#HardyGal OC Agent Jam

[hardygalwrites]

Day 21 Prompt: Bleeding

Prompt by @whumpmasinjuly (click here for the complete 2022​ itinerary)

Part of the “Team SA37 series”

← Prompt: "Make me” – TBA →

Feat. something a little shorter, basically the forced to watch trope, with a touch of hopeful teammate solidarity. 707 silently panicking beneath the floorboards, Tigress trying not to die beneath the floorboards, and Jam suffering and lying his ass off above the floorboards

WARNING: swearing, unseen torture via shoulder dislocation, threats of torture via broken bones

(image source)

bleeding (present participle of bleed), verb: lose blood from the body as a result of injury or illness

—

“Ready to share yet, kid?”

“Agent… Jam… Team SA–”

POP.

The broken shriek seemed to make the floorboards above 707’s face vibrate. 707 himself could feel his fists trembling. His jaw was starting to ache. It was a small wonder that the asshats walking around above him hadn’t yet heard his teeth grinding. Then again, 707 could barely hear his own thoughts over the fucking awful sounds Jam was currently making.

“Want us to go for your other shoulder next? Hm?”

Not like thinking about kicking the asses of every single bastard currently causing those sounds was going to do any damn good.

“Hey. Hey! Focus, kid. You’re not making things any easier for yourself fucking sniveling like that. Just man up and answer the question.”

The back of his shirt was becoming wet and tacky. The metallic tang of blood was starting to become almost overwhelming in the closed space. 707 latched onto the sharp smell and the correlating pain of his wounds, relying on his responsive instincts to stave off the ever increasing drowsiness.

“Wh– Which… question…? Ghk–!”

“Donavan. The family. Safe house. Where?”

707 nearly jolted when something fell over one of his clenched fists. He turned his head as sharply as he dared. Through the dim lighting, courtesy of the firelight peeking through the cracks of the floorboards, he saw Tigress. She still had her face turned towards the floorboards, eyes closed, facial features slack. Her hand felt… unnervingly cold over his own.

“I don’t– I can’t–”

707 grasped Tigress’s hand, eyes wide, breathing starting to pick up. Fuck, she was cold. Did she have a pulse? Yes, she still had a pulse, but… Fuck, she was cold.

“No… No, please, please, please, no…!”

Boots scraped and kicked desperately against the floorboards above. It hid the sound of waterproofed polyester shifting as 707 felt for Tigress’s injured thigh with a franticness to match. His hand came away slick with blood.

Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

“No! No, no, please!”

“One last chance, kid, and then we’ll move on to breaking fingers.”

One teammate was bleeding out beside him. One teammate was crying and begging above him. He was bleeding out right alongside the former. He had no way of backing up the latter.

Goddammit!

“It’s in the city! It’s in the city, that’s all I know, please…!”

“You’re going to have to be more specific, kid.”

He was cornered. He was cornered, and he had no fucking clue how to fight his way out of this one.

“I don’t– They never– I wasn’t t-told where it was specifically.”

Something fell over one of 707’s clenched fists once again, and once again, he looked at Tigress. Her eyes were still closed, and little had changed outside of a small draw in her brow and a suspicious glisten on her cheek.

“Only…”

“Only what? Don’t test my patience, kid, I’m still ready to match up your shoulders one way or another.”

Tigress’s cold fingers pressed beneath 707’s own, encouraging his fingers to unfurl. She clasped his hand.

“O-Only my seniors were p-privy to the exact location of the safe house... They thought I… c-couldn’t be trusted… with it…”

707 turned his face back up towards the floorboard. He closed his eyes, taking a deep and quiet breath. The air still smelt strongly of blood.

“Please, please, you have to believe me…”

“Hm. Okay. Go ahead and reset the shoulder.”

“Wait, wha–?”

POP.

707 grit his teeth as another wailing shriek tore through the floorboards.

“Think of that as a reward for finally cooperating. I’m sure your seniors will be very disappointed to find out they were right about you, but I for one appreciate it. Oi, tie him up. And find a way to shut him up as well, I’ve had enough of that whining.”

Boots dragged lethargically against the floorboards above. 707 curled his fingers around Tigress’s hand, clasped around his own, and squeezed ever so slightly. The gesture was returned in a barely noticeable tensing of cold fingers.

“Disappointed… Yeah…”

[hardygalwrites]

Day 6 Prompt: Hold On

Prompt by @whumpmasinjuly (click here for the complete 2022​ itinerary)

Part of the “Team SA37″ series

START – Prompt: Falling →

Feat. being lost in the woods while wounded, a rare instance of (an albeit panicky and hella stressed out) Agent Jam as the caretaker, Agent 707 not knowing what the hell is going on, and Agent Tigress... She’ll be showing up more later

WARNING: mentioned helicopter crash, mentioned gunshot wounds, a decent amount of swearing

(image source)

hold on, phrasal verb: to endure or keep going in difficult circumstances

—

“You’re gonna be fine, you’re gonna be fine, just hold on…”

What… What was going on?

“Hold on, Agent 707… You’re really strong and stubborn, right? So just hold on…”

His head hurt so badly. Concussion, a lifetime of experience suggested. The need to collapse and sink into unconsciousness corroborated that. God, why was it so fucking cold…?

“It’s cold, I know, just hold on… I’m– I’m sure we can find somewhere to…”

He knew that voice. Who the hell was yammering in his ear, non-stop, high-pitched, acutely distressed, fuck his head please shut the fuck up kid–

“‘m sorry, I’m just trying to keep you with me… You’re really… You’re gonna be fine.”

That sounded like a lie. Even instincts buried beneath a pulse of pain and fog could tell him that. Something vibrated in his throat, and he heard a hoarse groan.

“Stay with me, Agent 707…!”

There were other sounds besides the unending babble. Leaves rustling and branches cracking beneath heavy and uneven footsteps. The unpleasant scrape of waterproofed polyester rubbing against waterproofed polyester, coupled with heavy and uneven breathing–

His world tilted. Another groan vibrated in his throat as his ass hit the cold, hard ground, sending a jolt of agony through the haze. His head lolled back, resting against something rough and uncomfortable.

“Stay- Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Lighter, quicker, and more even footsteps faded away with the rustle and crackle of leaves and branches. What could have been a few seconds, a few minutes, or even a few hours later, the heavy and uneven footsteps returned, along with the yapping.

“It’s gonna be okay, you’ll be okay, just hold on…”

Something hit the ground beside him and leant against his shoulder. He turned his head and either he opened his eyes or his eyesight cleared, he could not tell. There beside him was… Tigress…?

Yeah, that was definitely his teammate. Blood trickling down the side of her face, breath only barely visible in the unbearable cold, dazed gaze meeting his own. Which must make the person doing all the yapping–

An arm slid behind his back, draping his own arm over a pair of shoulders, and he was pulled up from the miserable ground with another hoarse groan.

“Okay… You’re doing great, Agent 707, really- really exemplifying the best fighter in Double Eye, you’re doing so great, hold on…”

His shoes dragged along the ground, his body jostled with every heavy and uneven footstep beside him, and goddamn he really wanted to go back into the unconscious darkness at least it was quiet and painless there…

“O-Oh wait, um, you aren’t really… Heh, you aren’t really the positive affirmation type, huh? More, um…”

The arm supporting his back roughly adjusted its grip, forcing him more upright. Another jolt of agony shot through the haze.

“C’mon, you jackass, aren’t you supposed to be Double Eye’s best fighter? All- All that tough guy stuff, all the times you’ve been… gettin’ on me ‘n telling me t’ man up, and you’re seriously gonna get taken down… by a few bullets and a- and a crash? Didn’t… Didn’t ‘xpect you t’ be a hypocrite…”

Okay, goddammit.

707 shifted his free arm, intending to push his palm against the kid’s face. He only succeeded in sluggishly swiping at the air in front of him, his body too heavy to do much else, so instead he grumbled, “Newbie…”

“Huh?” The faux contempt dissipated in an instant. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

“Sh’t the f’ck up…”

Jam let out a sigh, more one of relief than dejection, sagging slightly beneath 707’s arm. “Right, okay, ‘m sorry…”

707 lifted his head, teeth grit against the pain and heaviness, and attempted to take in his surroundings. It was a bit hard to see anything. He couldn’t tell if that was due to his dazed state or dwindling daylight, but he could at least make out trees. Lots and lots and lots of trees. An unending amount of trees. God, why were there so many trees?

“Wha’ happened…?” 707 mumbled. His head lolled as he looked up and around at all the goddamn trees.

“Our helicopter crashed,” Jam replied quickly, breathlessly. “I didn’t get too banged up, thank goodness…”

“H’licopter–?”

His heart leapt into his throat as Jam stumbled, nearly sending both of them pitching face first into the forest floor with a small yelp. Jam just managed to catch himself. 707 heard the kid panting, felt the kid’s grip tightening around his arm and back, as he pushed forward without pause.

“’m just trying to find someplace safe,” Jam continued. “Somewhere to– to hide out, to patch up you and Agent Tigress…”

“Tigress…” 707 looked down at the small (or average, as Jam so persistently insisted) agent supporting him. “What, wh’re ‘s she…?”

Jam twisted his head around, looking behind them. “She’s– Just a sec…”

He dipped down, and for a moment 707 thought the kid had tripped again, but no, he was just placing 707 onto the ground. The jostling triggered more jolts of agony, and 707 grimaced as Jam placed him against one of the many trees.

“I’ll be right back,” Jam said, raising his palms in a ‘stay here’ type gesture.

The kid’s hands were shaking, 707 noted dully. It was probably due to the cold. God knew winter never agreed with 707.

As soon as he assured 707 that he would be right back, Jam turned and rushed back the way they had come. Through the haze and failing light, 707 could just barely make out a familiar shock of red-dyed hair not too far away in that direction. Jam reached the red haired figure within a few seconds. He bent down and swung her arm over his shoulder, before pulling her to her feet and walking her back in 707’s direction, all the while yapping and muttering.

A minute or so later, Jam dropped Tigress onto the ground beside 707.

“Hey, Tigress…” 707 muttered wearily, not even bothering to turn his head this time.

“Hey… Seven…” Tigress replied, sounding equally weary.

Standing above the two of them, Jam leant his hands against his knees, his breaths sounding more like gulps and hiccups.

“It’ll be okay, guys,” he quavered in between breaths. “Just hold on a bit longer…”

Before he knew it, 707 once again found himself being pulled upright and practically dragged through the forest.

“Just a bit farther…” Jam continued to babble, voice quieter but just as infuriatingly distracting. “Just gotta find something before nightfall…”

A tree bumped against 707’s shoulder as they passed it, and his senses went white. His knees buckled completely, something strangled and grinding clawed at his throat, and the only thing keeping him from eating dirt was the rookie agent who stood almost a full head shorter than 707 himself.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…!” Jam exclaimed. “Oh my god, I’m sorry…! Here…!”

