I’m excited for this chapter- I’ve had this idea rooting around in my head for a while now. It’s sort of inspired by @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi’s machine in their tools series, and Febuwhump day 22: restrained. Chapter 47.Masterlist.
CW: broken ankles, mention of old wounds, chains, restraints, suspension, noncon touching (not sexual, just creepy), manhandling, medical whump, intubation, loss of bodily autonomy, creepy/intimate whumper, defiant whumpee. There’s kind of a lot going on in this so let me know if I should tag anything else.
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His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. They blinked away old tears and blurred sight as he focused on a spot just to the left of the bright lights.
He could hear the clattering of metal. Splice had been fiddling with something across the room. And Andrew had been chained down far too many times to recognize what they sounded like.
The smell of dried blood and sweat was overpowered by that of chemicals- and he could taste them through the air in the back of his throat. His mouth hung open slightly- sort of panting to enable room for more breath, but his lips and tongue remained dry and sticky.
There was the coolness of the ground against his bare skin. It pressed against his back- against the old welts along his legs and the bruises bubbling underneath his skin.
Andrew had literally been crushed- burned- whipped- carved open-
What was a couple broken bones and sprained tissue compared to all that?
Andrew let his eyes droop closed. He could feel his heartbeat throbbing down in his ankles- pulsing with the blood in the already-swelling limbs. Nevermind that the rest of his body still ached- that he was bruised- that was nothing compared to feeling his bones shifting underneath the skin from where they were supposed to be. He felt like his skin would burst any moment from the stabbing ache of the pain.
Splice was fiddling with something across the room. From where Andrew lay he could see chains- cuffs, pieces of metal- random equipment. All lying about on the floor, or laid out carefully on a small, rolling cart.
“Well- I’m just about ready.”
The man had been “getting ready” for probably an hour or two now. But Andrew had no idea what that meant.
“Ready for- for what.” He asked- the words coming through between bursts of pain.
“For the next phase of my plan. You see, that’s why I took a little break from you. I was getting this ready.”
“What- what is it?”
The men stepped to the side- Andrew winced as he propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look. It looked like- it barely looked like anything.
“This is- hmm, well it’s, it’s a system I guess.” Splice stated. He paced around whatever the contraption was, as if staring at it more would help him explain it better. “A system of carefully planned equipment- for the main purpose of dependence. Complete and total dependence.”
“De- dependence?”
Andrew did not like the sound of that. He tried to shuffle closer to get a better look.
There was a series of chains- he counted- six of them in total, hanging from the ceiling. Three small platforms were bolted into the ground- nearly evenly spaced apart. They barely looked big enough for anything- just a thin rod, coming about waist height, with maybe a six inch square on the top. There was a drain underneath everything in the floor- a monitor to the side with a display- connected to the wall- and a few other smaller machines that were scattered about. From his position on the floor he couldn’t quite see all the things that were set on the cart- but he highly doubted it was food- or water- or clothes- or some other thing that would lessen his humiliation.
“Well come on.” Splice demanded. “Let’s try it out.”
Andrew looked down towards his feet- and then stared back at the man from across the room.
“Damn. I didn’t realize how inconvenient this would be.”
“I’m the one with my ankles broken.” Andrew spat. His comment was met with a slap across the face- sending him crashing into his shoulder on the floor. The stinging on his face was quickly drowned out by everything else as the man grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him across the room.
Andrew choked back on the pain- trying to breath through the shuddering gasps and the flares of agony. He felt the familiar end of a knife against his lips- and opened his eyes to see the man holding it out in front of him.
“You will learn to hold your tongue- or I will cut it out for you.”
Andrew swallowed- fury and rage bubbling inside of him like the fire coursing through his legs.
“I thought you liked me defiant.”
Splice took a step back- ignoring the comment and proceeded to grab some things about the room.
“It’s much more of an inconvenience now.”
Andrew felt cold metal lock around his wrists- far too tight to be comfortable, but not enough to cut off circulation. They seemed slightly padded too. Clearly the man intended him to be in these for a while.
“You will learn your place.”
