<prev | Sapphire Masterlist | A collab with @paingoes!

Tags: electricity torture, cattle prod, physical abuse, interrogation, captivity, living weapon, sadistic whumper, conditioned-but-defiant whumpee | Words: 3.5k

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The lattice across his back healed slowly over the following days. It ached still, but it was constant enough that it ended up fading into background noise. Delta tried not to move so much. Luckily, the chains made that easy.

Everyday, it was the same question. The same request. The same order. He refused them each time. The response came automatically; something ingrained so deeply into his brain that it worked without being summoned.

I belong to Empire. This won’t change. I can’t help you. I’m sorry.

He had to believe it wasn’t a choice — and believing it wasn’t a choice was something that came extremely natural to him.

Delta held out. Endurance too came naturally to him. Taking punishments he didn’t deserve, accepting a pain he could not escape, being told it was his fault for not complying — what was this, fucking kindergarten?

He was bored. Almost more than he was scared, more than he was hurt, he was bored. His wrists hadn’t been unchained for more than five minutes at a time for as long as he’d been here. Most of the time he just stared at the wall, slowly growing more irritated, but never building to anything. He’d never been one for outbursts. He never would be.

All he could do was wait.

Yoojin was restless that day. Itchy in his head—more than usual.

He’d tried again with Amira, pushing her to let him at the pretty blue thing she had chained up in that cell at the back of the ship. To his surprise and delight, she’d finally relented. Desperation had made her flexible.

“Guess she finally got tired of going easy on you,” Yoojin teased as the heavy door slid open. 

“That’s right!” Yoojin threw his hand up in dramatic, mock celebration. “Today’s the day!”

Yoojin approached Delta’s cell, swinging his nightstick through the air as he walked until it hit the bars with a loud clang. 

Delta barely suppressed a groan. He recognized the voice immediately, long before he came into view. That one had been by a few times by now, each visit about equally insufferable. He was a nuisance, one in a long series of nuisances. 

He still shuddered at the sight of the nightstick.

“Ohh I finally get to hit youu,” he sang, there was an almost giddy joy to it. “I’ve been waiting for this.”

Had she really signed off on that?

Delta didn’t look Yoojin in the eyes, nor give any other indication that he’d even noticed him.

Yoojin frowned, sticking his lip out in a mocking pout. “You don’t even wanna say hi?”

He reached into his pocket. “Look, I even got the keeeeys,” he chided, jingling the keys like he was getting a dog’s attention. 

He sheathed his nightstick and tucked it into his belt, unlocking the cell and stepping inside. Immediately, the urge hit him. He didn’t even think before he swung his boot into Delta’s ribs. He couldn’t help it. It was too fucking easy. He was right there. There was absolutely nothing he could do. Maybe this would get Yoojin the nice polite greeting he felt he was owed.

Delta maintained the silence up until the point he was hit — and then a little while after that.

He keeled forward slightly from the pain. It drew a breath from him, but no cry. Again, he was used to taking it quietly. His hair fell into his face as he leaned forward, obscuring his vision. He was almost glad for it — in the moment, it worked like a veil.

Yoojin kicked him a few more times for good measure, just to work some energy out. He pressed Delta’s head firmly into the floor with his foot, fumbling with the keys a moment until he found the right one. 

He unlocked the chain that held Delta’s wristcuffs to the floor, but left the chain on the collar hanging free.

The motion absolutely jarred him. Delta winced as his head was practically fucking stomped on to force him to the floor again. He was getting used to it, unfortunately. Used to the fact that they did not trust him enough to be unrestrained for a single second, despite the fact he had shown them no resistance at all.

Yoojin gave the chain a hard yank, pulling Delta back up by the collar. 

“You can walk out or I can drag you out. Wanna guess which one I pick?”

He scrambled up to his feet. Yoojin was more likely to break his fucking neck than anything else — a definite violation of the rules, but Delta would be dead by the time anyone faced any consequences for it.

He didn’t like the chain. It wasn’t that he was unfamiliar with it. Paris had him wearing it before, and the Emperor before that. But it had never been such a threat the way it was now. Neither of them had actually pulled it. 

His legs were weak from disuse, and he stumbled slightly as he was led out from the cell.

