#ailesswhumptober2024day26

[auroragehenna]

AI-less Whumptober

Day 26 - Sensory Saturday (Electrocution, burning, “This is going to sting.”)

OC Electra

TW/CW: Kidnapping, goverment-induced whump, magical whump, demon whumper, spirit/fae whumpee, fire, electrocution, hunting themed, sadistic whumper, Word count: 496

„When startled the prey might realize the predator is near too early and the hunt is unsuccessful."

"Its a standart mission, they commited a crime and are a threat against the empire. Remove them." "And?" "I don't care what you do with them as long as they stay gone."

Electra quietly entered the hall their target was in, with a snap of their fingers the magical warding and sigils they had drawn sprang to live and started doing their job, effectively restricting just about any usage of music but her own. Now the demoness stepped outside of her hiding space. Dressed in a perfectly fitted blue suit with the white hair pushed out of her face and a katana hanging on her hip.

"Now Whumpee, why don't we do this the easy way and you follow me?", she asked casually approaching the other.

The spirit whipped around, magic flaming up around their body, only to flicker and then go out completely.

Oh, the horror on their face was delicious. "Guess not then. The hard way then.", Electra grinned. "So be it." The demoness snapped her fingers again and threads of electricity flowed out of her fingerips, quickly skippping across the wooden floor and setting it on fire wherever it went.

The spirit looked around panicked, the lightning caused fire had quicly surrounded both of them in a narrow, enclipse shaped space. And despite not being a fire spirit they could tell that wasn't normal fire...Subconsciously they folded their beautiful butterly-eque wings and took one step forward, away from the flames. Unfortunately towards the demon-lady threatening them. "What do you want?!"

"Oh I just need you to come with me, simple."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!"

"Or you can stay here and have first your wings and then the rest of you get electrocuted and burned to a crisp without ever being allowed to die. Absorbed by my magic. Your choice.

"I'm not making a deal with you!", the spirit protested, and they knew they were giving ground with this.

And Electra knew it too. "I'm not asking you to." Next to her she drew the rough outshape of a door into the air, creating a king's blue shimmering portal.

The spirit tried once again to activate their magic but it was pointless. Surely there still had to be some people around, right? "HELP! HELP ME!"

Electra smiled, making another step forward. "Oh silly, nobody can hear you. Its just you and me." She drew the electrocuting fire closer around them both. "And I'm really your best choice here, so just follow me."

The spirit looked around panicked but they couldn't find a way out. Then I just have to way out from wherever she's taking me... And against the screaming in their head they followed the demoness' outstretched and gesturing hand through the portal. Only to end up in a singular room of a mansion that was even more of fortress than the fire enclosure.

I wanted to use this to write an example of how Electra also captures targets when on shadow missions.

Taglist: @ailesswhumptober, @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11, @greatkittencloud, @bisexuawolfsalt

@shattermind-8

[teine-mallaichte]

Day 26 @ailesswhumptober - prompt: Electrocution, burning, “This is going to sting.”

Charlie is 17, she has been in on the medic training path for two years but even after 7 years at the facility sometimes it's hard not to care.

CW: burns, injurines, medical neglect, medical treatment, implied violence, implied torture, dissociation, psychological distress, dehuminisation.

AiLessWhumptober List Complex 27

Charlie knew her duty all too well: to keep assets functional, to ensure they could fulfill their missions, even if it meant employing methods that felt more like torture than care. Compassion was a luxury she had never been taught to indulge in; it was a weakness, a flaw that could lead to severe consequences in a world that thrived on obedience and efficiency.

As she stepped into the room, the acrid scent of burnt flesh mixed with the sharp tang of antiseptics filled her nostrils, clawing at her throat. The remnants of electrical burns permeated the air, a harsh reminder of the violence that had been inflicted upon the three assets before her. She had been instructed only to treat burns, a task shrouded in vague urgency, leaving her with little understanding of what had transpired.

Charlie’s gaze swept over the first asset, a teenager roughly her age, leaning against the wall, his posture suggesting weary resignation. His skin was mottled with angry red blisters that snaked up his neck, the aftermath of the shocking pain he had endured. A knot twisted in her stomach as she noticed his attempt at stoicism—the way his jaw clenched, the slight tremor in his hands, betraying the anguish coursing through him. For a fleeting moment, she wondered how long it would take before he could bear the weight of that pain, before he would be sent back into the unforgiving grind of training.

Next to him sat another asset, slumped in the corner, his body rigid yet lifeless, as if he were trying to retreat from the harshness of his surroundings. Charlie’s heart sank as she met his unfocused gaze, drifting somewhere far away from the stark reality of the room. A pang of concern lanced through her; there was something haunting about his demeanour, as if he were attempting to escape the torment that had become his everyday existence. She shook her head slightly, pushing aside the thought. Feelings were not for someone like her.