Andrew let out a squeal- letting it die to hiss between his teeth as similar metal cuffs were locked around his swollen ankles. They were tighter than they should’ve been- causing the bruised skin to bubble around the metal like a blister wanting to pop.
He gasped out between breaths as the pain settled down once more, and then flinched with a shiver as cold hands crept around his waist- behind his back and near his stomach. Another band- sitting low against his hips. The man fiddled with it a little as he tried to get it to close but something wasn’t working.
“Did you gain weight?” The man asked in disbelief.
“Considering I actually had people encouraging me to eat, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
“Hmm.”
Andrew grunted as his body was manhandled- hips turned to the side as the man struggled with the band. He knelt over the boy and Andrew closed his eyes- trying to imagine any different scenario than the one he was in. He let his mind wander- trailing off- and becoming distant- until he heard chains rattling above him.
He opened his eyes and watched as the man lowered them from the ceiling. They seemed to act like curtain blinds- extending when you pulled down on them- but then locking once they were raised.
It didn’t take long for Andrew to put the puzzle pieces together of what this whole contraption was. Six chains- six metal bands- including the one on his collar.
Andrew was correct in his assumption as each one of the chains pulled down to connect to the certain points of his body. They were nearly identical- except for the one around his waist- the chain branched out into two separate ones- connecting on the sides of his hips before forming back into one up to the ceiling.
He clenched his teeth behind a whimper as a chain was connected to the metal collar. He could feel the prongs digging deeper into his skin as his neck was pulled from the floor.
Splice laughed- the sound bouncing off the walls of the room as he stepped away- moving to the large monitor near the wall. Andrew’s eyes followed him desperately.
“Oh Andy- we’re only just getting started.”
And he felt his body begin to rise in the air.
Instant panic rushed through his chest as he felt his limbs being pulled in all sorts of directions. The flurry of butterflies that settled in his stomach as he completely separated from the ground was only drowned out by his own weight dragging down on his ankles.
His arms were pulled apart- stretched out in a t formation- the rest of him a straight line suspended above the ground.
Splice paced around the boy- running cold fingers along his ribs- down his arms- watching as shivers and goosebumps broke out across his skin. He chuckled to himself as Andrew tried to steady himself behind an uncontrolled whimper.
No wonder Splice had been gone for weeks- this seemed carefully designed and thought out. He didn’t sway- he didn’t really even feel unbalanced- everything was perfectly calculated to his weight, height, and measurements.
It terrified Andrew to realize exactly how much control the man had over him now.
“You see- my favorite part about this little contraption here, is it enables me to access you from all sides.”
Andrew flinched as a cold hand pressed against the small of his back. He was hanging just slightly above the man’s waist- and kept his eyes focused on the ceiling above him as hands trailed across his skin.
“Don- don’t touch me-” He murmured. It was small- and pathetic, but it was all he could do to make himself feel slightly better about the situation.
“Don’t tell me what to do.” The man stated. Andrew’s mouth gaped open- his head lolling backwards in a whine as a hand closed around his ankle. “I’m not the one in chains.”
He felt himself lowered slightly- until he felt his skin brushing against the small platforms- one at the base of his head just right above the collar- another at the small of his back, and the third one near his calves and ankles.
Andrew realized he had no choice except to let his body go limp as Splice continued setting everything up.
“How does it feel? Everything seem pretty stable?”
Andrew responded with a groan as the aches flared up in his body.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
There was a pressure around his bicep followed by a pinprick in his arm and he closed his eyes tight as he felt a needle slide inside his veins. Splice walked around him carefully- tracing a finger along his skin- and soon after there was another pinprick- a pressure and weight- and a small whimper at the thought of what could now be entered into his system.
Small patches were stuck across his chest- leading to cords and wires- monitors and screens. Ensuring Splice could make sure everything went smoothly.
Out of the corner of his eye Andrew could see another round circle of metal. This one had many wires coming from the sides- like antennae on an ant. Splice locked it around Andrew’s head, settling it in his hair and went back to the screen.
He hummed in disappointment, fiddled with a few things, and looked back at the monitor.
“That’s odd- it should be reading things just fine, but I’m not getting any strong brain waves.”