Yoojin cracked a smile when Delta started moving. That got his attention. Yoojin was fine with that. If brutal violence was what it took, Amira had sent the best man for the job. 

Yoojin half led, half pulled Delta from the cell to the adjacent wall. Another bolt. Another chain. Higher this time. So Delta’s hands could go above him. Yoojin pushed him to face the wall. “I’m sure you know not to fucking try anything.”  There was a note of challenge in his voice. Go on, give me a reason to really fuck you up.

“Yes, sir,” he muttered into the wall, exasperated. It was more instinct than anything, no thought required. Yes, he knew not to fucking try anything. Maybe they were starting to understand him.

Yoojin unshackled one of Delta’s wrists. Without giving him a chance to do it himself, Yoojin yanked Delta's wrists up, locking them to the chain above his head. He spun Delta around again, gripping his shoulder and whirling him around like a ballerina. The chain on Delta’s collar clattered to the floor. It was fun to tug on, but it would only get in the way of what Yoojin was about to do next. 

Delta hated the feeling of Yoojin’s hands on him — anywhere by his hands, by his wrists. Anywhere at all, really. Delta was tired of him already. He held still as the chains were rearranged, as he was strung up again. 

Yoojin’s nightstick cracked loud off the walls when he swung it open. 

“Oh don’t worry, I don’t even care if you give me any answers. I’m just here to have fun.”

Delta flinched reflexively at having been turned to face him, even more at the sound of the nightstick. He’d been making a concentrated effort not to even look at Yoojin — and that effort went on uninterrupted. He tucked his chin in slightly, fixing his gaze somewhere on the floor.

Was it fear? He couldn’t place the feeling. Annoyance, primarily. Dread? Delta could sense what people wanted out of him, but he decided when to give it. Right now, watching him was like staring at a sheer rock face. There was nothing there.

Delta’s stoicness presented both an irritation and a challenge. That was fine, all the better. Yoojin looked forward to making him scream. With excitement, he reared his right arm back and swung the baton, just under Delta’s ribs, right in the soft tissue just below the bone. 

He came around for a backswing, hitting his ribs again on the other side. 

Delta squeaked. He could take a beating, he knew how to, but it only occurred to him then that the others had been showing restraint. He had never been hit this hard, nor this intentionally. Not while he was restrained. It was just…cruel. He couldn’t have done anything.

Yoojin pulled the nightstick back, before jamming the center point straight into Delta’s solar plexus. 

Delta let the pain radiate inside him for a second, all through his side and his ribs. The pressure against the wall only irritated the still-healing whip wounds across his back. It was a lot. It was a lot for him to process.

Several strikes in, Yoojin stepped back, panting slightly, thinking of what to do next. Smiling, Yoojin tapped the nightstick against the side of deltas left kneecap. 

“You know what she told me? Working order. That just means your mind, right? Rest of you seems fair game.”

Delta did look at him, then. The look was…cautious, though something short of fearful. More prying than anything else. He didn’t know whether to believe it. His real fear was that Yoojin would do it whether he was allowed to or not. 

For a split second, the gaze turned pleading.

Yoojin saw Delta’s expression and latched onto it immediately, like a shark’s jaws around already-bleeding prey. Yoojin tapped his knee again—a little firmer this time, letting Delta feel the weight of it. The collapsible rod wasn’t particularly large, but the black metal was dense and heavy. He let it ring against the bone of Delta’s kneecap, hitting nerves no doubt. It wasn’t hard yet. He just wanted Delta to feel it. 

“You want me to do it?” He snickered, “You do, don’t you?” 

“…No, sir.”

It was humiliating, and his voice was quiet. He didn’t know what difference it even made, whether he begged or stayed quiet or cried or fought. He didn’t appreciate being teased — it felt like a violation of the codes which governed his life. But violation was another thing he had come to expect.

He didn’t move, for what it was worth. He felt the pressure on the nerve and held still for it. It felt like a meaningless act of defiance, some withholding of fear for no particular reason.

“That wasn’t very convincing,” Yoojin spat, and with no warning, he raised his arm and swung down, right for Delta’s knee. 

As it soared through the air, Yoojin aimed the stick slightly higher, just above the knee. Instead, it slammed into that layer of muscle and tendon that ran down the outside of Delta’s thigh. It wouldn’t break his kneecap, but it would be a really bad deadleg. 

