#handler whump

It slides the bolt over and cracks the door open. The flashing lights stop and Living Weapon steps out onto the porch. The concrete has been warmed by the sun and it relishes in the moment, closing its eyes for just a second. The car honks and Living Weapon springs to life. 

It slides into the passenger seat and stares at Caretaker’s house. Slowly, it relaxes into the seat and looks at Handler. The lines on his face are more defined, softening him almost. Living Weapon bites the inside of its cheek until it tastes blood. It inhales sharply and looks at Caretaker’s front door. 

“Glad you came out, I didn’t want to break in.” Handler says, tapping irritably on the steering wheel. 

Its breath hitches and it looks at its hands. Almost whispering, it asks, “How did you find me?” 

“Oh please,” Handler scoffs. “I never lost you.” 

Living Weapon nods solemnly and takes a shuddering inhale. “So what now?” 

Handler huffs and reverses out of the driveway. He stares at the road and sighs, “Now you’ve hopefully found out that everything I do is to help you. Not to hurt you. Now we go home and fix whatever Caretaker did to you.”

Living Weapon picks at its cuticles as Handler turns and twists and travels back to the cabin in the forest that he called home. 

Blood beads out of Living Weapon’s nail bed by the time Handler parks the truck. He jumps out of the truck and motions for it to do the same. 

Its feet sink into the mud and when it pulls its foot out of the mud, its sock stays. Living Weapon jumps to the small mat outside the door and wipes its feet, doing its best to get all the mud off of its feet before walking inside behind Handler.

He whistles and throws a bundle of clothes at it, “Put these on.” They fall onto Living Weapon’s feet and Handler seethes. 

“What happened to you?” 

Quickly, Living Weapon plucks the clothes off the ground and smears the mud around, working it into the fabric. “I’m tired, I wasn’t expecting it. Nothing’s happened.” 

Handler chucks his shoe at it, “I think you’re slow. I think Caretaker coddled the killer instinct in you and now you can’t keep yourself alive. You rely on her.” 

Living Weapon spits and hurls the shoe back at Handler. “You’re wrong!” it stomps up to Handler and hovers a hand over his chest. “She made me stronger than you ever could.” 

It takes a deep breath and lowers its hand to its side. Handler exhales shakily and blinks a few times, forcing a laugh. 

“Then why did you come back with me? If you’re so strong?” 

Living Weapon grins, its teeth showing, “To do this.” 

Without a moment’s hesitation, it charges Handler and shoves him up against the kitchen wall, hands around his neck. Handler gasps, a hand flying up to his throat and he tries to claw Living Weapon’s hands off of him as the other gropes behind him, hopelessly searching for something to help. 

Living Weapon pulls him away from the wall and slams him back, his head making a sickening cracking sound at impact. Handler’s mouth makes a strangled sound and his head falls forward, nose brushing Living Weapon’s arm. 

Living Weapon lets him go, his body falling forward onto the kitchen floor. Blood spills onto the tile and Living Weapon watches it spread. The blood reaches its feet and Living Weapon steps in the puddle of it, letting it get sticky underneath it. Slowly, it reaches into Handler’s pocket and pulls the keys to his truck out. 

It peels its feet up from the ground and walks out of the cabin. This time, it avoids the mud and climbs into the driver’s seat.