Andrew’s eyes darted to the man, and then closed tightly once more as hands came near his face.
The device was lifted off and set aside, and the man began to card his hands through Andrew’s hair. It was a curly mess- thick and unruly, but was arguably his best- or at least most noticeable feature. He had been growing it out and it hung well around his shoulders- leaving a thick crown of protection between his skull and his curls.
Splice chuckled as he watched Andrew’s face scrunch up at the intimate touch.
The boy’s heart began to pound as he heard the familiar click of the man’s knife being unsheathed. Andrew’s eyes shot open- trying to see what was about to happen.
Before Andrew could protest the knife hacked through the locks of hair without a second thought. Splice grabbed a fistful- carved through the curls, and let the chunks fall to the floor in a pile.
Andrew knew there was no use pleading or begging. Splice was going to get his way- and it was better if Andrew just let him do it. After all, there wasn’t going to be anyone else seeing him anymore, so what did it matter if he was missing chunks of hair?
Tears slid down from the sides of his face as he felt locks being hacked away and dropped in a pile. He tried to control his breathing once more but the sobs came through anyways in hiccuped breaths.
“Aww- don’t worry, it’s just hair.” Splice waved a chunk of it in front of the boy’s face- he tried to turn away. “It’ll grow back.”
“I hate you-” Andrew sobbed.
“It’s only necessary. You’ll learn to appreciate it later.” Andrew winced as another chunk was pulled tight and lopped off. “You’re lucky I didn’t shave you bald- your hair is one of your best features after all. Even if it has lost all of it’s color.”
When the man was done he trailed his fingers through what remained. It was uneven- messy, but it did what it was supposed to as the device finally worked correctly.
“We’re almost done.” The man cooed- trailing his fingers around the curve of the boys face. His pointer finger rested on Andrew’s lips carefully prying them apart. “Open up.” He ordered.
A large, funnel-shaped piece of plastic was placed inside his jaw. It wedged behind his teeth, pressing his tongue down and keeping his lips spread.
“This is the important part so I need you to hold still.”
It’s not like Andrew had much of a choice- but he tried to calm his shaking limbs as his head was arched backwards.
Andrew couldn’t have described the feeling of what happened next, even if he wanted to.
Something slid down his throat- a tube- feeling slimy and rough as he choked. His body knew this was wrong- it was telling him that it wasn’t supposed to be there- but there was nothing he could do. Splice fiddled with the tube- connecting it to the guard in his mouth and grabbed another tool- something that looked to be a long thing string of metal. Like the drain snakes with the claw on the end to pull hair out of the bathtub.
It had some weird contraption at the end that Andrew couldn’t make out.
“You can breathe- you’re alright.” The man reassured.
It took Andrew a second to realize that yes- he could still breathe. The air hissed raspy through his throat but his lungs still pumped just fine.
“Now- it is very vital that you continue breathing just as you should. Just stay relaxed, and breathe deep.” The man leaned down, holding the object a few inches from Andrew’s face as he whispered in his ear. “If you don’t, this is bound to hurt a lot worse.”
Andrew whimpered, and sent all the signals he could- closed his eyes tight and tried his best to breathe steady- ignoring whatever the man was going to do with his body next.
He felt the pressure going down his throat, inside the tube until it came out at the bottom inside of his chest.
Feeling something moving where it shouldn’t is indescribable.
Worse than feeling your broken bones shift underneath your skin. Worse than being cut open- lying awake with your insides exposed to the world- (at least that time he had been hyped up on a slew of drugs). This was far worse.
He felt the end of the tool- the end of something- wiggling around as the man bent over him, watching the screen.
Finally there was a burning sensation across his lungs. It was like they were being grabbed from the inside and lit on fire- or crushed in someone’s hand.
He found that he couldn’t scream.
As much as his heart began to pound- he was surprised that his breathing became normal.
Panic flooded all his senses and his lungs wanted to beat in time with his heart, but something wouldn’t allow them. He could barely cry or gasp- any attempt sent the same- crushing pain- coursing inside of him- and his breathing would soon returned to steady.
“Oh, I’m sure it feels a little strange for now, but you’ll get used to it.”