707 barely noticed as Jam dropped him down against a tree again. His breathing hissed quickly and harshly through grit teeth, his hands clenched and unclenched at the dirt and leaves around him.

Gunshot wound, a little less than a lifetime of experience suggested. Multiple ones actually, if the more concentrated pulses of pain were any indication.

“Just rest a sec,” he could hear Jam telling him. “I’m- I’m so sorry… Just hold on…”

707 cracked one eye open and watched as Jam hurried and stumbled back towards where Tigress still sat against the previous tree.

God, what the fuck was going on…? He really needed to sleep…

[hardygalwrites]

Day 18 Prompt: “Make me”

Prompt by @whumpmasinjuly (click here for the complete 2022​ itinerary)

Part of the “Team SA37 series”

← Prompt: Numb – Prompt: Bleeding →

Feat. some rising action if I’ve ever seen some! A return to form as I put Jam in peril! 707 and Tigress hidden beneath the floorboards! And me basically giving up on doing these prompts on time :]

WARNING: some swearing, implied promises of torture

(image source)

make, verb: to compel (someone) to do something - “Make me.”

—

Given that he had made the optimistic declaration that perhaps his luck was finally turning around, at least a little bit, he should have seen this coming. “Way to fucking jinx it” Agent 707 had said, and Jam was absolutely echoing that sentiment right now.

Stumbling through the snow, the air seeming to freeze in his lungs with every inhale, Jam frantically retraced his footsteps back to the cabin. Dusk was falling fast, but that was almost certainly more to his detriment than those currently searching the forest.

They were out here with trucks and guns. They had to have flashlights on them as well.

Jam registered the orange glow of the windows before he registered the overall shape of the cabin, and he burst in through the door and slammed it shut behind him.

“Jam?” 707 exclaimed. “What’s going on?”

“Moss’s guys are out there, looking for us…!” Jam relayed quickly, glancing out one of the windows before rushing over to the trapdoor. “It’s only a matter of time before they find this place…!”

“God fucking dammit…”

Jam all but yanked the floorboards open. “You two can hide in here. And hope Moss doesn’t know anything about this cabin…!”

“Hm…? What’s happening?” Tigress mumbled sleepily.

“Wait, what about you?” 707 asked.

Jam could see 707’s eyes narrowing at him in something close to a glare as Jam rushed over to the side of the cot.

“There’s only enough room for the two of you,” Jam said, helping Tigress sit upright.

“Wait…” Tigress shook her head, clearly disoriented. “Wait, Jam, what’s going on?”

“Moss’s guys are out there, and I don’t know when they’ll reach us, but I know they will…! Come on…”

One of Tigress’s arms slung over his shoulders, Jam pulled the older agent up from the cot. Tigress groaned and her head lolled slightly, but the bleariness in her eyes started to clear as Jam led her towards the trapdoor.

“Wait, wait a moment,” Tigress murmured. “You said earlier that Seven and I would be able to fit in that secret crawlspace you found…”

“He just said there’s only enough room for the two of us,” 707 called out.

Jam could practically feel the glare at the back of his head as he eased Tigress down beside the hole in the floorboards.

“Just the two of…” Tigress suddenly gripped the sleeve of Jam’s parka, and despite her weakened state, both her hold and the sharp stare that accompanied it were alarmingly stark. “Jam, what about you?”

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on havin’ a fucking standoff with those guys, kid,” 707 sniped tightly.

Jam grit his teeth. His heart was pounding a bruise against his ribcage, his breath was still cold and dry in his throat, and his whole body felt like a wound up spring. The urge to just break down and start screaming or crying or something was only increasing, as it had been ever since the crash.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t. Not now.

“I know…” Jam’s voice shook, and he took a deep breath, forcing it to steady. “I know you guys don’t want to hide like this. But you’re both hurt, and I can’t… I can’t carry both of you away from here fast enough.”

Jam looked up at 707, but he spoke to both of the senior agents as he said, “I’ll hide from them outside. Like- Like give them the runaround or something…! I know it’s not the best option, but dammit… Dammit, it’s the only option we have.”

707 turned his glare towards one of the walls. Tigress eased her grip on Jam’s sleeve.

“Goddammit,” Tigress sighed. “He’s right.”

“I know,” 707 grumbled.

Jam let out a breath. “Thank you…”

Helping Tigress into the secret crawlspace was a quick process that had Jam muttering apology after apology under his breath as Tigress hissed and winced at every contact and movement of her injured limbs. There was blood seeping through the bandages wrapped around her thigh, but Jam could only glance at it and bite his lip. There was no time to take care of it. He could only hope that Moss’s people wouldn’t be searching around here for too long.

Soon, only Tigress’s chest and head was visible as she lay within the crawlspace, and after another glance out the windows, Jam hurried to guide 707 in alongside Tigress.

“If you get killed and leave us to bleed out beneath the floorboards,” 707 mumbled, “I’ll start believing in a fucking afterlife just so I can kick your ass.”

“I’ll try not to– I won’t get killed, then,” Jam replied.

Tigress and 707 didn’t look especially comfortable being smushed together in a small space. 707 in particular not only had to bend his legs in order to fit, but also had his injured shoulder pressed up against Tigress. Yet, neither agent said a word.

“Hey! Check this out!”

The shout was only barely audible, but it still caught Jam’s ears just enough to have him shooting to his feet and looking out the nearest window. Beams of artificial light shone in the darkness outside.

“Oh, crap…!” Jam dropped down to a crouch and grabbed the crawlspace cover. “They’re coming…!”

“Get out of here,” 707 hissed, in time with Tigress saying, “Quick, you have to go.”

Jam slammed the floorboards over the hole in the floor, hiding the senior agents from view.

“Stay quiet, don’t move around too much, I’ll be back as soon as possible…!” he whispered.

Scrambling to his feet, Jam aimed to rush for the door, but another surveying glance at the window showed that the beams of light outside were a lot closer than before and getting even closer at an alarming pace.

“Shit…!”

Jam ran for the other window, fingers scrabbling for the underside in an effort to pry it open. The frame and seal creaked and cracked as Jam forced the window up. A blast of cold air hit his face and Jam hauled himself through the window. He only managed to get his head and chest through before he heard the door slam open and more than one gun cock behind him.

“Don’t you fucking move!” an unfamiliar voice bellowed.

Jam stood frozen, hands on the window sill, torso halfway out the window.

Oh, hell… What was he supposed to do? This wasn’t supposed to happen! Could he risk making a break for it?

“Now step away from that window, put your hands on your head, and turn around,” the unfamiliar voice ordered. “Try anything funny, and you’ll be filled with more holes than you’ll be able to live with.”

Well, that answered that question.

“Okay,” Jam whispered, slowly withdrawing from the window and placing his hands on his head. “Just… take it easy.”

His heart was pounding again. Jam resisted the urge to glance at where Tigress and 707 were hidden as he turned to face three people dressed in winter gear and holding rifles.

“Well would you look at that.” The person standing in the middle smirked - a tall woman, about SA37’s height. “You’re one of the SOBs who stole Moss’s hostages. Get on your knees.”

Jam tightened his hands around his head and complied, dropping down to one knee, and then the other.

“There’s a good boy.” The woman jerked her head towards one of the people standing beside her. “Get on the radio and tell everyone we found one of Donavan’s hirelings.”

While the person obeyed, turning and jogging out the cabin door, Jam stared the woman in the eye.

He could only hope that he looked steadier than he sounded as he said, “That family’s already been transferred to a safe house by now. You’re… You’re wasting your time looking for them out here.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “You think we’re out here looking for them?”

Honestly no, but Jam simply allowed his mouth to drop open slightly, saying nothing.

“We all saw those annoying pieces of shit getting flown off into the sunset, leaving you and a few other of Donavan’s underlings behind to crash Moss’s chopper in the middle of this god-fucking-forsaken forest.”

The woman lowered her gun, but the one remaining man standing beside her kept his own gun trained on Jam while the woman took a glance around the cabin.

“Where’d your buddies go? Pretty sure I remember there being at least two more of you.”

“They went out to look for help a few hours ago,” Jam replied, again resisting the urge to glance at the floorboards. “I don’t know where they are now.”

“Hmm.” The woman’s gaze passed over the open first aid kit. “Pretty fucking stupid of them to go out there, especially after a crash like that.”

“They’re my seniors,” Jam retorted helplessly. “I couldn’t exactly argue with them.”

“Well since you’re being so talkative, why don’t you tell me where that safe house is?”

The question was not unexpected. A part of Jam had been banking on the question being asked.

And yet, Jam blanched. “I…”

He could tell the truth. Tell her that he had no idea where the safe house was, that the client had never disclosed where exactly his family was going to be relocated following the rescue mission. Support his statement by pointing out that he and his fellow agents had been left behind, asking if she really expected someone who would do something like that to trust others with the eventual location of his family.

But even if she were to believe him, then… Jam was useless to her and Moss. They would have no reason to keep him alive. 707 and Tigress would probably be trapped out here, injured and alone, and he, Jam, would probably be dead.Jam licked his lips and met the woman’s eyes again. “I can’t tell you that…”

The woman’s eyes narrowed, just as the person she had sent outside rushed back into the cabin. “Hey, they wanna know what’s next.”

“Tell everyone to fall back to the estate and wait for contact,” the woman replied. “Except Jones and Graves, tell them to get their asses over here.”

“Roger that.”

As the person left the cabin a second time, the woman approached Jam, who was still kneeling on the floor, hands behind his head, and trying not to flinch at the approach.

“Let’s wait and see if your ‘seniors’ ever come back,” she said.

A combat knife flashed in her hand, and Jam couldn't hold back the flinch as she pointed the blade up at his face.

“Maybe they’ll be more willing to share, given the circumstances. But until then, let’s see if we can’t make you more willing to share.”

She gently pushed a few bangs away from his face. Jam swallowed.

Don’t look at the floorboards… Do not look at the floorboards…

“I can take it,” Jam said, his voice surprisingly steady given how tight his throat was.

‘Agent 707, Agent Tigress, I’m so sorry, I’ll try to fix this…’

The woman’s eyes glinted in the firelight. “Oh ho ho. That’s what I like to hear.”

[hardygalwrites]

Day 15 Prompt: Numb

Prompt by @whumpmasinjuly (click here for the complete 2022​ itinerary)

Part of the “Team SA37 series”

← Prompt: Rebellion – Prompt: “Make me” →

Feat. me being a day late again more of caretaker!Jam, him still being on survival mode, a lot of stuttering, and everyone being really freakin cold

WARNING: some swearing (707 seems to do a lot of that I don’t know how this happened)

(image source)

numb, adjective: (of a part of the body) deprived of the power of physical sensation OR unable to think, feel, or respond normally

—

It was cold.

