“What’s wrong with them?” Caretaker looked over Whumpee, concern lacing their voice and etching their features. Whumpee wasn’t a baby or anything, but they looked so tiny. So fragile, laid down on the couch.
Their eyelids drooped down, their pupils were blown wide as hell and a sheen of sweat glistened on their skin. They mumbled and couldn’t seem to focus to anything–or anyone, for that matter. They kept flinching and shaking.
Caretaker looked back at Antihero and repeated the question. They leaned back against the floral wallpaper, arms folded, expression unreadable. “Hey,” Caretaker said for a third time. “What the hell is wrong with them? Did you do this?”
“Like I said, I found them like that. They showed up at my door, high out of their mind with yourname and number written on their arm. They begged me not to call the cops; I didn’t really want to play twenty-one questions with the police and so I figured I’d call you.”
“Well, one thing’s for sure. They didn’t do this to themselves.”
It was cold. Whumpee was hovering right in between consciousness and passing out again, but it was cold.They were shivering before they had even come to, their entire body shaking.
A sound accompanied it, accompanied the shaking. It was a clinking sound. A sound that echoed and reminded them of wine glasses at dinner parties. But they couldn’t be bothered to care about that when it was so fucking cold and their head was so heavy and the pressure behind their eyes was building and building into a sizeable migraine.
Squinting, they groaned, clenching their teeth together. A blinding light blocked everything out, seemingly positioned squarely above their line of sight. Instead of trying to see where they were and why it was so cold, they listened, trying to decipher. They could hear talking, muffled albeit.
Their limbs felt heavy too; they couldn’t move. They couldn’t move. They realized came like a punch to the gut and they started thrashing. Their eyes flew open, in spite of the light.
A few different voices spoke at once. Whumpee stopped cold. They recognized one of them, and once their eyes adjusted, their blood went cold.
Whumper stood above them, face unreadable save for a small smile. They leaned in closer, one hand petting them like an animal. The other held a syringe.
“Don’t.” Whumee said, voice strained and mouth dry. They pulled against the restraints, but they held tight. A table, fitted with leather straps. “I’ll fucking kill you. Don’t you dare-”
They felt the tell-tell pinch in their neck, felt the sting. Only moments later, they could feel their body going slack. Their breath slowed. Or maybe the world did. Things tipped out of proportion, colors leaking into each other just a little.
A soft groan left their mouth as they focused on staying awake. They couldn’t quite remember why they needed to stay awake, only knew that they did. They needed.. they needed…
—
Whumper chuckled as Whumpee’s body relaxed, betraying them. A second or two later, their eyes took on a glazed over look, one that said Whumpee was utterly gone. Maybe even comeplety blacked-out at this point.
“So sorry for the inconvenienc, ladies and gents.” They capped the syringe and stuffed it in their pocket. “This one is unusually hard to keep sedated, but they are a pretty one, aren’t they?” Whumper said, tilting their head from side to side for the party-goers to ogle.
The perfect summary: They torture him, then forget about him for a week, causing a stab wound in his leg to get infected. They take him to a doc to treat him, he wakes up delirious and confused, so the doc ups the morphine to make it worse so she can get some answers from him :)
Howard ‘Chimney’ Han (Kenneth Choi) has been strapped to a gurney. Jonah (Bryce Durfee) repeatedly injects him with medication to stop Howard’s heart and then shocks it to restart it. Howard manages to get one arm free, shocks Jonah and escapes.
CW: Drugging, implied sex trafficking/prostitution, head trauma mention, poor self image, discussion of past trauma, passing out, implied suicide attempt
“Where… where am I..?”
Atlas turned from the window to look at Val. “You’re awake.” Relief swept over them.
“Wh-who… what’s going on?” Val struggled to sit up, their tone rapidly becoming more upset.
“It’s okay— you’re okay. We’re back at my house.”
Val grasped the edge of the blankets near their chest, their eyes flickering over the interior of the room. “D-don't— You don’t have to dru-drug me again— I can— I’ll be good— I won't— I won’t try to get away anym-more— I’m sor-sorry—”
Atlas sat at the end of the bed, mentally kicking themself as Val flinched. “I’m not going to drug you. I won’t hurt you.”
“I don’t believe you—” Val whimpered, shrinking back against the pillows.
Atlas took a steadying breath. “Val— listen, you might not believe me, but it is true. I swear on the soul of my father that I will not hurt you and that I only want to help you.” Atlas extended a hand, open and palm up, to Val. “I can see that you don’t trust me. I know I’ve made mistakes with you already and for that I am deeply sorry. Can you forgive me?”