Andrew’s eyes darted to the man- as if pleading for an answer.
Splice spoke as he worked- his hands moving quickly around the boy.
“The machine is essentially breathing for you. The monitors and other machines will regulate everything else. Your body temperature- your nutrition- etc. It will keep you alive- so I can perform the experiments I need to.”
Andrew’s eyes clenched tight as the pain burst through him again- his breathing quickly slowing back down. Splice completed the ensemble with a guard over his face- covering his nose and mouth- the tubes threaded through the middle.
“I’ll administer some drugs and fluids, and then give you a few hours alone to get adjusted before we continue with what I have planned.”
The man carded his fingers gently through Andrew’s hair as he began inserting the drugs into the iv. The boy’s eyes stared up with a crushing amount of fear- and desperation. Unable to move- unable to breathe on his own. They were welled with tears that leaked from his face- but no sobs came through.
He closed his eyes once more- trying to relax into the submission the machine was demanding from him as the man walked out of the room, turning off the lights and leaving Andrew alone in the dark.
“Enjoy your new friend.”
And then there was nothing but the beeping of the machines- and the pounding of his own heart.
General Story CW: Superpowered whump, torture, captivity, defiant whumpee and intimate/creepy whumper, some medical whump, restraints, brainwashing, recovery arc.
Andrew, a type of person born with supernatural powers known as peculiari, is taken against his will by a man with similar abilities. As a shapeshifter, he should be able to get out of any situation, but years in hiding have left his powers nearly useless. He’s left defenseless as he’s taken into captivity, and has to choose between maintaining his sanity and dignity, or doing what it takes to survive.
It’s the next chapter! Part 51 is here.Masterlist here. If you have any questions about any of their powers, or how the world works, I’m always open to asks.
CW: restraints, medical whump, manhandling, collared, forced to beg, drugged whumpee, noncon touching (non-sexual), whumpee with a messed-up headspace, threatening with a gun, (if guns squick you out, this chapter probs isn’t the one for you).
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Mickie and Micah had their backs pressed against the wall. A sheen of sweat was peeking over her brow as the guards walked past. She had reassured Micah several times though- as long as they weren’t moving, her illusion would hold fast, and they were practically invisible. Something about shapeshifting the light around them.
He still didn’t understand a lot of this. For now though- he didn’t think he needed to. He just needed to make sure Andrew got back safely.
The guards left and Micah relaxed back into the wall with a sigh.
“You holding up alright?” Micah whispered. She nodded.
They approached a little closer- listening closely for any signals that might mean they should step in and help. The door that Ali and Justin had entered into was just down the hall.
Micah’s heart jumped as he heard a faint scream from behind the door.
Instinctively he raced towards it- despite Mickie grabbing his arm- trying to get him to wait- assess the situation before barging in there.
The sight he laid eyes on when he barged into the room was one he’d relive over and over in his nightmares.
Justin was thrashing on the floor- he quickly discovered he was the source of the scream. Ali was curled in a heap, seemingly incapacitated while a man stood over the two of them.
If you saw that man out on the street, he’d look like any other office drone, maybe with a bit more of a personality. He likes to play mini golf on the weekends, and thinks wearing a colored suit is his version of living rebelliously. In fact, he was wearing one now. A light gray-blue, with the jacket discarded to the side, and the sleeves rolled up, the front slightly unbuttoned. His dark hair was greased back into a low ponytail, and Micah could see a sleek pocket knife resting in the top of his left front pocket- clearly meant for easy access.
The man laughed, and Micah got a good look at this face. That was the only thing distinct about him. Several scars lined his features, and his eyes seemed to stare deep into your soul- scanning every inch of your body- analyzing every weakness and trace with just a glance as he scanned the boy up and down.
“Well, this is a surprise isn’t it?” The man taunted. “I was expecting the little sister, but I guess the boyfriend will have to do, hmm? Or can he even call you that?”
“What did you do to him?” Micah felt Andrew’s sister sneak in behind him as the man turned towards where the boy was restrained.