That was the first thing Tigress noticed when she was slowly and miserably dragged from sleep to something resembling wakefulness. Her body felt stiff and she could barely feel her fingers or toes. The rest of her body she could definitely feel though, as proven when Tigress tried to curl up on her side, only for her leg to immediately punish her in the form of throbbing pain. The resulting groan came out hoarse and shuddery.

“Hey, f-finally awake- awake, huh?”

Tigress turned her head and looked down to see 707, still lying on the ground beside the cot, but awake this time. He looked just as cold and miserable as she was - teeth grit, body shaking, hands clearly clenched around the underside of the blanket still covering him.

After taking note of 707’s presence, Tigress glanced around the cabin with slightly bleary eyes.

“Good- Good morning t’ you too,” 707 grumbled.

Light peeked in through the windows, rendered white and washed out by the snow falling in a relentless sheet outside. The windows and door were still rattling, though slightly less so than before. The fire appeared to have gone out, save for a few sad embers. And, most notably, Jam was nowhere to be seen.

“Wh-ere’s… Jam?” Tigress asked.

707 shook his head. “F-Fuck if I know… Wasn’t here when I– woke up.”

“How long ago… was th-that?”

“Few minutes ‘go maybe…” 707 grunted and groaned as he slowly pushed himself into an upright position. “K-Kinda hard t’ tell.”

Following 707’s suit in slowly and painfully sitting upright, Tigress glanced back at the embers in the fireplace. “P-Perhaps… he went to get more firewood.”

“Sp-eakin’ of,” 707 said, tucking his hands tight beneath his armpits. “Where the h-hell are we?”

“A cabin that Jam found… H-He carried us here… after the cr- crash.”

“God-damn. W-Wouldn’t’ve ‘xpected that…”

Tigress could not deny she was still surprised by that as well.

“He s-said you punched him in the face,” she added.

707 let out a shivery laugh. “Y-Yeah? G- Guess that urge’s finally outta my system th-en…”

The two just sat there for a few moments, shivering, wincing, staring at the rattling door.

Within those few moments, Tigress began the still slow but far more excruciating process of shifting her legs off the side of the cot. Biting back her whines and groans, she took care not to accidentally kick 707 in the head. Not like she would have done much damage given how slowly she was moving. Tigress barely even felt the pressure of the shoe soles against her feet as she planted them on the wooden floor.

“T-Two injured agents,” Tigress hissed, “v-venturing out into a snowstorm…”

“Y-Yeah, kinda g-guaranteed suicide…” 707 muttered. “Sh- it.”

The door burst open. It was a testament to just how numb and exhausted they were that both Tigress and 707 could not do much more than flinch and watch as a smaller figure rushed into the cabin in a flurry of snow and cold wind. Said figure quickly slammed the door behind them with their body before turning to face the two agents.

“H-Hey, you g-guys are awa- awake,” Jam stuttered out, his face largely hidden by the parka hood pulled tightly over his face and the bundle of wood clutched in his arms. “S-Sorry ‘bout the– J-J-Just gimme a s-ec.”

Jam stumbled and rushed past the two of them, dropping to his knees in front of the fireplace and dumping the wood onto the floor in front of it.

“I tr-ied to stay up,” Jam said as he began poking and placing some of the wood into the fireplace embers, “b-but I th-ink I fell asl-sleep ‘round when it got light.”

He blew on the embers for a second, before scrambling to his feet and stumbling over to the table. Tigress saw him grab a box of matches, and then he was kneeling back in front of the fireplace, poking some smaller twigs into the embers.

“Fire must’ve… F-Fire went out while I was s-sleeping,” Jam continued his explanatory ramble. The box of matches rattled in his hand as he opened it and pulled out a single match. “S-So sorry ‘bout that.”

With clearly trembling hands, Jam struggled to light the match.

“Jam,” Tigress started, but the match lit up at that moment, and Jam carefully lit the kindling (as carefully as one could with trembling hands).

After a few seconds of coaxing, a small fire started to grow within the fireplace. Tigress found herself instinctively leaning towards the growing warmth.

“Okay,” Jam sighed. He stood up and spread his arm towards the fireplace. “Th-There we go. Sorry–”

“Jam.” Tigress looked the younger agent in the eye as he turned to her. “Th-ank you.”

Jam’s hood had fallen back at some point during his frantic attempts to reignite the fire, giving Tigress a clear view of his face. It was pale, making the bruise on his cheek stand out starkly. His eyes looked to be slightly bloodshot. Despite all of that, Jam still lit up ever so slightly as he gave her a small smile and nod.

Over the next few minutes, the fire continued to grow along with the heat, until the fire was a modest blaze and the heat eased the shivers of every agent within the cabin. Meanwhile, Jam took the time to check on their injuries.

“How are you feeling?” Jam asked as he pulled back 707’s parka to check his shoulder and side.

“Like I got shot,” 707 deadpanned. “Ow! Fuck!”

“Sorry!” Jam lifted his hands away from the older agent, looking alarmed. “I was just trying to see how fresh this blood is…! It looks like the wound in your back here bled through a little bit.”

707 puffed out his cheeks with a harsh breath. “Don’t give me another excuse to punch you, newbie...”

Jam let out a small chuckle and covered the bruise on his cheek. “What about you, Agent Tigress?”

“Still a bit tired,” Tigress admitted. She allowed Jam to pull back her parka to check on her bicep. “My leg is absolutely killing me, I won’t lie.”

“Well, it looks like all of your bandages are okay for now,” Jam said slowly. “Let’s just hope it stays that way until we can get help.”

“How are you feeling, Jam?”

“Me? I’m fine…! I’m not the one who got shot!”

Tigress narrowed her eyes at Jam, but she could see nothing except the physical signs that he was undergoing any stress. Jam seemed oblivious to Tigress’s evaluating gaze as he got up and walked over to the corner with the table.

“I’ve been spending a lot of time looking over this cabin while you guys were sleeping, and check this out…”

Crouching down, Jam slipped his fingertips into a small notch in the floorboards. He pulled, and a portion of the floorboards gave way to the force, slotting out from the ground and revealing a large hole beneath the floorboards.

Jam looked up at Tigress and 707 with a grin. “Secret trapdoor.”

“Cool,” 707 muttered. “Find anything in there to get us outta this shit?”

“Well… no,” Jam admitted, his face and posture falling. “It’s just a small, like, little storage area type thing.”

“Was there anything stored in there?” Tigress asked.

“No. Not that I could find...” Jam placed the floorboards back into their slot, and the hole disappeared. “But! I climbed inside, and I’d say it’s big enough that you guys could fit if you needed to. Y’know, if Moss happens to track us down.”

“God, well, way to fuckin’ jinx it,” 707 said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

“Heh.” Jam stood up, his smile and laugh slightly rueful. “My luck does seem to have gotten pretty bad since joining Double Eye. But hey! I didn’t get shot yesterday, so maybe that’s changing…!”

“I dunno about that one, kid.”

Either Jam did not care to respond or he was distracted by whatever was going on outside, his gaze drawn to one of the windows. Which, Tigress only now realised, were no longer rattling.

“Jam,” Tigress said slowly, “are you sure you’re all right?”

“Looks like the snowstorm’s stopped!” Jam exclaimed. “You two stay here, I’m gonna go and see if there’s, like, a path or anything that could help us out.”

“Wait, what?” 707 sounded genuinely incredulous. “Kid–”

Jam was already gone, parka zipped up, hood over his head, door pulled shut behind him.

“Dammit,” 707 growled. He tried to stand up, but quickly fell back on the ground with a pained swear. “Stupid kid. Little shit’s gonna collapse out in the middle of nowhere.”

“He’s on adrenaline,” Tigress said, “but that’s only going to last so long.”

“Tch. He’s more stubborn than 37.”

Tigress glanced at her teammate, who currently had his head tipped back against the cot and was frowning at the wooden ceiling.

“Yeah,” Tigress murmured.

She lay back on the cot and joined 707 in staring at the ceiling and in being uncertain of whether or not that trait was a good or a bad thing.

[hardygalwrites]

Day 9 Prompt: Falling

Prompt by @whumpmasinjuly (click here for the complete 2022​ itinerary)

Part of the “Team SA37 series”

← Prompt: Hold On – Prompt: Rebellion →

Feat. an extended flashback/nightmare sequence, being cooped up in an isolated cabin while wounded, talk of field treatment, more of Agent Tigress (as promised), and more of caretaker!Agent Jam

WARNING: some swearing, gunfights shown via extended flashback, gun shot wounds, a helicopter crash shown via extended flashback

(image source)

falling (present participle of fall), verb: moving from a higher to a lower level, typically rapidly and without control OR passing into a specified state, situation, or position

—

A bullet pierced her bicep. Tigress screamed as she drew back behind the pillar, clutching at the wound.

“Agent Tigress!” she heard Jam exclaim. “Are you okay?!”

Teeth grit, breathing forcefully steady, Tigress tilted her head back against the pillar, grounding—

Tigress watched in shock as the helicopter that had brought them to their current location ascended into the sky. SA37 looked down at her from the still open door of the helicopter, matching her shock and displaying more overt terror in his expression than Tigress had seen in a long time. Even over the gunfire and the spinning helicopter rotors, Tigress could hear him yelling at the pilot, but despite SA37’s demands, the helicopter continued its ascent and took off.

Leaving the rest of Team SA37 behind.

“Where are they going?!” Jam shouted in disbelief.

“Fuck!” 707 rushed behind the pillar across from Tigress and Jam, all but collapsing behind it as he clutched at a bleeding shoulder. “That goddamn pilot ditched us!”

“We noticed!” Tigress yelled back.

Jam poked his head behind the pillar for a moment, firing off a few more suppressing shots, before withdrawing. “Was the family on board at least?”

“Yeah!” 707 snapped. “Fucking bastard took off soon as 37 got ‘em on board!”

It made sense. The pilot belonged to their client, and their client had made it clear he wanted his daughter and her family back by any means necessary.

Tigress grit her teeth again. Well, there was no use complaining about it now. Finding a new way out took immediate priority. She cast her eyes over the helipad and immediately locked on to their potential salvation.

“How–?!” Jam flinched as a piece of the pillar was blown off. “How do we get outta this, then?!”

“Seven!” Tigress shouted and pointed at the residence helicopter. “Think you can fly that?”

“Ehh, probably!” 707 replied. “It’s our best shot!”

