narrowed his eyes. This felt like a trick, Cain wasn’t like this, merciful, sympathetic.

“I’m not going to tell you. It doesn’t matter. Why do you fucking care anyway?” He asked, jerking his arm away, and Cain glared at him.

“I don’t care, I just- fuck, I don’t think I’ve even see you do that in the ring.”

“He deserved it. Those people don’t.” He shrugged. “Now leave me alone.” He started walking back to his cell. He’d feel safer there.

“I’m trying to fucking talk to you!” Cain snapped at him.

“Well I don’t want to talk!” He snapped back. He stormed off to his cell, Cain following behind him. He couldn’t shut the door to the cell himself, so he went into his bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it. He felt a little like a kid throwing a tantrum, but it was also nice to exercise some control in this situation. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down as he stood with his back against the door.

Across from him was the mirror, for the first time since the incident he saw his reflection. He looked about as disheveled as he normally looked, but there was blood on his hands, on his face even. His teeth were stained with it, he wondered how much damage he had really done to his finger. He wished he’d bitten his thumb clean off, remembering how he’d stand there, thumb resting on the remote to Zander’s shock collar, holding the button down for so long Zander thought it would kill him. Some days he’d wished it had.