“According to his words, ‘I barely know him.’ And, ‘don’t bring him into this, he’s not important.’” Splice took a step closer to Micah and he stepped to the side, trying to get a better view of Andrew. “How’s that make you feel, hm? That you’re not important.”
“Oh shut up.” Micah grumbled. “What did you do to him!”
From where he stood- Andrew was an array of tubes and mechanisms and machines. He seemed to be nearly floating in the air. Suspended by an array of chains and platforms and metal cuffs that locked around his nearly-naked body. If it weren’t for the lanky limbs and scrunched features of his face- Micah would’ve nearly been unable to recognize him.
His skin was so pale- nearly a stark white that matched his hair. He wanted to rush towards him- throw him off of that machine- shoot that man right where he stood- but-
But he had no idea what he had done to Andrew. No idea what was in all those tubes and machines, or how to deal with any of it and keep him alive if he killed the man right away.
It didn’t matter anyways because as Micah stepped forward towards the boy, the man grabbed him by the arm- pulling him close against his chest.
Splice grabbed Micah’s wrists, pulling them tight behind his back. Completely dwarfed by the larger man, his attempts at thrashing about and squirming from the man’s grip were useless.
“Let go of me!” He cried. “Don’t touch me- get off-”
Micah yelped out a scream as the third collar was locked around his throat. He felt the sharp pains in the back of his neck and quickly realized that Justin and Ali were wearing the same thing. The same chunk of metal that was keeping both of them incapacitated on the floor.
“It’s power restricting dear, don’t try and fight it, or get it off. It’ll be useless.”
At this moment Micah realized his advantage. Splice didn’t know anything about him. He didn’t know he didn’t have any abilities, that this collar wasn’t going to do anything to him aside from being a minor inconvenience.
He dropped to his knees as the man let him go- throwing him to the ground.
“What did you do to him.” He demanded, his fingers flitting up to his neck- feeling the cold metal. He flinched away as the man laughed.
“What I did to him is a great question indeed. Should we have a little demonstration?”
“No!” He cried. “Just- just let him go. Take him off the machine, we can- we can talk about this, we-”
“Oh there’s sure a lot to talk about.” The man stated, pacing around the boy. Micah didn’t know what to say. He was never usually at a loss for words, but this whole situation- Andrew, lying there so defenseless- it was hard to come up with any sort of intelligent conversation.
“Are you quite certain you want me to remove him from all this?” The man fiddled with the machine, adjusting some buttons and levers.
Justin had propped himself onto his elbows- still panting and drenched in sweat from the shocks he’d been given earlier.
“Let him- let him go-” he panted.
Micah nodded in agreement.
“Please. Please let him go.”
Splice hummed in slight satisfaction at the smaller boy’s pleas. He seemed amused at this whole situation as he came to stand in front of where he knelt.
“Say that again.”
“What? I-”
“What did you just say? Say it again.”
“I- I said, let him go.”
“No, that’s not quite right.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What exactlydid you say?”
The realization hit Micah and his stomach dropped as he realized what the man wanted. He sighed, clenching his fists across his lap.
“I said, please. Please let him go.”
Splice nodded and Micah sighed in relief, but it wasn’t enough.
“Now beg.”
“What? No- I-”
Splice began to move back to Andrew, flicking out his pocketknife and moving to the other side of where he hung- putting the boy between himself and the other one on the floor.
“Alright. Well, I’ll just have to continue with what I had planned then-” he threatened.
“No!” Micah cried. He nearly lunged himself at the man- his hands catching his weight as he nearly crashed on the floor. “Please. Please don’t- don’t hurt him anymore. There, is this what you want?” Micah choked back a sob, keeping his eyes away from where Justin and Ali lay. Purely focused on the man in front of him, and the boy that had already been granted so much pain. He nearly laughed. “Look, I’m on my hands and knees here. Please, just no more. Just give him a break, please.”
Micah waited in silence as the man stood there, his breathing getting slightly heavier as he scanned the boy restrained in front of him.
He sighed, and began shutting off some of the machines, removing the iv drip bag and disconnecting it from Andrew’s arm.
“Well, only since you asked so nicely.”
Micah sighed in relief, nearly collapsing in on himself, and glanced back towards Justin.