That was true, and no amount of discontent about the use of ‘probably’ would change that. Besides, Tigress had long since learned to have faith in 707’s abilities over the years.

“We’ll cover you! Go!”

Tigress dared poke around behind the pillar again, despite the bullet in her bicep, and aided Jam in providing cover fire as 707 dashed towards the—

707 collapsed against the side of the helicopter, growling and cursing, blood spurting out from his leg and side. Nonetheless, the ever stubborn agent staggered upright and into the helicopter.

Forcing down the fear that had seized her heart for the briefest of moments, Tigress nudged Jam urgently. “You next! Get to the helicopter!”

Jam paused, but did not move, his eyes flickering towards Tigress’s still bleeding arm. “But...”

“Now!”

The younger agent didn’t argue this time. Tigress provided cover fire as Jam rushed towards the helicopter. To Tigress’s immense relief, he sustained no injury and threw himself into the helicopter just as the blades started turning. Scrambling behind the walls of the helicopter, Jam beckoned towards her frantically.

“Come on! I’ll cover you!” he shouted.

Tigress didn’t hesitate. She dashed for the—

Tigress pitched forward and fell against the floor of the helicopter, choking on the pain radiating from her calf and thigh.

“Tigress!”

A pair of hands grabbed onto her arms and coat, hauling her the rest of the way into the helicopter. She could hear the rising whirr of the rotors, the continuous gunfire of their pursuers, and the grind and slam of a sliding door being flung shut.

“Okay, let’s go!”

“I’m fucking working on it!”

Tigress growled as Jam jostled and maneuvered her into one of the seats. “Goddamn, that hurts...”

A few bullets shattered through the window, and Tigress and Jam ducked down—

An explosion rocked the outside of the helicopter, pitching it almost sideways.

“Fuck!” 707 screamed. “They hit—!“

Tigress was getting dizzy, and she didn’t know if that was due to the steady blood loss or the spinning descent of the helicopter. She gripped the harness keeping her strapped in, eyes clenched tight against the disorientating chaos.

“Brace yourselves!” 707 shouted.

“Oh my word, oh my word, oh my word…!” Jam was babbling in a frantically repetitive—

CRASH—

Everything hurt. What was happening?

“Agent Tigress. Agent Tigress!”

Someone yanked and pulled at her harness until it came undone, and she fell forward, impacting against someone’s—

It was cold. She could hear branches and leaves scraping beneath her shoes.

“You’re doing great, Agent Tigress, just– just like always, hold on…”

She would have liked to sleep, but instinct, concern, and common sense told her that was not—

She was lying against 707’s shoulder and he against hers. It really aggravated the wound in her bicep, but she was too tired to do much more than groan quietly.

It was dark, but she could still see Jam standing over them, holding his palms up towards them while he looked at something off to the side. “Stay there, I’m gonna go check it out.”

He jogged out of sight before she could tell him to be—

It was warm. Someone was screaming. She was screaming. Agony forced its way through grit teeth, fingernails scraped and clawed at worn fabric, her legs twitched and spasmed as something pressed over her thigh.

“I’m almost done, I’m almost done, god, I’m so—!”

“Agent Tigress?”

Tigress jolted awake with a strangled gasp, the barely audible murmur of her designation, accompanied by the feather-light touch on her shoulder, wrenching her from sleep. She attempted to grab at whoever was touching her, but a throbbing pain in her bicep put a quick stop to that motion.

“God, shit…” she ground out, tilting her head back.

“Yeah, be careful,” a concerned voice said. “I did what I could, but… you’re still kinda messed up.”

Cracking her eyes open again, Tigress turned her grimacing face to see Jam standing over her, his hands hovering in either a calming gesture or a defensive one.

“Sorry about waking you like that,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Tigress let out a breath, relaxing her body and allowing it to sink into the soft surface beneath her. “It’s fine. You simply startled me. Years of Double Eye employment tends to sharpen the fight-or-flight response.”

She allowed herself a rueful chuckle, before taking a few moments to absorb and evaluate her surroundings. “Where are we?”

They looked to be inside a small, wooden cabin. There were only two windows, and they were completely dark. Both the windows and the single door rattled with the force of the howling wind outside. The only light within the cabin came from a generous fire blazing gently within a fireplace built into the corner, casting eerie shadows over the small interior.

The cot that Tigress was currently lying on was pressed up against the wall beside the fireplace. A small cabinet sat in a separate corner of the cabin, and across from that, in the opposite corner, sat a table and chair. A few items were scattered about the table, including an open first aid kit.

A lot of these observations came secondary to who Tigress saw lying on the floor beside her cot. 707 was laid out on a pile of blankets and covered by another. His brow was drawn, but he appeared to be fast asleep.

As Tigress took all of this in, Jam answered her question, saying, “Some cabin. Thank goodness it was here. I don’t know what I would’ve done if we hadn’t stumbled onto it…”

Tigress turned her attention back to the younger agent. Jam was now looking about the cabin himself, a flicker of anxiety in his features as he fiddled with the cuffs of his shirt. He looked no worse for wear considering Tigress was pretty sure they had all just come out of a helicopter crash, though his hands and clothes were stained with blood, his eyes were slightly sunken, and there was a brilliant bruise forming on his cheek.

“I remember our helicopter getting shot down,” Tigress murmured, turning her gaze back towards the ceiling and her thoughts towards her hazy memory.

“Yeah.” Jam nodded out of the corner of her eye. “You and Agent 707 were pretty messed up. I mean… you were already shot, but the crash definitely didn’t help you guys. I didn’t wanna risk any of Moss’s guys finding us there, so I just… dragged the two of you through the woods until we found something. It’s snowing now, so hopefully our trail is covered up or something.”

Jam was glancing out one of the rattling windows when Tigress looked at him again, her brow creasing.

“You carried both of us?” she asked, and she blamed her exhaustion on being unable to temper her incredulousness.

Not that Jam was not at least average when it came to his strength, but Tigress could hardly imagine him carrying both her and 707 at once.

“Not at the same time, I just kinda…” Jam waved his hand in an alternating gesture. “Went back and forth until we found this cabin. I found a first aid kit in that cabinet over there and… tried my best to patch you guys up…”

A quick glance at her bicep confirmed that the bullet wound was wrapped up tight. There was already a small pinprick of blood bleeding through it. Tigress decided not to wonder just how long these bandages had been sitting in this cabin.

“I- I was most worried about the wound in your thigh,” Jam added quickly, pointing towards her legs. “The bullet went straight through, so… yeah…”

Tigress slowly, almost sluggishly, lifted the musty blanket away from the one leg that was throbbing with a similar pain to her arm. Over her bloodsoaked pant leg, she could see more bandages wrapped around her thigh and calf, especially around her thigh.

“Nothing bleeding through,” she mumbled, and allowed the blanket to fall back over her as she looked back up at the ceiling.

“Thank goodness,” Jam breathed. “I- I tried my best. Agent 707 punched me in the face at one point, but– Accidentally, I mean…! You know, years of Double Eye employment and all. But I managed.”

Tigress turned her head. Her eyesight was beginning to blur, eyelids becoming heavy. “Find anything else in this cabin…?”

“Nothing that would help us call for help,” Jam sighed, glancing at the table behind him. “Just a box full of, like, hunting rifle bullets. No rifle though. An old kettle, I think. And a can of beans. Heh… Don’t know how long those’ve been there.”

Tigress smirked slightly. “I would hope we won’t be around long enough to worry about that…”

Jam let out another breathy laugh. “Heh… I would hope that too.”

A heavy silence filled the tiny cabin, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the howling of the wind outside.

They were stranded who knows where. Moss was more likely to find them before SA37 did. It was unlikely SA37 would even be provided the resources to find them considering the client seemed to have effectively abandoned them. The medical situation for herself and 707 was far less than ideal. They had no way of knowing how far or in what direction help could be found…

Tigress kept all of these musings to herself. Jam had to be just as aware of their plight as she was, perhaps even moreso. She did not need to aggravate the young agent’s anxiety. It would be unnecessary, not to mention a rotten reward for everything he had done so far.

Speaking of Jam, he broke the silence, murmuring, “You should probably get some sleep, Agent Tigress. Don’t worry, I’m keeping an eye out for anything.”

Tigress wanted to tell him he needed to get some sleep too. Wanted to tell him thank you for patching her up as best he could, given the circumstances. Wanted to tell him how impressive it was, persevering enough to drag two downed teammates this far. Wanted to tell him, however irrationally, that everything would be fine.

This was Agent Jam, the rookie agent of Team SA37 after all - lord knew he needed to hear those kinds of things.

Her heavy eyelids finally slipped shut, and Tigress fell back into the soothing embraces of sleep, saying none of those things.

[hardygalwrites]

Third Time’s the Harm - Part 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Part of the “Team SA37″ series

Agent Jam’s third ever mission as a Double Eye agent takes a turn when he’s captured by the target. (originally posted under the URL @shsl-whump on May of 2018)

Artwork commissioned from @theeternalcynic / @go-whump-in-the-night​ on December 26th, 2021. Massive thank you to them for taking my request during the holidays :3

WARNING: captivity, torture via electrocution, attempted manipulation, less than optimal sense of self-worth

–

Jam hated this room. It was so clean and fancy and shiny. The wallpaper was gold and white, the king-sized bed was adorned with silk sheets, the minibar was stocked with some of the finest liquor, and the tables were made out of hell damned mahogany. Even the chair he was tied to was solid and intricately hand carved.

Then there was him, tired, hungry, thirsty, sweaty, and filthy. He wasn’t even dressed to at least look elegantly bedraggled - he still wore the same jeans and tee he’d put on… what, two days ago? Three days ago? He couldn’t remember. Time tended to blur when he was in pain.

“Good morning, Agent Jam.”

Speaking of pain…

Cyrus appeared in front of him, all washed and groomed and refreshed and smiling and damn Jam just wanted to punch him! Then Cyrus leaned down to eye level and Jam just wanted to sink into the ground and disappear. Anything to escape this madman.

“How are you feeling?”

Jam didn’t even give him a look.

“You know very well now that your discomfort is only temporary, agent,” Cyrus said, as though he had read Jam’s un-emoted thought. “You only need to submit yourself to my flock.

“But…” He stood up straight, giving Jam’s hair a ruffle. “…that’s a conversation for after breakfast.”

His two most devoted followers then entered the room, each carrying a covered tray.

They set the trays on the table in front of Jam, and Cyrus sat down at the other end of the table. His followers removed the tray covers, revealing a perfectly fancy breakfast.

Jam hated everything.