Val’s eyes fixed on Atlas’s hand, their muscles tense. “I-I… I f-forgive you…” And they reluctantly and gingerly placed their small hand atop Atlas’s.
Atlas didn’t really think Val had forgiven them, but they found the gesture of trust— however small— reassuring. There was hope that things could change. One day, Val would be okay.
“Can you get up? Are you strong enough?”
Val struggled and managed to get their feet on the ground from the bed, but when they tried to stand, they had to sit back down.
“May I help you?” Atlas stood and Val flinched again.
“I don't— d-don’t want to be carried…”
“Then I won’t carry you. If you lean on me, do you think you can walk a short ways?”
“I-I… I-I can try…”
Atlas helped Val to stand and led them out of the room into the hallway. Val was slow, but Atlas didn’t try to pick them up. “Right in here. Come on. Sit down.” Atlas helped Val to the table and to a chair.
Val sat down, taking a shaky breath as they looked around the dining hall.
“I’m going to bring you something to eat. And I want you to meet the rest of the household if that’s alright.”
Val nodded lightly and Atlas disappeared into the kitchen. “Six? Would you find Seven and Emery and join me in the dining room please?”
Six, a short werewolf with bangs obscuring most of their face, nodded and left the kitchen.
Atlas made something for Val to eat and came back to the dining room just in time to see Six, Seven, and Emery come in through a side door.
Val started to tremble a little bit as the three new arrivals sat at the table.
“Val? I’d like to introduce the rest of the house. This is Six—” Atlas motioned to the werewolf with bangs covering their eyes. “They don’t really talk much. This is Seven, Six’s litter mate—” Another werewolf, who looked identical to Six aside from the fact that their hair was brushed out of their face, gave a curt nod. “They have an… interesting attitude, but they’re sweet at heart. And this is Emery—” A tall lanky vampire with red hair and brown eyes waved at Val. “They’re a social butterfly. Six, Seven, Emery— this is Val. They’re a shapeshifter.”
A chorus of hellos resounded from the trio. Even Six chimed in, albeit quietly.
Val whispered a hello in response.
“Val, you don’t have to share anything if you don’t want to, but I’ll let you alone with them now if you’re okay with it.”
—
Val nodded weakly, unsure if it was a proper response, but then Atlas was gone and they couldn’t change their mind. They didn’t trust Atlas, but… well… they didn’t really want them to leave, either…
“So I’m Seven.” Seven kicked back in their chair. “Me and Six were born at a mill. There were so many litters that they just named us by number. That’s why we’re Six and Seven. There used to be One, Two, Three, Four, Five, and Eight too. Then Two died when we were born. The rest didn’t make it out with me and Six. Last I saw them, Three was still alive, though.”
Val didn’t know what to do with this information, so they just stared. Why was Seven sharing this with them?
“Atlas is a good human— one of the only good humans. You seem like you don’t trust him, but you can. And you should.”
The vampire— Emery cut in. “Don’t be weird, Seven. They haven’t even been here for twenty-four hours yet. Talking about trust and shit… Anyway, my name’s Emery! I’m a vampire— obviously. When I got turned, I thought I was a monster. I tried… well… long story short, things weren’t good for me— y'know— mentally. But Atlas helped me take control of my life again.”
Val looked at Six, almost expecting a story from them too, but they didn’t speak.
“Six… suffered a traumatic brain injury.” Seven said, following Val’s gaze. “They can understand everything, but… they can’t really put together more than three or sometimes four words at a time…”
“I-I’m sorry…”
“It is… okay” Six said, haltingly.
Seven gave a reluctant nod. “It’s good to have a new addition to the house. Your name’s Val, right?”
Val nodded. “I-I’m a shapeshifter. I’ve li-lived with a human called Knox all my life… they… they helped me learn how to u-use my magic to make people ha-happy…”
No one said anything then for a long minute.
“How so?” Seven asked, finally.
“We-well… I… People… I become different things to suit different people’s t-tastes…” Val stopped, uncomfortable and uncertain. They didn’t dare meet anyone’s eyes. “I… I-I’m sorry— I—” Val stood to leave the room, but suddenly their vision blurred. They collapsed.
Val’s eyelids felt heavy. They couldn’t seem to move… their thoughts were moving at a snails pace. Val opened their eyes to a blurry world.