They watched in silence as the man disconnected their friend from the arrangement he was in. The ivs and tubes were removed, the band around his head, the wires attached to his chest. The metal stands keeping him held up were removed and lowered, and he was just suspended by the chains. With a careful hand on his head, the tubes in his mouth and down his throat were removed and tossed aside. The chains were lowered until he was lying on his back on the ground, the drain right beneath him.
Andrew gasped out, his neck arching back as his lungs and throat burned.
Thankfully the rest of his body was so numb with drugs that he barely felt any other pain. But he hadn’t been breathing on his own for nearly twenty four hours.
Tears leaked down his eyes as he stared at the ceiling- his vision blurry and unfocused. His chest heaved- and finally, after a few agonizing moments, he remembered how to breath again.
It was anything but steady- short, gasping breaths that were interrupted by jabs of pain, followed by long, drawn out wails of air.
Micah wanted to rush to him- to hold him in his arms as he shook and trembled on the floor- but the man was in his way. And with Andrew’s vulnerability, he did not want to risk anything in fear of his safety.
Splice removed the chains and cuffs from Andrew’s ankles- they were dark and bruised compared to the pale white of the rest of his body. Micah stared in horror at the clear displacement of the bones- the discoloration- the way Andrew barely flinched or moved as the man’s eyes scanned his body. He removed the band along his waist, as well as the chain attached to his neck, but kept the collar locked tight around it.
The man grabbed both chains attached to his wrists, pulling them together and stretching them up to the ceiling. He pulled it higher and higher until Andrew was forced on his knees. Andrew sat back between his heels, his wrists held out in front of him as his head arched backwards- almost as if he could open up his throat to suck in more breath. But there would never be enough air.
“I believe just a moment ago you were wondering what I’d done to him, hmm?” Splice taunted. Andrew’s eyes remained unfocused as the man gripped his hair forcing him to look ahead at his friends.
Andrew barely registered what was happened. This wasn’t his own body- he didn’t belong here- everything that was happening to him- it didn’t feel like it was actually him. It was all disjointed, unconnected.
“Don’t hurt him-” Micah whispered- frozen in his spot where he knelt.
“Oh he won’t need much of that anymore. I only want him to answer a few questions.” He tilted the boy’s chin up to look in his eyes- hoping for some sort of coherency from the boy. “Can you do that for me?” He asked.
Andrew blinked back in silence, trying to register what was going on.
“Alrighty carrot top, who do you belong to?”
There was complete silence in the room- the only sound being Andrew’s strangled breaths. The hand tightened in the back of his hair, gripping tightly underneath his chin. Andrew gasped slightly- but still didn’t speak, even as the man asked the question again.
“Don’t- don’t touch him.” Micah asked- his voice just barely above a whisper. The man made his skin crawl- the way he looked at Andrew- the way his fingers gripped the boy’s skin- “Please, just leave him alone.” He pleaded.
At Micah’s plea Splice responded with a slap to Andrew’s face. His head jerked to the side and he gasped at the sting- his eyes finally shuffling to land on the man in front of him.
“There we go. Are you with me now?” Splice asked.
“Don’t touch him!” Micah cried.
Andrew’s eyes seemed to light up at the sound of the other boy’s voice. They darted about for something to land on but all he could see was the man in front of him. Even that figure was blurry.
“Ahh, it looks like you are with us. Finally. I was asking a question- it’s rude of you to ignore me you know.” He leaned down, grabbing the boy’s wrists as he whispered in his ear. “If you keep this up, your punishment will make everything I did to you before seem like a treat.”
Andrew squinted his eyes shut tight, nodding his head fiercely.
“Good.” The man whispered. He stood back up, and stepped aside so Andrew could get a clear glance of his friends about the room. “Now, who do you belong to Andy?”
His eyes landed on the man. Pleading with him silently. His throat hurt so much he could barely make out a whisper. There was no sound. At Andrew’s failed attempt the man gripped Micah by the back of his sweater and dragged him forward. Micah yelped and struggled in his grip, but was unable to resist as his wrists were grabbed.
“Don’t make me ask again!” He yelled, jerking Micah’s arms behind him as he did so.