It took forever for Cyrus to finish his damn breakfast. As usual, he seemed to have this obnoxious need to savour every bite of food, every sip of drink. He hummed in satisfaction, shaking his head every so often, as though constantly stunned by the deliciousness of what he was eating. It took every remaining scrap of dignity Jam still had to keep from staring.

He was hungry.

Unheavenly hungry.

And thirsty too.

But he was determined not to start behaving like a begging dog. Not yet, anyway.

Cyrus finally finished eating the expensive looking breakfast. Jam couldn’t help but notice that there was plenty still leftover. As his followers removed the breakfast trays, Cyrus turned his attention, as he always did, to the agent tied to the chair in front of him. Jam avoided his gaze, some deep seated instinct telling him that if he just didn’t make eye contact…

“So, here we are again, agent.” Cyrus sighed. “Another day, another chance for reform.”

Jam laughed. It was short and harsh and not at all genuine, but he just couldn’t help it. ‘Reform.’ It sounded so nice and gentle, the same way this room looked so comfortable and inviting.

“Laugh now, Agent Jam,” Cyrus warned, sounding uncannily like an admonishing caretaker. “Remember, you attempted to enter my flock through deceptive means. It is only fair I make you see the truth, so you may then join me without deception.”

Something was draped over his eyes, and Jam gasped, sudden fear kickstarting his fight-or-flight response.

“Wait…!”

Despite Jam’s frantic cry, the silk blindfold - even the damn torture methods had to be luxurious! - was tied tightly around his eyes. As Jam attempted to shake it off, a pair of hands grabbed the back of his chair and dragged it back, away from the table.

It really was true that all other senses appeared to be heightened when one was deprived of sight. Jam was acutely aware of his own heartbeat and his own rapid breaths. He was acutely aware of where the ropes chafed his skin and where his body still ached from the last… whatever the hell this was. He could hear Cyrus moving towards him, practically smell the lingering scent of his breakfast. He could hear the click-clack of something metal and plastic being handled, sense it being passed to Cyrus’s waiting presence.

Had Jam’s body always been this tense?

“Wait,” he gasped, pushing himself back against the chair. “Don’t.”

“You are blind to the truth.” Cyrus’s voice came less than two feet away from Jam’s face. “It is a long road, but I can help you.”

“No…” Jam shook his head, voice breaking a little.

“You first must acknowledge me as teacher,” Cyrus continued, his voice this time coming from behind Jam. “That is all I ask.”

“Ple–“

Had he been about to beg? Jam wasn’t sure - his mind was largely on auto-pilot. Regardless, he never got to finish what he wanted to say. Instead, the word was replaced with a piercing cry as a harsh pain erupted in his side. It was gone almost as soon as it had come, and Jam hung against his bonds, gasping.

“You’re in pain.” Cyrus was beside him now. “That can easily be remedied. Just acknowledge me as your teacher.”

“No–” He didn’t have enough breath to scream this time.

The cattle prod - Jam was about 98% sure it was a cattle prod after having come into contact with it so many times now - dug into Jam’s chest, eliciting a strangled whine.

And so it went, on and on, over and over again - Cyrus would make his demands, just as calm and benign as ever, and Jam would receive a jolt of electricity as punishment for not giving the right answer. Jam could barely get a word out at this point, not without the damn prod digging into his back or his leg or his shoulder or his neck or his stomach, and couldn’t even see where it was coming from, couldn’t even see where his tormentor was…! He could only hear his own screams, the pop of electricity, and Cyrus’s stupidly calm voice demanding the same thing over and over and over and over–

The latest bout of pain left his body, and Jam screamed. “Stop! Stoppit! Just stop!”

“Hm? Are you ready to recognise your teacher, agent?”

“Just–“

The prod met the nape of his neck, and Jam…

…

…

…The next thing he knew, Jam felt a hand patting his cheek.

“Come on, agent. Fainting like that…” The owner of the hand tutted. “Even I have to say that’s a little pathetic.”

Fainting? Had he actually fainted? If so, then… Yeah, that was a little pathetic. It definitely wasn’t the prod that had knocked him out, so his composure must have suffered a crippling blow. What kind of Double Eye agent was he if he had actually fainted from stress?

“That’s it.” The owner of the hand sounded like he was smiling.

Jam shifted slightly, only to feel every abused muscle contract in protest. “Ah…” He groaned, falling limp. “It…”

“What, agent?”

“It hurts…” His words were barely more than a whisper, spoken out of confused delirium, but…

Had he just admitted defeat?

It certainly felt like it.

“I know it hurts, agent.” The owner of the hands - Cyrus, right? - tucked some of Jam’s hair behind the blindfold. “But you can stop anytime you want. You simply need to acknowledge me as teacher.”

Was that really it, though?”

“It is the first step of many,” Cyrus said, as though having read Jam’s mind. “But it is all I require to remove this pain from you, to help you see once again.”

Everything Jam knew about brainwashing tactics told him no. He was practically an expert on this sort of thing for crying out loud! He knew well enough that if Cyrus could make him do something so simple, Cyrus could go on to make him do something much more devastating. What was the saying? ‘Give a man an inch’ or something like that?

But… it was just a simple title, right? It wasn’t like Jam would actually listen to the guy or anything. It was just a title, and Jam did so desperately want this to stop…

“What do you even have, anymore, agent?” Cyrus continued, cutting through Jam’s thoughts. “You would have nothing to lose, everything to gain, from joining me.”

“My… my team…” Jam whispered.

Ah, yes! His team! He had worked so hard to become worthy of joining a proper Double Eye investigation team. He had only just started his career! That would be a lot to lose.

“Team?” Cyrus scoffed, sounding distinctly annoyed for the first time. “What team? I see no team here, saving you from this pain, agent.”

That… was true, but Double Eye had always emphasised never leaving a man behind! And from what Jam knew second-hand about his team leader, Agent SA37 was basically the aficionado of that principle. So, there had to be a good reason for why the team wasn’t busting down the door right now. After all, they had been hired to investigate and implicate Cyrus, not to break into his hotel rooms.

“Your team,” Cyrus sneered, “only cared about your skill in the art of deception. That is why you were sent to me, to use your skill in order to enter my flock dishonestly. But I saw through your lies, and now you’re here, accepting your due punishment. After failing to use that skill your team prized so much, do you really think they would consider you worth retrieving?”

Jam stiffened, as though the prod had hit him again. “No! I mean- I mean, yes! I… I think…”

His voice trailed off. It was clear that the team had not been fond of receiving a new member. Agent SA37 was short with him, Agent 707 always acted as though he was in the way, and even Agent Tigress, despite her attempts at welcoming him, treated him like he was some summer intern who would be out of their hair soon enough. But… but things had been getting better, right? They seemed to be warming up to him, at least treating him as an actual asset rather than an unwanted part. After all, this was only Jam’s third mission, and they had actually assigned him the ever important undercover work! Clearly they now trusted his skill set!

And he had betrayed that trust.

The realization almost had Jam breaking down. Instead, he clenched his fists tightly, his fingernails cutting into his palm. He still had some dignity left, and he wasn’t about to shed tears in front of a crazy cult leader who could somehow afford luxury level goods and services.

“Well, agent?” Said cult leader spoke, once again sounding calm and benign. “Again, you need only accept me as teacher.”

Yes. It was so simple. Just something to make this all stop, if only for a bit. He was so tired…

“Agent Jam?”

The one spoken to swallowed. Giving in was such a nice thought, but… he had entertained the idea long enough. Double Eye agents never gave in, right? At least not to something as mundane as repeated blows from a cattle prod. And even if his team didn’t really seem to like him, they had to find him sometime, right? Double Eye agents never left a man behind, regardless of their personal feelings.

Besides, Agent SA37 himself had said he owed Jam for saving his life. And if Agent SA37 was known to be anything, he was known to be a man of his word.

Jam lifted his head, turning in the general direction of Cyrus’s voice. “Agent Jam…” He paused and steadied his voice. “Agent Jam, Team SA37. My team will come for you–”

WHACK.

His cheek stung. He tasted copper. The blow had easily split open his dry lips. Had Cyrus actually backhanded him? That was new. Jam felt the hand on his face again, and he instinctively cringed. But it only cupped his chin in a caring gesture and tilted his face upward ever so gently.

“You insist on staying blind to the truth, agent.” Cyrus sounded pitying. “I consider it my duty to help you see it.”

Any reply Jam might have given was lost in a scream as the prod met his stomach. Outside, one of Cyrus’s followers stood guard, hearing absolutely nothing of what was going on inside the room. Luxury hotels came with premium insulation, after all.

[hardygalwrites]

Team SA37 Masterlist

Series originally started under the URL @shsl-whump from 2018 to 2020, continued under the URL @agentangst in 2021, and now being continued here

This fantastic art piece was commissioned from @piamio​ on July of 2021 and I still cannot get over how good it looks

Team SA37 is an investigation team under the employ of Double Eye, an independent organization that hires out teams of highly trained private investigators for a hefty fee. These investigators are called “Agents” and are each given a code designation to protect their private lives.

Team SA37 consists of Agents SA37, Tigress, 707, and Jam, making up an investigation team that has a pretty good track record as far as completed cases go. They also get hurt. A lot.

So here is a masterlist of all the sh*t they have gone through thus far. Note: most of the pieces focus on Agent Jam, cause he’s kinda my favourite.

—

Chronology

Third Time’s the Harm - On his third ever mission as a part of Team SA37, Jam is captured by the team’s target.

Third Time’s the Harm Pt. 1

Third Time’s the Harm Pt. 2

Third Time’s the Harm Pt. 3

Then Out of the Woods - Jam struggles to look after an injured 707 and Tigress following a helicopter crash that strands the three of them in a forest.

Hold On

Falling

Rebellion

Numb

“Make me”

Bleeding

Disconnected Oneshots -

“Do It”

Character Art

Original Team SA37 character sketches by myrmyr21

Agent Jam: Speak No Evil by theeternalcynic

Agent 707: Do No Evil by theeternalcynic

Agent Tigress: Hear No Evil by theeternalcynic

Agent SA37: See No Evil by theeternalcynic

[hardygalwrites]

“Oh, I can say a lot. I think there’s always something I... can say. I just... I’ll just say what they need me to say. Heh heh... It’s my specialty.”