“Val?”
The voice sounded distant. It took Val several minutes to realize they were looking up at a face. They tried to speak, but their words came out in an unintelligible slur.
“Shhh… you’re alright.”
Val leaned into a gentle touch on their cheek. They didn’t try to speak again, but fell back asleep.
—
“They still sleeping?” Seven leaned in the doorway, looking in at Atlas and Val.
“Yeah… I’m… I’m actually starting to worry. The doctor said they’d only be out for about two hours. It’s almost been three.” Atlas stood from their chair.
“Don’t worry too much yet. I’m sure they’ll wake up soon.” Seven came into the room, looking down into Val’s face. “They’re pretty for a shifter.”
“And you’re pretty for a mutt.”
“Hey! That’s derogatory.”
“So is shifter.” Atlas shrugged. “If you want to be called a werewolf then you’d best call them a shapeshifter. Or, even better, Val.”
“That their name?”
Atlas nodded, sitting back down. “Y'know, when we got to the doctor, they lost it. No reason either.”
“Stress?”
Atlas shrugged again. “I really don’t know. I suppose I just hope they’ll get better with time and some serious therapy…”
“Well… they can’t be any worse off than I was.”
“You don’t know… You didn’t see…” Atlas trailed off. “… Knox— their… the person I bought them from… I don’t know all the things they did to Val or made them do, but it wasn’t good…”
“Human?”
Atlas gave a vague nod.
“Humans fucking suck— except you, of course.”
“Don’t make snap judgements, Seven. There are good humans. There are bad werewolves.”
“Whatever you say, boss.” Seven turned to walk out.
“Hey.”
Seven stopped.
“I mean it. Just because you’ve had bad experiences doesn’t mean all humans are like that. Don’t give up on us that easily.”
Val kept their eyes focused on the ground. “W-what do you want me to b-be for you? Kn-Knox liked elves— I could be an e-elf—”
Atlas calculated their next words carefully. “Well… for right now, I want you to stay in your original form until you’ve healed… after that, I suppose you can be whatever and whoever you like.”
Anger wouldn’t help anyone right now. Val was already scared. Besides, Atlas wasn’t angry at Val. They were angry at Knox. They made every attempt to smother their temper.
Val didn’t have anything to say for the rest of the ride and Atlas didn’t push them.
—
“Where… where are we..?” Val peered cautiously out the window. This wasn’t the house they remembered.
“We’re at the doctor’s house. I just need to make sure you’re okay to go home.”
Val barely heard the last sentence. “Wh… what..?”
Atlas repeated themself, but Val heard even less this time.
“Pl-please— please don't—” Val screamed as they felt someone touch their shoulder. Their mind was already far gone from their body. They screamed and struggled as the person held onto them tighter. They didn’t want this. They didn’t want to live their life drugged. They wanted to go back to Knox.
—
“Hey, hey, calm down—” Atlas was afraid to let go of Val. The way they were thrashing and screaming— Atlas was scared they would hurt themself.
Atlas managed to wrestle Val out of the car and all but dragged them in to the doctor’s house.
Once inside, the doctor helped Atlas get Val over to the examination table.
“I’m going to sedate them. You need to hold them down.” The doctor worked quickly and soon Val was asleep.
“What happened?” The doctor asked, taking a half step back.
“I don’t know. They’re here legally this time, though. They’re my responsibility now.” Atlas looked down at Val with concern. “They just… When we got here, they freaked out. I don’t know what triggered it.”
The doctor ran a hand through their hair, stressed. “Well… I’m assuming this was supposed to be a follow up for last time? I can do that and they can go home with you. I’m not exactly a psychiatrist, but I would recommend they see one. We should move quickly. The sedative I gave them will only last for a couple hours based on their weight.”
Rufus rarely dreamed - but when he did, they were, like most dreams, an odd mashup of thoughts and memories of absolute nonsense.
Right now, he dreamt of that Gaia-awful fanclub of all things. All of the Turks were members - even the Old Man! All wearing cream-coloured ribbons that shone gold on their wrist.
Even Dark Nation had one on her tentacle tied in a big fancy bow, and she was small again, a bitey, yapping little thing at his feet.
It seemed like they were all merely entertained by his embarrassment at the start - until everyone was staring at him in eerie silence. More people appeared, an uncountable amount to the point where Rufus couldn’t see their faces.
“They all want a piece of you.”
Rufus looked down, and Dark Nation sat there, tentacle wagging.