Andrew’s eyes finally registered who was sitting in front of him. He saw the blue of the hair- the small figure dwarfed by an oversized sweater- his oversized sweater. And he registered that man- the one who had caused him so much pain. He was holding that boy- with- with a knife pressed under his chin. The same knife he had carved those lines into his skin with just a few hours ago.
And then he registered what the man wanted. The question- the responses- the words that were so ingrained in his mind.
“You-” he blurted out. “I belong to you.” He answered.
Andrew was shocked at how raspy his own voice sounded. There was barely any volume. Just a grovel of consonants and vowels that tried to make some coherent sense. But it was good enough for the man.
“Finally. Next question. What are you?”
Andrew winced at the pain that crept up his throat from the attempt to speak. He had to answer- he couldn’t let Micah get hurt. He couldn’t drag him into this.
“A tool.” He managed to say. “Used for- for what you see fit.”
“Andrew no-” Micah whispered. The man tugged at his arms tighter, the glint of the blade threatening to break skin and Micah took that as his cue to be silent.
Splice nodded in agreement, satisfied with the answer.
“Now where, and when?”
Andrew choked back a sob. Holding back a cough in his throat as he tried to answer.
“Here, with you- and for- for forever-” At the last word he broke into a fit of coughs. Andrew collapsed in on himself, his wrists pulled tight above him as his lungs heaved. A few droplets of blood splattered on the floor below him. His whole mouth felt dry as it mingled with the taste of blood and bile that crept up his throat.
Micah’s eyes were clenched tight. He couldn’t watch this. He didn’t think he’d be strong enough. Instead he listened to the coughs and grunts of pain as Andrew tried and failed to catch his breath.
“Last question, carrot top.” The man stated. “Why. Why am I doing this. Why you?”
Andrew’s chest shook his mouth formed the words but he underestimated the amount of effort needed to create the sound. He choked back a sob of frustration before putting forth his remaining energy to answer the question.
“Because I’m worthless. I- I’m nothing, and I- I deserve it.”
Another fit of coughs rung through him and Micah gasped in unison as the knife left his throat and the man stepped away.
A cruel hand rubbed along Andrew’s back as he hacked- his whole body shook and shivered.
“Oh you’re alright.” The man moved to the rolling cart filled with numerous supplies and came back with a water bottle and a few tissues. “Here- you deserve it.”
Micah watched in shock as Andrew mumbled thank yous, and let the man bring the bottle to his lips. His head tilted back as the water washed over him. It spilled down his chin as he tried to drink- and took him a moment to remember how to swallow. Just as he was actually getting something down his throat, the man pulled it away and Micah swore he could hear the boy whine.
Andrew looked so- so- he hated to think it, but he looked so pathetic. It was terrifying really, to think of everything the man must have done in order the resort Andrew to this state of submission.
What sorts of pain had he put him through?
As Micah’s eyes scanned Andrew’s body, and he saw all the scars, he didn’t think he ever wanted to know.
There were so many- and that was just on his chest. So many lines, interwoven and carved between each other. Splotches and scratches, discoloration, some bruises fresh, others that were weeks old. He didn’t want to imagine what all terrible history was written on his back, or the rest of his body.
Splice saw the boy’s eyes scanning his friend and he chuckled. He titled Andrew’s chin up from where it hung on his chest.
“He looks wonderful doesn’t he?”
“What?”
Splice turned Andrew’s face from side to side. Inspecting each bruise, each mark along his neck and across his shoulders.
“It’s almost like a work of art. I mean, you were wondering everything I’d done to him. Care for a demonstration?” As he spoke the man rose the chain on the ceiling higher and higher- pulling Andrew’s wrists up until he was forced high on his toes. They barely brushed the ground as his arms stretched out above him, leaving his body strung up on display.
“Before I begin,” the man stated, “I’m going to need you to hand that over.” He stood in front of Micah, one hand outstretched, as if asking for a treat a child had stolen from the cookie jar.
Micah shook his head, scooching backwards away from the man.
“I don’t- I don’t know what you’re talking about-”
Splice shook his head, stepping forward until he was standing directly atop of the boy, staring down at him.