AGENT JAM, TEAM SA37 [SOLO INTERVIEW]

Artwork commissioned from @theeternalcynic / @go-whump-in-the-night on August of 2020 and originally posted under the URL @shsl-whump

Still so happy with this piece - the expressiveness of the eyes is just *chef’s kiss*

[hardygalwrites]

Left to right: Agent SA37, Agent Tigress, Agent 707, and Agent Jam

Characters from the “Team SA37″ series

Art commissioned from @myrmyr21​ on May of 2019 and originally posted under the URL @shsl-whump

BEHOLD! The very first art pieces of the agents who make up Team SA37 of Double Eye. Even after all these years, I remain very fond of these :3

[hardygalwrites]

Third Time’s the Harm - Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Part of the “Team SA37″ series

Agent Jam finally manages to escape the hotel room he’s been held captive in for the past three days, but the guilt and insecurity over having failed his new team still sits heavy in his mind.

or

Jam escapes for a little bit, but Team SA37 f**king sucks at communication, so Jam offers himself up as bait almost immediately. (originally posted under the URL @agentangst​ on August 4th, 2021)

(image source)

WARNING: brief/non-graphic vomiting, slight interpersonal conflict, lack of communication, swearing, less than optimal sense of self-worth, brief mention of needles, kidnapping, manhandling, suffocation

—

“Come on… Come on…” Finally, with one last awkward rub of his head against his shoulder, Jam managed to dislodge the blindfold and shake it off.

“Oh, ow…”

His head hurt like hell, and it had nothing to do with the two hits he had received that day. He was just so damn thirsty. Not to mention hungry. And tired. But Jam could not afford to focus on that, not yet, not while he had only one more night to escape this damned hotel. It was either that or risk being taken to a second location.

Jam took a deep breath, waited for the throbbing in his head to die down at least a little, and took a look around the hotel room that had become his own little corner of hell. The lights were turned out, as usual, but the city lights shining through the balcony door still provided ample enough illumination for Jam’s eyes to adjust to the darkness.

“All right, all right, all right,” Jam murmured to himself, “let’s figure this out.”

An unpleasant and cynical thought wormed its way into Jam’s head as he looked about the dark shadows for some form of salvation. Asking him just what the hell he expected to be different about this night compared to the last two nights. Reminding him that he’d already gone through this song and dance twice and was still stuck in the exact same position.

Jam determinedly ignored that thought.

What the hell else was he supposed to do, anyway? Just sit and wait to be tortured some more? Screw that.

Jam craned his neck around, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever was behind him. All he could see was the table, still bearing the remains of Cyrus’s recent and wholly unnecessary dinner. The man had been getting ready for a damned gala. Why the hell did he feel the need to have a meal before then? Jam knew the answer to that of course, but it still pissed him off and made his empty stomach cry out in anguish. Cyrus hadn’t even finished the meal - half the lamb meat still sat drying out on the little glass plate, the silverware set carelessly on top of it.

Wait–

“Holy crap…” Jam felt his heartbeat pick up, and with it, his breathing. “Holy crap…!”

Cyrus’s followers had actually forgotten to remove the remnants of Cyrus’s meal! The silverware was still left on the table, including the knife!

Why? Had they just gotten lazy? Or were they caught off guard by Cyrus’s impromptu decision to continue torturing Jam this night?

Hell, Jam didn’t know, and he didn’t care either because that was salvation right there! Adrenaline fueled Jam’s muscles as he gripped the chair he was tied to and began the slow and precarious process of inching himself towards the table.

The chair was heavy. The soft carpet caught at the legs easily. Jam nearly tipped over backwards once or twice, sending his heart shooting up into his mouth.

“It’s okay,” Jam whispered breathlessly. “It’s okay. Almost there.”

Finally, after what had to have been at least a half hour of grunting and struggling and nearly falling over, the chair bumped against the side of the table, the dinnerware clattering lightly upon contact. With a little bit more maneuvering, Jam managed to turn the chair just enough for him to be able to bend forward and grab the knife in his teeth.

‘Yes!’

Within ten minutes, the ropes that had been keeping Jam in place for the past three days were in severed pieces on the carpet floor. Jam quickly joined them as he stood up and immediately collapsed, his legs failing him and his headache flaring in protest.

“Owwwwww…”

Eyes tearing, hands clutching his head, Jam slowly and carefully got to his feet and stumbled over to the minibar. Three and a half empty water bottles later, Jam stumbled back over to the table and inhaled what remained of Cyrus’s dinner. It was a bit chewy, a little over seasoned, and Jam felt like he wanted to throw up immediately afterward, but at least his hands weren’t shaking as much anymore.

“Okay,” Jam muttered, wiping his mouth. “First thing’s first…”

He had to get himself cleaned up a bit before finally leaving this room. Jam didn’t know exactly what he looked like, but he could safely assume he did not look like someone who should be walking through a luxury hotel. And the bathroom mirror confirmed that, yep, he looked as shitty as he felt. The soap and washbasin couldn’t fix his greasy hair, nor the welts around his wrists, nor the bags under his eyes, but Jam still did his best to wash away the sweat and make his hair at least look like it belonged to someone who wasn’t on drugs or something.

As Jam dried off his face, he gave himself another glance in the mirror. “Guess that’ll have to do…”

And finally, finally, he was stepping outside that damned hotel room.

Jam tried his best not to look dodgy as he walked briskly towards the elevators. He couldn’t see anyone else on the floor, but he was acutely aware of the cameras. Still, it was really hard to not just go sprinting down the hallway. Jam jabbed at the elevator button repeatedly as soon as he reached it.

The nightmarish thought of Cyrus or one of Cyrus’s followers cornering him in a glass box ended up having Jam turning towards the stairs before an elevator had even arrived. The trek downward was literally dizzying, and Jam had to pause a few times to take a breath and allow his still wobbly legs a moment to rest.

“Doing better than I expected…” Jam chuckled drily as he leant against the handrail. “All things considered…”

The hustle and bustle of the gala was far louder than Jam expected when he eventually reached the first floor of the hotel. But then again, he had been stuck in a largely quiet except for the sound of his own screams hotel room for the past few days. Wincing, Jam turned to walk away from the source of the sound, only to bump into someone heading in the opposite direction and get knocked back onto his ass.

“Oh geez, I’m so sorry…!” Jam exclaimed instinctively as he awkwardly attempted to get back to his feet.

“Jam?!”

Heart skipping a beat, Jam looked up and got a good look at the person he had bumped into. “Agent- Agent SA37…!”

Before Jam could even think to wonder what on earth his boss was doing here, SA37 grabbed Jam by the bicep and pulled him to his feet.

“Where the hell have you been, rookie?” SA37 hissed.

Jam shook his head dumbly. “Hotel room. Cyrus, he– My cover got blown.”

“Your cover got–?” SA37 suddenly cut off, putting a hand to his ear.

“Boss,” Jam spoke up, his mind finally catching up fully to the present, “what are you doing here…?”

It wasn’t like Jam wasn’t very, very, very grateful to see the team leader, but his mind was still reeling. What did their investigation have to gain from infiltrating Cyrus’s charity gala?

Wait… That was supposed to have been his job.

“We’ll talk in the van,” SA37 replied roughly. “Come on.”

Jam’s bicep was released, and SA37 turned and strode back the way he had been walking from. Jam shook himself and quickly trotted after him.

Five minutes later, Jam was climbing into the back of the team’s rental van parked just across the street from the side of the hotel. Inside the van, Agent 707 looked up sharply from the computer.

“Where the fuck have you been…!?” he snapped.

SA37 climbed in after Jam, slamming the door behind him. “That’s what I want to know,” the team leader said stonily.

Jam looked between the two senior agents before sinking down to the floor of the van with a sigh, head in his hands. “Cyrus found out. That I was Double Eye.”

“37.” Tigress’s voice spoke from the computer, sounding tight, but steady. “Do you need me to return to the van?”

SA37 placed a hand to his ear again, saying, “Just keep mingling for a bit, Tigress. Tell us if anything changes with Cyrus.” Then, he turned his sights back on Jam. “What do you mean he ‘found out’? How did he ‘find out,’ Jam?”

“I don’t know…!” Jam replied agitatedly. “There was no indication that he suspected a thing! It still seemed like he was totally buying my cover! And then he asked to meet at the hotel early, and I could tell something was off, but he’d been a bit stressed the past few days so I didn’t think about it until we were all in that freakin’ hotel room, and he told me that he knew, that- that he could… see through my lies or something…!”

Jam took a deep breath and scrubbed at one of his eyes with the heel of his hand.

“Looks like you got your ass handed to you,” 707 said bluntly, looking pointedly at Jam’s wrists.

Jam winced and nodded. “I mean… Yeah… Cyrus has been trying to indoctrinate me for the last few days, keepin’ me tied up in the hotel room, electrocuting me, trying to convince me to follow him–”

His voice cracked. Jam coughed, scrubbed at his eyes again, before looking up at his teammates tentatively.

“So what’re you guys doing here…?”

“We were looking for you, dumbass!” 707 snapped.

“Oh…”

SA37 hissed through his teeth, running a hand back through his hair. “Shit. I knew this wasn’t a good idea.

Jam felt his stomach churn, and he cringed. “I’m sorry, boss…”

“Dammit, Jam, that’s not–”

“I fucking told you,” 707 exclaimed.

“Seven, now is really not the time for that,” Tigress’s voice spoke lightly from the computer.

“The newbie got caught by a cult leader, Tigress…! Just let me be pissed off!”

“I know…!” SA37 shouted, causing Jam to sink further against the side of the van. “Jam got caught. Clearly, giving him that job was a lapse in judgement on my part.”

Jam clutched at the front of his t-shirt.

707 sat back slightly, some of the aggression leaving his body language. “Damn right…”

“What’s our next move, 37?” Tigress asked.

“So we’ve been compromised,” SA37 stated. “Pain in the ass, but fine. At the very least we’ve confirmed Cyrus is using aggressive indoctrination tactics, so we aren’t just investigating some harmless cultist.”

“Oh, so something good came out of Jam getting kidnapped by a damned cult,” 707 intoned.

Jam’s stomach jolted.

SA37 groaned. “Seven–”

Jam bolted for the back of the van, throwing open the door and throwing up the sad contents of his stomach onto the street.

“What the hell?!”

“Jam, what’s–?!”

It was over as quickly as it had started. Jam retreated back into the van, closing the door behind him.

“Cyrus wants me for something,” he mumbled hoarsely, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What?” SA37 stared at him, bewildered.

“What the hell is happening right now?” Tigress demanded.

“Kid just threw up out the back of the van,” 707 reported, looking just as bewildered as SA37.

“Oh god, is he all right?”

“Cyrus doesn’t have any grand plans,” Jam said loudly. His voice was a little shaky, but he was at least confident he sounded like he knew what he was talking about. “At least not that I can tell. He just surrounds himself with a bunch of young people who hang onto his every word because he’s convinced them that he values them. But apparently he’s… chosen me for something. I don’t know what, but he very much wants me alive.”

707 frowned. “Okay…”

“Do you know why?” SA37 asked.

“I don’t– He… He just said that he thought I was ‘worthy,’ even though I’d tried to deceive him.” Jam tugged at his hair awkwardly.