“Fuck!” 

He sparked. A few small arcs of lightning, little lights danced on the surface of his skin. High voltage, reaching out to close the distance.

That one got him. For a few long moments, he could actually see stars. A kind of inky blackness seemed to beckon him. That bad. He was not proud of the sound that escaped him, the hiss that followed. He knew he would have collapsed if the chains had not been holding him upright. The pain right around the manacles as he struggled to support himself confirmed this thought. 

He whined softly. Not for the first time, he wondered who he was even enduring this for. For Empire? For Paris? Why was their only line of defense Delta’s own will — how was it fair to invest in that? The burden was on him, always. The unfairness of the whole situation, the unfairness of having ever been created, burned within him. A few more arcs of electricity escaped him. He was having a tantrum — the closest he ever got to it, anyway.

Yoojin's eyes shot wide—he had heard more than enough about that shockwave accident on that first week--could feel it all the way from the upmost starboard deck. But he hadn't seen it. He almost wanted to touch it but Yoojin was no stranger to the feeling of being shocked, and managed to curb the impulse. 

"That's pretty impressive lightning you got there. Bet it's even better with the collar off." He stepped towards him, yanking Delta's collar forward. "Should I?" he teased, all bluff. 

He took the chance to tilt Delta's chin up. He studied his face for a moment, then stepped back. 

"Maybe it's not as fancy as yours, but I've got some lightning of my own, you know," there was a glimmer in his eyes again, excitement burning in his shrunken pupils. 

Goddamn it. For a few seconds, he was too absorbed in his own frustration to even remember Yoojin’s presence. When it did return, it crystallized into hatred.

Delta was tempted to fall back, to argue. I didn’t do anything. But it was petulant, and more than that, it didn’t matter. Yoojin was just playing with him. It didn’t matter what he did or didn’t do. All he had to do was take it. The wave of frustration started to pass by, evaporating as he caught his breath. He was good at that.

Delta recognized the threat for what it was. He braced for it, which barely helped at all.

Yoojin raised the tip of the nightstick, not swinging it this time, just touching it to Delta's stomach. Trailing it up an inch or two, just to see what would happen. And then, he pressed the button, and there was a loud snapping, as fully-powered waves of electricity surged through the tip of the metal like a cattle prod and into Delta's bruised skin.

The pain crackled and burned. Another whimper escaped him, but it was quieter, less whiny.

“Sorry.”

Delta didn’t know what part of him said that, where the impulse came from. Just an automatic response to the pain? Goddamn, was that all he was? Just neurotic wiring, exploitable inputs? He would not last long here. It wasn’t fair to expect him to.

Yoojin's smile cracked wider when he heard that small apology. It was a tiny crack in his facade, but Yoojin would dig his fingers into it. He wanted to hear more.

"Yeah? You're sorry? I don't think I believe you yet. How about this, you tell me how sorry you are and I shock you three more times, or you can just, you know, do whatever, and you'll get 10 instead. Sound good? Yeah," he said, immediately agreeing with himself.  He pointed the tip of the stick right at the dip between Delta's collarbones. "So what's it gonna be, hm?"

Okay. He didn’t know what he’d apologized for in the first place, what he could possibly have to atone for now. He didn’t think he was sorry for the things Yoojin wanted him to be. The things he was actually sorry for were too raw and sensitive to ever risk bringing to the surface around any of them.

He went quiet, still. He understood the appearance of contrition, if nothing else.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice still low. He didn’t even need to think about it. Just another automatic response, when he wanted it to be. “I’m sorry, sir. Please. I’m sorry.”

Maddeningly nonspecific, in his opinion.

Delta's irritation was clear, but Yoojin supposed he was satisfied for now. Delta had done what he'd said. He'd get better begging out of him later. He did like the 'please' though. He hadn't expected that, not yet at least. 

 He hit the button but didn't hold it down this time, sending the electricity through the nightstick into Delta's collarbone with a loud pop.

Delta took it better this time. He cringed, slightly, but didn’t cry out or fidget. He felt like he shouldn’t now. This routine was more familiar — he appreciated having the structure back, even if he did not totally take Yoojin at his word. But he could pretend to. He could take punishment without complaining.