Lastly, there was a third asset lying flat on the ground, his eyes barely open, teetering on the precipice of consciousness. His condition was the most critical, his breaths shallow and ragged, and Charlie instinctively felt the urge to rush to his side. But she hesitated, a wave of uncertainty crashing over her.

Her stomach twisted in knots as she surveyed the scene before her. They looked abandoned, left to rot in a stark, impersonal room that offered no solace. The command echoed in her mind—"Get them functional.”

Functional.

Not healed, not cared for, just enough to make sure they could be sent back into the ruthless grind of training, a machine that chewed them up and spat them out, treating them like mere numbers rather than human beings. She was a cog in that relentless system, one that stripped away their identities, their autonomy, and ultimately, their humanity.

She had been trained to prioritize the least damaged asset, the one most capable of returning to duty. The first asset, who seemed to maintain a semblance of resilience, was the logical choice for immediate attention. But as her gaze flicked back to the third asset, it felt wrong to leave him there.

Charlie pushed down the wave of nausea rising within her. This was her duty, a necessary evil. She gathered her supplies, approaching the first asset.

“This is going to sting,” she said, her voice steady, though it felt foreign in her throat. She grabbed a sterile gauze pad and soaked it in antiseptic, the sharp smell mixing with the acrid odour of charred flesh.

As she applied the gauze to the burned skin, the first asset flinched, a low hiss escaping his lips. His body jerked involuntarily, and for a moment, she saw the flicker of a vulnerable boy beneath the hardened exterior. Charlie’s fingers trembled slightly as she worked, the urgency of the situation clawing at her insides. Each application felt like a betrayal of his pain, and she struggled to suppress her own.

“Just breathe,” she murmured, the reassurance felt futile.

“Just… get it over with,” he replied, his voice strained. There was an edge of defeat in his tone, a resignation to the torment that suffocated the room. Charlie met his eyes, and for a brief moment, she saw the flicker of something raw—fear? Hope? She quickly averted her gaze, unwilling to dwell on it. She had no time for such distractions.

As she reached for the antiseptic spray, she paused, the familiar bottle feeling cold and clinical in her hands. “This might hurt,” she warned, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. She aimed the nozzle at the burn and pressed down, releasing a fine mist. The asset gasped, and she felt a pang in her chest, the sound echoing in the silence.

His body jerked slightly, and she saw him bite down harder on his lip, the skin turning white against his teeth. The tension in the room was suffocating.

“Almost done,” she whispered as she turned to the sterile dressing, carefully applying it over the cleansed burn. Each movement felt like a small betrayal; her fingers trembled slightly as she secured the edges, conscious of every detail.

Once the first was bandaged, Charlie took a breath, steeling herself before shifting her attention to the second asset. He remained hunched in the corner, his body tense yet completely unresponsive, his eyes glassy and unfocused. The sight was unnerving. Was he even aware of what was happening around him?

She approached him slowly, almost fearing disturbing a fragile illusion of safety he had created in his mind. His eyes stared through her, unfocused and lost, drifting between the present and some far-off place.

Tentatively, Charlie placed her hand on his shoulder, hoping to coax him back to reality. “Hey,” she murmured, her voice softer now. “I’m here to help.” But he remained unresponsive. His eyes were dull, lost somewhere deep within the tangled corridors of his own mind.

“He won’t respond,” the first asset interjected, his voice hoarse and strained. “He disappears in his head.” His eyes met hers, hard and challenging, as if accusing her of complicity in their suffering.

Charlie's heart sank at the weight of his words. “Disappears,” she echoed softly, the term settling heavily on her tongue like a bitter pill. What must it be like to retreat so deeply within oneself, shielding against the pain of the physical and emotional torment? She wondered if she had ever gone there herself.

She set to work, examining the burns and cleaning them. The asset stayed still, offering no resistance, as if he were merely a lifeless doll. It wasn't until the antiseptic spray that she saw even the slightest flicker of reaction from him—the asset's body jerked slightly, a breath escaping his lips that sounded more like a whimper than a gasp. Her heart clenched at the sound, her stomach twisting in knots. The urge to stop and comfort him clawed at her, but she forced herself to focus, her movements mechanical as she dressed his burns.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words spilling out before she could stop them. Did he even know she was there? Did he know that she was trying to help, or was she just another cog in this cruel machine?

Glancing at the first asset, she found him watching her, assessing her. There was something in his gaze—distrust, perhaps. As if she were part of the system that had failed them. Just another medic, here to patch them up and throw them back to be broken again.

He looked at her as if she was a threat.

Perhaps she was.