“Well,” Tigress murmured, “that’s something at least.”

SA37 narrowed his eyes at Jam, as though searching for something. “Jam?”

There was an order underlying that one word, and Jam complied. “I could be bait.”

“What?” Tigress hissed.

“No.” SA37 shook his head. “No. Not happening. Especially not after what just happened.”

“No, no, no, boss, please…!” Jam sat up straight, looking at the senior agent with desperation. “Look, you could just stick a tracker in me, see where Cyrus usually keeps the dissenting members, and that’ll be like– like– It would do a lot for the investigation…!”

“Yeah, and it would also do a lot for your eventual hospital bill,” 707 retorted snidely. “Didn’t you just say this guy’s been fucking electrocuting you?”

“It- It’ll be fine…!” Jam mentally cursed himself for stuttering. “Look, like I said, Cyrus doesn’t want to kill me! I’ve already confirmed that!”

“Maybe he’s planning to turn you into his fucking boy toy or something, ever think about that?” 707 all but snarled.

Jam recoiled. “What?”

“He means,” Tigress butt in tightly, “there are worse things than getting killed, Jam. What you’ve been going through for the past three days? It could be nothing compared to whatever else Cyrus has planned.”

“I know, I know, but…!” Jam groaned, fear and guilt and frustration making him want to curl in on himself, before once again turning desperately to the team leader. “Boss, please…! I know I messed up, and I just want to fix this!”

“It’s a pretty damn stupid way to fix it,” SA37 retorted sharply. “This is your third mission, Jam…! This shouldn’t have even happened to begin with!”

“I know!” Jam’s voice came out slightly thick, and he clutched at his shirt agitatedly. “I’m sorry!”

SA37 shook his head with a growl of frustration. “I don’t want you to apologise–!”

The team leader cut himself off and there was a subsequent moment of suffocating silence. 707 was frowning at the metal floor of the van, Jam was trying to swallow back the tightness in his throat, and SA37 was staring off in some arbitrary direction with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Okay.” SA37 finally spoke again, sounding calm, but stern. “Pitch me your plan, rookie.”

Jam coughed. “Um, huh…?”

“Convince me. Convince me that your bait plan won’t make the two of us regret the rest of our lives.”

A second chance. Agent SA37 was willing to hear him out. Jam could not mess this up.

Straightening up with another cough, Jam said, “Cyrus wants me alive. I don’t know what for exactly, but I’m pretty sure it’s not for…” He glanced at 707. “Um… That.”

“‘Pretty sure’?”

“Certain,” Jam amended with a nod. “The guy shows very little interest in that kind of thing. He just wants these kids to hang onto his every word and live the lives he says is best. But he’s not…”

Jam frowned, gesturing vaguely as he tried to figure out how to best continue his case. “…His indoctrination tactics are… not exactly aggressive?”

A skeptical hum emanated from the computer.

707 scoffed. “God, newbie, if you don’t consider getting electrocuted aggressive–”

“That’s not what I mean,” Jam cut in, sounding just a bit more frustrated than he would have liked. “I mean the… electrocution is the most aggressive tactic he used. Otherwise, Cyrus prefers not to use physical violence. He’s more focused on, like, the mind games and the psychological, on making you feel uncomfortable and miserable–”

Jam stopped, shook himself, and continued., “The point is… I can take it. Even if I pretend to fall under Cyrus’s influence, I won’t be there long enough for him to really start, y’know, getting to me… ‘Cause you guys will know where I am, and you can get me whenever you need to…!”

707 grumbled something under his breath, looking away. SA37 fixed Jam with a hard stare.

“…And you’re sure you want to do this,” he stated.

Jam swallowed and nodded. “Yes. I can do it.”

“37,” Tigress said dubiously.

SA37 leant forward, pointing at Jam with a grimness that matched his expression. “I’m trusting you on this, rookie.”

707 groaned, tilting his head back.

“Dammit,” Tigress muttered.

“But.” SA37 kept his eyes and finger fixed on Jam. “If this goes too far, then that’s it. We can’t keep you in the team.”

Jam felt his heart drop. “Ah, well…” He chuckled nervously for lack of a better reaction. “No pressure, I guess.”

“I’m serious, Jam. I don’t want you taking any more risks than necessary. Understand?”

“…I understand, boss.”

SA37 seemed to relax just a little. “Good. Seven, do we have any trackers?”

With a sigh, 707 sat up and grabbed for a case sitting towards the front of the van.

“I swear to god, you’d better be careful, Jam,” Tigress said.

“I’ll try my– I mean, I will.” Jam nodded for emphasis, briefly forgetting that Tigress couldn’t actually see him.

707 approached Jam with a small cylinder in his hand. Jam couldn’t stop the “oh, god” from tumbling out of his mouth upon seeing the needle protruding from one end of the cylinder.

707 raised an eyebrow. “Do I need to not tell you this is gonna hurt, newbie?”

“Sonuva…” Jam pulled up the sleeve of his t-shirt and grit his teeth. “Just get it over with.”

—

“Jam is heading back through the emergency exit now.”

“Roger that.”

Tigress snagged a hors d’oeuvre from a passing waiter and began to casually make her way through the crowd of lavishly dressed people. “…I do hope you know what you’re doing, 37.”

“He wants to prove himself,” the team leader muttered. “If we handle him with kid gloves, he’ll just think that we think he’s not good enough.”

“He does seem to care a lot about that,” Tigress conceded.

“Seems to care about a lot of things,” 707’s ostensibly irreverent voice mumbled in Tigress’s ear. “That’s part of his problem.”

No one responded to that. Tigress knew that they all thought the same thing. Perhaps it was just all of them being jaded by this job and the losses they had suffered through it.

“He may be annoying,” 707 finally added. “But I’d rather he not, y’know, die.”

“…Like I said, if this turns south, I’ll recommend him for another team,” 37 intoned.

That was if Jam survived should the plan turn south, but Tigress kept that thought to herself. It was very much unnecessary, and once again, she knew they all shared the thought anyway.

Tigress stopped at one of the side entrances to the ballroom and stood there, looking appropriately bored but polite. Soon, out of the corner of her eye, she could see a figure approaching from down the hall. When the figure was about one third away from the ballroom, Tigress turned to look at them. Briefly, very briefly, she and Jam made eye contact, but Jam otherwise looked for all the world like a young man too caught up in his own surroundings to see what was right in front of him.

Perfect.

After a second or two of staring, Tigress quickly approached the closest member of Cyrus’s entourage, a tall man in a plain black suit.

“Excuse me.” Tigress grabbed the man’s arm, and with it, his attention. “Are you security?” Without waiting for an answer, she continued, “I saw a strange man in that hallway, a shabby looking man, he looked very suspicious, like he didn’t want to be seen–”

“Wait…” Cyrus’s follower had looked close to telling her off at first, but now, he stiffened. “A dark haired man?”

Tigress nodded rapidly, pointing towards the appropriate hallway. “Yes, yes, I saw him in that hallway, and I got worried because he was acting very strangely–”

“I’ll take care of it, ma’am.” The man quickly moved past Tigress, hand already on his earpiece.

“Should I call the police?” Tigress asked worriedly.

“No…! No, don’t worry, me and the rest of security will take care of it.”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

The man was gone before Tigress had even finished sighing in relief. Out of the corner of her eye, Tigress could see a few other people moving agitatedly amongst the crowd. Tigress dropped her hands, which she’d had clutched to her chest, down to her sides.

“You play an annoying bitch pretty well, Tigress.”

“Almost as well as you play a vapid moron, Seven,” Tigress retorted.

707 chuckled.

“Go ahead and mingle for a bit more, Tigress,” their team leader said. “Then come back to the van.”

“Roger that, 37.” Tigress grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing tray and sighed. “I hope this works out…”

—

After Tigress left his field of view, Jam halted and turned to walk in the opposite direction. No sense in making himself look suspicious (or like a complete idiot) by deliberately entering a room full of people. His heart pounded in his chest and he stumbled over his feet slightly.

“Okay, okay, okay, I can do this…”

Jam rubbed at his arm. It was still sore from the tracker that had just been stuck into him, but the pain was oddly reassuring.

The bustle of the ballroom began to get fainter as Jam walked farther and farther away from it. His footsteps were almost nonexistent against the hallway carpet, so all he could really hear was the crowd behind him and his own pulse. Still, when the back of his neck prickled, Jam couldn’t help but take a glance behind.

“Oh, shit…!” Jam bolted. He didn’t even need to consider slowing down a bit before the Cyrus follower who had been stalking him from behind snagged the back of Jam’s shirt and yanked him backwards.

“Let g– Mmphm!” A hand slapped over Jam’s mouth cut off his frantic snarl while an arm around his waist lifted him off his feet.

“You caught him?” someone exclaimed in a sotto voice.

“Quick, we gotta get him out of the way…!”

Close quarters fighting and combat had never been Jam’s forte. At best, he was below average. With that in mind, Jam thrashed and squirmed and screamed with everything that he had as he was carried off into some side room. He kicked and clawed and felt his shoe connect with something.

“Ow! Goddammit!”

“Are you okay?”

The follower Jam had just kicked in the face waved off the third follower’s concern, feeling gingerly around their nose. The third follower gave Jam a very ugly glare, which Jam returned, accompanied by an attempt to get another kick in.

“How did he get out?” the third follower hissed.

“I don’t know,” the follower restraining Jam said through grit teeth. “But we can’t get him back upstairs like this.”

The second follower stood up straight, hand falling away from their face. “Just choke him out and we can claim he passed out.”

Oh, shit.

The hand clamped over Jam’s mouth moved to cover his nose as well. Panic, real and unacted, had Jam pulling and clawing at the hand as his ability to breathe was forcibly halted.

A part of Jam reminded him that it would be all right, that he wasn’t going to die and that the team knew exactly where he was. That part was not nearly as loud as the part screeching at him to fight! scream! breathe!

“Relax,” a voice rumbled through Jam’s heartbeat bruised chest. “Mr. Cyrus just wants to help you.”

Jam jerked his head frantically. He kicked and flailed and pulled, his chest spasming in desperation.

His lungs began to burn and his vision began to tunnel. Frantic, muffled cries turned into wretched, muffled whimpers.

Weak and twitching fingers slowly lost their grip and fell to his side. He felt his eyes close and his body go limp.

“Good…”

His last thought was that of hoping for no regret, mixed with aimless pleas.

[hardygalwrites]

Prompt: “Do it”

Originally posted under the URL @shsl-whump on July 12th, 2020 for this prompt by @whumpmasinjuly

Feat. Agent Tigress and Agent Jam from my Team SA37 series

WARNING: threats of torture, being stabbed through the f**king hand, slight gore, a bit of swearing

(image source)

A familiar scream resounded through the woods outside, and Tigress felt her blood run cold.