“Is there enough of you to go around?”
Why the hell did his guard hound sound like his mot -
Rufus hadn’t time to answer when hands were suddenly tearing into him, tearing him apart -
Conscious broke through as Rufus then felt a hand brush his hair back, something… someonecrooning his name.
The drug-induced dream quickly forgotten, Rufus jerked violently back from whatever was touching him - only to be hurriedly hushed.
“Shh shh shhh - easy, my dear, dear Vice-President, nothing to be afraid of, I promise.”
Vision still blurry - and it didn’t help that the room’s lights were dimmed, Rufus couldn’t make out Pedro, but it most certainly sounded like him.
“Oh my, to have you here in my home, in the flesh…”
Rufus cursed inwardly, before looking in the direction he thought Pedro was, “Where’sss…. Ossissss….”
He couldn’t see Pedro’s face, but Rufus knew the man had stilled at the question. It was an immediate opportunity to get him talking, to stall for time, to wait for the drugs to wear off.
Rufus’ first lesson from Veld, all those many years ago: Make them start talking, and keepthem talking.
“I thhought he was your… your friend.”
It was hard to get words out, but it was enough to make Pedro already uncomfortable.
“He’s… he’s fine! He’ll be fine,” Pedro blurted out, “The, the drugs weren’t that strong - but but what’s important right now is that you’re my honoured guest! The others at the club always went on and onabout hoping to meet you someday….”
Rufus had to bite down a surprised noise when Pedro was almost right in his face, and there was an obsessive, wide-eyed glee in his gaze
“But I wanted to.” he said softly, and lifted some strands of Rufus’ hair, “I wanted to meet you so badly.”
Rufus’ lip curled a little, unable to help but lean away, “You could’ve jusst asked for an’autograph…”
Pedro let a laugh, thankfully moving away for a moment, “Oh, such a kidder - I knew you’d have a sense of humour!”
Rufus rolleed his eyes a little, “M’here all night…”
Pedro could only grin, “Oh, I hope so…”
Ossis, please, please be all right…
Into the wolf’s jaws the black sheep prowls. Avoiding teeth and creaky floorboards on its way. With a set purpose that’s feed with betrayal and blood lust. Oh, Pedro will regret his transgression.
It’s easy enough to locate the basement, and thanks to Nunchaku’s background check of the building, he knows right away that something is at miss. The basement is far too small from what was shown on the blueprints. Nunchaku spends a full four minutes searching for any clues or hidden passages. Nothing. Just a regular poor-man’s storage space with the smell of moisture damage.
Growing up with money, Nunchaku knew that rich folks loooves secret spaces with hidden entrances. As a child he took great pleasure in discovering hidden doors whenever he was invited to someone’s property. The bigger the estate the more likely it is for the existence of these hidden spaces.
His search leads him to Pedro’s bedroom. Nothing appears out of normal at first glance, just what one might expect how a bedroom of a middle age hairdresser, an eccentric man from downtown to look like. Nunchaku takes no enjoyment navigating through Pedro’s privacy. They weren’t friends. That’s why he remains unaffected when stepping into the walk-in-closet, through rows of colorful garments that conceals the man’s secret obsession. An unhealthy number of pictures, magazines, and trinkets are all gathered alongside one wall. All of them picturing Rufus Shinra. White Gold fan club.
- Jackpot!
Finding what he was searching for, Nunchaku leaves the closet door wide open and his blazer on the floor before descending into the dark… with a dangerous sneer on his lips.
-
Distracted by the talking and the insane fact that he had Vice President Rufus Shinra here, alone, with him! Despite it, Pedro jerked his head up in alarm by the noise of a floorboard over them squeaking ever so lightly. Holding his breath for a few tense seconds of listening before visibly relaxing and turning his full attention back on his honored guest when there’s no more followed up sounds. After all, old wood do creak.
“Now, where were we, Mr. Vice president?” Pedro clears his throat in apology. Sinking back into his false sense of security. One of Pedro’s hands finds its way back onto Rufus’ shoulder…
Leaning closer to the drugged and tied up man, Pedro studies Rufus with an intense look of admiration. The grin is also back, but doesn’t stay on for long—
Snip! Snip!
Somewhere from the dark and unlit corners of the basement, echoes ominous sounds from a sharp scissor.
Losing most of the color from his face, Pedro turns instinctively towards the entrance door, clutching the shoulder of Rufus as if his life depended on it. But seeing no one there…