"Again."

The shock had knocked something over in his brain, though.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he repeated, sounding shockingly close to sincere. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t know if Yoojin wanted him hysterical, broken record, scared. It was not his first instinct to do that — only on special occasions. But he’d asked to hear it again, he’d asked to hear how sorry he was. Repetition seemed the natural answer. Still, he was cautious about going too far, becoming annoying.

"Heyy, you're getting better at this," Yoojin chided, tapping the end of the stick down along Delta's torso, considering where to hit next. 

He slid it down Delta's hipbone until it tapped against the inside of his thigh. Yoojin's eyes narrowed, considering. There was the slightest nod of his head, as if settling something with himself. 

"Here should do it. And try and sound like you actually fucking mean it this time." He held the button down, letting several long, thrilling seconds pass by.

Delta did not take it nearly as well. All his thoughts were totally nullified by the current — and the second it ended, his own voice broke out into a half-sob, gasping to regain his breath. Not quite crying — that was still a lot to ask of him. But close. 

“-sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sir, please, I’m sorry-“ 

It was torrential then. Delta didn’t know if he sounded sincere, but he knew he sounded fucking miserable. It seemed totally pointless to solicit pity here, but he recognized later that it was exactly what he was doing. 

He was shaking, a few of his own arcs still chasing him even after the prod had pulled away. It was clear he could barely support himself against the wall.

Yoojin barely stifled a cackle, thrilled with himself. "Yeah, you sound better like that." He stepped back and swiped the baton through the air. It was a little celebratory dramatic flair—What, like he couldn't celebrate? 

He was a little annoyed with himself for letting Delta off so easily. Only 3. But Delta couldn't be faulted. He was doing as ordered. Better and better with every shock, actually. Yoojin vowed to make this one really count. The money shot. 

He smirked to himself. Pointing the end of the nightstick at Delta's hip, Yoojin let it rise to his ribs, pulling up the edge of the loose-fitting tunic Delta had been permitted to wear. 

"Better make this one your best or we start over."

With no time to process the threat, Yoojin hit the button. He held it down, smiling wider. It wasn't until Delta's own electricity came close to fringing his own hair that he finally pulled it back.

There was almost no time to recover, barely any chance to get his bearings before the baton was at his hip again. He had to resist the urge not to pout, not to complain about it because it wasn’t fair, he didn’t do anything, he was behaving-

The next wave hit him and he lost all semblance of thought.

“-sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry-“

Totally automatic, as soon as he can speak again, and he was glad that that was his reflex, rather than cursing, rather than screaming. The training was coming in handy, here. He barely had to work at all. 

He did, though. About as soon as he regained conscious thought, his speech was still continuous.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, please.”

He wanted to cry. He was sure he would have, if he was anyone else. Everything hurt. This wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t fair.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he repeated instead. “Please.”

​​Yoojin's heart soared. It was pure joy. The cracking in Delta's choked voice before all the apologies spilled out of him—like a cascading waterfall—Yoojin watched with a mixture of thrill and awe. 

"You actually did pretty good on that last one, cupcake. Fixed your attitude too. Big difference a little pain makes, yeah?" It was rhetorical. 

He wanted to do it again. But right now, he knew there was no use going back on his word, not if he wanted Delta to be inclined to play in the future. He slammed the point of the nightstick straight into the concrete at his feet, collapsing it with a loud clack.

Delta could tell he was nearing incoherence. Passing out would be a mercy, at this point, though he knew he’d probably dislocate his wrists in the process.

"Guess I can ask you the million dollar question then," Yoojin leaned close, pulling Delta's head up by the hair until their noses nearly touched. 

He winced when Yoojin touched his hair, even more when he got close. He was too fucking pliable, he hated how easily he could be maneuvered. But he held still, didn’t fight it.

"Your powers. You're going to let us use them. We're gonna take that collar off and point and you're gonna fucking blow them to pieces for us. Do you wanna agree now or do you want me to have to break a sweat?"

The question, again. He had to suppress the sigh. Amira hadn’t listened. Yoojin would listen even less. It didn’t matter how much he explained himself, what excuses he gave. They would only accept one answer.

For a second, he really did consider it.

“…I’m sorry,” Delta repeated. 

No.

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