The man keeping her pinned to the floor grinned. “Sounds like I caught ‘im anyways.”

Tigress wrenched her right hand out from his bruising hold and swung at him, slamming a fist into his jaw. She swung back, intending to catch him in the neck, but the man just managed to catch her wrist, slamming it back down onto the ground. The familiar sting of the knife-blade bit into Tigress’s neck as the man glared down at her, a bit of blood trickling down his now split lip and all traces of that mocking arrogance finally gone from his face.

Beneath the frustration and fear, Tigress allowed herself a stab of satisfaction.

“No, no, no, no, no, I still got plans for you,” the man snarled. “Even if you won’t tell me where that boy is, you can still scream for me…!”

Before Tigress could even think to anticipate it, the man stabbed the knife into her upturned palm. A scream tore itself from Tigress’s throat.

“Just like that!” the man shouted gleefully.

Choking back her pain and harsh breathing, Tigress controlled herself long enough to be able to spit a gob of blood and saliva at the man’s face. “Go to hell,” she hissed.

The man gnashed his teeth and backhanded the agent across the face. “You bitch!”

Tigress felt the man get up as his weight left her stomach and his knee was finally removed from on top of her left hand.

“Just you wait…!” he ranted. “I’ll bring that boy back here and you can both watch each other scream! I’ll be especially sure to give hima real show…!”

His words faded as he left the room, and Tigress heard the front door to the house slam shut. Immediately, she turned on her side and attempted to pull the knife out of her hand.

“Augh…! Bloody– Shit…!”

Either she was weak and didn’t have enough strength, or the knife was too well embedded in the floorboards. Whatever the case, Tigress received nothing but pain at her attempt.

“Damn!” She smacked her free hand against the ground with a swear.

Leg in no shape to run, hand pinned to the ground like some kind of morbid butterfly, Agent Jam likely caught in one of those damned beartraps - the possibilities of escape were dwindling at an alarming rate. Tigress grit her teeth and tried to pull the knife out of her hand again.

“Agent Tigress…!”

The agent looked up at the sound of her designation. “Jam…?!”

The rookie agent slipped into the room, looking disheveled but otherwise unharmed, and immediately took note of the knife stabbed through her hand.

“Oh my god…!” Jam fell to his knees at Tigress’s side, eyes wide and hands hovering uncertainly.

“I heard you scream,” Tigress hissed.

“I just needed to draw him out,” Jam explained quickly. “Oh my god…”

“Well, that’s fine.” Tigress bit back a cry of pain as she shifted. “Quick…! Pull this damned knife out of me and help me get back to the car!”

“Just– Just pull it out?”

“Yes…!”

Jam looked from her to the knife. “But–”

Tigress laughed, a sharp and humourless sound fueled purely by adrenaline and an edge of hysteria. “Blood loss will be the absolute least of our worries when that man comes back…! Just pull it out, Jam, quick…!”

“I don’t know if I–”

“Do it!” Tigress snapped, slamming her free palm against the floorboards. She was sweating, struggling to hold back the urge to just cry out in pain.

“Okay, okay…!” Jam exclaimed, flinching at her outburst and making Tigress regret her pain-fueled harshness. “Just… I’m sorry.” He took the knife handle in both hands and took a deep breath. “Ready?”

Tigress nodded, clenching her teeth. “Do it,” she said again, with a forced calm.

She barely managed to fight the scream down into a grit-teethed groan as the knife was pulled out from her hand with a nasty squelch.

“Oh, god...” Jam cried shakily.

Through pain-blurred eyes, Tigress saw the younger agent shake himself, clearly trying to overcome his nausea.

“Come on.” Jam grabbed her wrist and slowly helped her to her feet.

Tigress groaned and grimaced, concentration of agony fluctuating between her hand and her leg, but she managed to work out a tight, “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry,” Jam said again, maneuvering her arm - the one with the fresh new hole stabbed through the hand - over his shoulders.

Tigress hissed and shook her head. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Let’s just–”

The front door to the house slammed open.

[hardygalwrites]

Third Time’s the Harm - Part 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Part of the “Team SA37″ series

Agent Jam’s captor takes increasingly drastic measures in an attempt to indoctrinate him. (originally posted under the URL @shsl-whump on June of 2018)

(image source)

WARNING: captivity, torture via fear/threats

–

The darkness fell away. Cyrus’s face filled his vision, looking down at him, blurry and frowning. As his eyes focused, however, he could see Cyrus replace the frown with a friendly smile.

“Ah, good, you’re still with me.“

Jam just stared at him uncomprehendingly.

It was nighttime. Cyrus was wearing that same expensive looking tuxedo he had worn the past… two nights? Jam had been looking forward to nighttime - it was the one extended period of time he was left alone. But, to Jam’s despair, Cyrus apparently had a bit of free time this night, despite the approaching gala.

By that point, Jam just couldn’t think. He was tired and hungry and thirsty and hurting. “No” was his only response when he could even respond at all.

Then, Cyrus had hit him. A hard box around the ear, leaving Jam disoriented but mostly stunned.

First that backhand earlier this morning, now this? Sure, Cyrus seemed to be getting frustrated… Actually, that was kind of odd too. What was going on?

“You are still with me, right, agent?“ Cyrus asked, pulling Jam from his thoughts.

Jam met his eyes with a small frown. "Something’s wrong…”

Cyrus chuckled and tapped his knuckle on the underside of Jam’s chin, as though encouraging a downcast child. “Well, I believe we call that the first step to fixing a problem.”

Jam was only half-listening. He turned away, mind stumbling over thoughts of food and rest and surrender as it tried to place what exactly was wrong with this situation…

“And I believe…” Cyrus firmly turned Jam’s face back towards him. “…you are well aware of the second step by now, Agent Jam.”

Oh, no.

Jam wilted with an unidentifiable sound of distress. “Sonuva… Don’t you have a gala to go to– hey! No, stop…!”

Cyrus replaced the blindfold, pulling it viciously tight. “Your insistent denial may well spell your doom, agent.”

Jam felt the cult leader pull back and heard him address his followers. “Lucas, Daniel, if you would be so kind as to bring Agent Jam to the balcony.”

“Wh- What!?” The word, high and breathless, barely left Jam’s mouth before he felt Cyrus’s followers seize his chair and drag it in some unidentifiable direction.

“Ah-! Wait!” Jam writhed in his bonds, a familiar panic building up in every muscle. “What are you–!?”

He heard the hiss of a sliding door. A cool wind struck his face, the kind of wind that could only be felt on the thirty-eighth floor of a luxury hotel, carrying with it the smell of the city. Jam’s chair was pulled towards the wind, and the quiet ambience of the hotel room was immediately replaced by the steady hum of a night-thriving city.

What the hell Cyrus could possibly want out here? A breath of fresh air? The idea was almost worth laughing at, but Jam had to settle for gasping as he took in many breaths of fresh air, trying to calm–

Oh, hell, they were picking up his chair. And now they were–

“No no no no no wait stop…!” Jam screamed as he felt the chair begin to tip backwards.

He imagined himself toppling over the edge of the balcony, down into the crowded streets below. “Oh, no…! No, no, no, no, please!”

“This isn’t up to me, Agent Jam!” Cyrus‘s voice cut in, shouting above the wind, the city ambiance, and Jam’s cries.

“The hell it isn’t!” Jam screamed, gripping the chair with all his terrified might.

“I can only help you if you accept my help!” Cyrus continued, ignoring Jam’s hysterical retort. “Acknowledge me as your teacher!”

“I can’t! Please!”

“You can only try my patience for so long, agent!”

The chair dropped, just slightly, but it was enough to get a shriek out of Jam. His heart thumped a bruise against the inside of his chest, his throat stung, and Jam was just about ready to snap, when something clicked in his mind.

“Why?!”

Everything stopped.

“…Why what, agent?” Cyrus asked blankly.

Jam swallowed. Don’t think about this terrible position, he told himself, just focus on the abnormality. He had noticed something, and that could mean the difference between life and meeting the asphalt at terminal velocity.

“Why… are you in such a hurry?” Jam‘s voice shook, but he decided not to focus on that either. “I’m… I’m pretty sure I’m only here because you didn’t want to leave me unsupervised while you were at the three-night gala, after finding out I was Double Eye, right?”

No reply.

“And- and your principles prevent you from killing me. So you’re trying to indoctrinate me, just like you did with the others who tried to leave. Clearly, you know what you’re doing. Even with the gala ending tonight, you can still bring me to wherever you brought the others and beat me up there. But for some reason, you’re impatient. You‘ve started to resort to physical violence and you’re…”

Jam gulped, fighting the urging to tip his head back. “You’re threatening to kill me even though that goes against your principles. You’re getting impatient. Why?”

The only sound Jam could hear now was the wind, the city, and his own heartbeat. Then, he heard a chuckle.

“You are a truly remarkable young man, Agent Jam.”

The chair was tilted forward and set on the ground.

“Oh lord…” Jam sagged in his bonds, the rush of adrenaline leaving him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…”

As Jam whispered thanks to someone even he wasn’t sure of, he felt Cyrus’s followers drag his chair back into the hotel room and heard the balcony door slide shut behind him. The dead silence of the hotel room was back, but after everything that had happened, Jam found some comfort in it.

Cyrus sighed somewhere behind Jam. “I’m sorry, agent. Of course, the life of any young person is too precious to do away with, regardless of their past. You should know I had, and have, no intention of doing away with your life.”

A hand snaked through Jam’s hair, combing it back gently, as though trying to comfort him. Jam shuddered, but was otherwise too exhausted to pull away.

“But you’re right… I have let my impatience get the better of me. Reform takes time. It cannot be rushed, no matter how badly I want you to join my family.”

Laughing softly, Cyrus moved to the front of the chair and grasped Jam’s shoulders. “Thank you for recognizing my impatience, agent. Even I was not aware of it. You really are the most worthy young man I have met in all my years. Despite your faults and deceptions, I do believe I have chosen well.”

Jam’s idling mind froze, and he looked up in Cyrus’s general direction. “Chosen? What are you…?”

“Ah, that‘s a surprise. I did want you to be ready sooner rather than later, but again, reform cannot be rushed.” Cyrus removed his hands from Jam’s shoulders. “Now, I do have a gala to attend. Try to get some rest, Agent Jam. We’ll leave tomorrow morning and your reform can continue in a more appropriate setting.”

The air shifted, and Jam heard Cyrus and his followers make their way towards the exit. The lights faded, and a door clicked shut, leaving Jam alone with his thoughts and suffering.