“Oh I’m sure you do. Are you that primitive to resort to such violence?”
“Violence!” Micah laughed, motioning towards his friend. “You’re definitely one to comment on violence.”
“Yes, but my methods are far more… sophisticated. Now hand it over.”
Justin’s eyes had shifted towards Micah. He had managed to crawl his way over to Ali but the collar sapping his powers was making him so dehydrated that was struggling hard to fight unconsciousness.
“I don’t have anything-”
“Oh don’t lie to me, I don’t have time for this.”
Splice knelt down on top of the boy, straddling his waist, and flipped him onto his stomach. He pressed a knee into the back of his neck, trapping his arms underneath him.
“Don’t touch me- get off!” Micah cried. He screamed and thrashed about as the man felt around for the object, finally lifting up the back of his sweater to find the pistol tucked carefully in the back of his waistband.
“Well- look at what I found.”
“Get off of me.” He grumbled through gritted teeth as the man shoved his face in the floor. In a swift move Splice flipped the boy back onto his back, keeping his hands pinned down by his sides with his knees. Micah squirmed but the man was far stronger.
He twirled the pistol in between his fingers, flicking the safety on and off over and over again, until Micah had no idea what was what anymore. He heard a string of muttered pleas and screams that took him a moment to realize were his own. The pistol was pressing up underneath his chin. He felt the cold metal against his skin and his voice trembled as he realized the gravity of his situation.
The muzzle of the gun traced across his lips, moving across the side of his face to rest against his temple.
“Oh shhh- shh now, it’s your own fault for bringing it in here. We shouldn’t let those bullets go to waste.”
Tears streamed down his face, and Micah sobbed harder than he ever had before in his life. His whole body shook as he tried to say anything to sway the man from doing what he dreaded.
“Don’t kill me please- I’m sorry- please, don’t shoot- I-”
The end of the gun pressed down harder, turning the side of his face flat against the cold ground.
Justin watched in horror- his limbs and voice utterly useless as he was sapped of all energy. He couldn’t cry out- he couldn’t rush to help- so he just laid there and watched in dreaded anticipation as the man threatened Micah.
Finally- it was the prisoner. The boy chained up, and beaten and starved that stopped the man in his tracks.
“Stop!” He shouted. His voice broken and raspy- but the word firm and clear. “Please. Please don’t hurt him-” Andrew cried. “I’ll- I’ll do anything to keep him safe, just don- don’t hurt him. Please.” Now tears were streaming down both of the boy’s faces. “Sir- please. I- I’ll do anything.” Andrew’s words and pleas were cut off by his strangle sobs, and a sigh of relief as the man stood up off of the boy, and approached were his prisoner was strung up.
“Th-thank you. Thank you so much-” Andrew cried in relief. A hand tilted his chin up and away from his chest, and then a gentle thumb swiped across his cheek, wiping away a few of his tears.
The man shook his head, and sighed.
“You look just wonderful when you’re desperate.” He whispered.
A chill and a choked off sob ran through Andrew’s body. He clenched his eyes tight as fingertips traced across the lines on his stomach- moving up his chest, around his neck, and brushed across his lips.
“You said you would do anything, right?”
Andrew nodded. A whisper of a ‘yes’ echoing through his lips.
“Alright then.” The tip of the pistol replaced the man’s fingers where they rested on Andrew’s mouth, and he felt the cold metal against his lips.
It dropped a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“Open up.” The man ordered.
Andrew complied. He knew he had no choice.
His body shook and his arms and shoulders trembled, but he parted his lips ever so slightly. Splice placed a hand on the back of Andrew’s head, tilting it at exactly the right angle.
Andrew was used to a muzzle. He was used to the cold leather tight against his face- the bit between his teeth- but not the harsh muzzle of a gun.
Splice guided it into his mouth until the tip was tickling the back of his throat, the barrel against his tongue, and the trigger guard just right in front of his lips.
A small squeak of a whimper leaked out of his throat as the man patted him on the cheek- leaving it sitting in Andrew’s mouth.
“Hold that there for me will you?”
And he stepped back towards the smaller boy, trembling on the floor.
