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hyperfixiation-station · 10 months

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Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Information

A Study in Torture

TW: Blood, Gore, Torture, graphic depiction's of violence Summary: Reader was caught on a mission and has been in the clutches of the enemy for over a month...

Apprehension, Rescue, Rehabilitation

You wake up sputtering, freezing cold, and drenched in water.

“Good morning little bird. Thought you would like a bath.” Your captor stands above you, rolling you onto your back with his foot, “You are pretty filthy.” You squirm slightly, and he steps on your arm to pin you in place. He crouches over you, gripping your face with his hands.

“You know how I feel about you sleeping without permission, little bird. Why’d you have to go and break that rule? Now I have to punish you.” He says sadly. He gets off of you, only to yank you up by the collar wrapped around your throat and let go. You teeter, vision swimming as your broken body tries to compensate for the change in position.

The room you are led to is mostly bare, with just a tub of water in the center. Your heart sinks, fear pooling your belly. You’ve been here long enough to know that water is your least favorite method of punishment. When you first were brought here, the goal was to extract information from you, but now it seems more like your captor gets off on you being in pain.

“You know how much I love water Little Bird.” He laughs, dragging you forward.

“Kneel.” He murmurs, standing you in front of the tub.

You drop to your knees without hesitation.

“Aw you can learn something. I’m so proud.” The man says happily, petting your hair. Despite yourself, you preen under the praise.

“Unfortunately, you did break rules this morning, soooo.” He grabs your hair, twisting so it's balled up in his hand, “Deep breath little bird.” He shoves your head under, digging his knee into your back to hold you in place.

For the first minute you sit still, waiting, but as the seconds tick by with you not being allowed up, as your lungs begin to burn and scream for air, panic sets in and you try to fight your way up.

He lets go, allowing you up. You sucks in ragged breaths, coughing and vomiting up water as your body shakes. He gives you another second before grabbing your shoulders and forcing you back down. He does this again and again and again, until you are a shivering, pathetic mess.

He cups your cheek, running a hand through your hair. “It doesn't have to be like this little bird. All you have to do is listen to me. It’s really not that hard.”

You shiver violently, staring at the ground, still kneeling in front of the basin. The man frowns, yanking your head up.

“Look at me when I am talking to you.” He snarls, “God, why are you so stubborn? I don’t want to do this, but you just. Won’t. Listen.” He wraps the chain attached to the collar on your neck around his hand and pulls, yanking you up.

You let out a startled yelp, vision going black as your body screams for you to rest.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper. The man growls, yanking you toward him and slamming your face into the wall. “You will address me by Sir.” He screams at you, “Is that really so hard? It's three little letters you stupid, worthless slut.”

You sink to the floor, sobbing. Blood runs down your face, getting in your eyes, in your nose, in your mouth. Your head throbs, your lungs burn, and your ears ring, but you can still hear him screaming at you over the sound. “Say it.” He screams, each word sending spikes of pain through your skull, “Say you are a stupid, worthless slut.” You won’t. You may have lost every scrap of dignity, may kneel at his feet like a dog, but he had not broken you so completely that you would desecrate herself like that.

“You. Fucking. Worthless. Whore.” He snarls, foot connecting with your body with each word, “It's no wonder no one has come to save you. No one wants a disobedient bitch. You won’t tell me what I want to know, and now you won’t even listen to me. I saved you from death and this is how you repay me?” You shriek in pain as he brings his heel down on your wrist, shattering it. He kicks you again and again and again, bones crunching, skin breaking, the sheer agony of it dragging you into the blessed depths of unconsciousness.

The video ends there, your body so bloody and broken it's almost unrecognizable. The conference room is completely silent, save for the dry heaves coming from Gaz’s direction.

“We have their location Captain.”

LMK what you think and if you want a part 2

#cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #cod fanfic #angst #ghost fanfiction #call of duty x reader #dead dove do not eat #i love torturing my OCs #enjoy the writings of a deranged lunatic #cliffhanger #whump

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bryhoney · 4 months

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Recognisance pt. 4

Here she is! Not 100% pleased with it so may come back and change bits but otherwise!

Previous. Next

AO3

Please see the tags for TW - MDNI! (COD Typical TW)

The base was a series of sprawling, networking tunnels built into the mountain range. The lack of natural light and the pristine cleanliness of the facility gave it an uneasy, clinical feel.

You were free to wander around when Gabriel was away from the base, although the areas you were ‘authorised’ to enter were mainly communal spaces. Once the people occupying these spaces learned of your affiliation to Rorke, they became withdrawn and quiet - ignoring you when you walked through the door.

You don’t visit those rooms very often.

You were only barred from entering areas that contained their more recent advancements; notably their engineering and weaponry projects. No part of you wanted to be privy to that level of information. You’d been captured before, God knows what information you’d already gifted the Ghosts and their US superiors.

It had been that sinking realisation that stopped you from pouring over the blueprints someone had left out on their workspace. You had gotten lost on your way to yet another meeting Gabriel had invited you to on your third day. The office hadn’t looked like it belonged to one of the Generals. It had been unlocked and there, right in front of you, were the locations and plans for the Federation’s most important asset: weapon-based satellites.

LOKI

It was this kind of information that the Ghosts were after, possibly information you’d already fed to them - you wouldn’t give them any more. You had squeezed your eyes shut and stumbled away from the office, trying to wash away any memory of those files.

The meeting you had been making your way to was already underway by the time you’d found it. You recall how Rorke had glared at you, shaking his head once you entered. He had been sitting at the front, arms crossed and facing the rest of the personnel. The General who led the meeting had explained their concerns regarding the US Army’s recent movements.

It was a concern that echoed around the base in the days that followed.

The Americans were growing increasingly bold and the Federation’s forces still weren’t large enough to launch effective counterattacks. Let alone another attack like the one attempted two years ago.

The attack you’d been captured in.

The Federation had been forced underground to regroup and rebuild. Most of the manpower and the weaponry they’d been creating had also been lost that day.

The Federation was still effectively in ruins. You weren’t sure what Rorke’s plan was regarding the Ghosts, the most he had revealed was that he’d proposed the completion of the facility you were in. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there shouldn’t even be a base this close to the border, or at least, not one that Rorke inhabits.

You’d tried to make yourself useful around the base, the Federation higher-ups weren’t happy at Gabriel’s suggestion to put you on intelligence. Surveillance was more suited to you at the moment, something low stakes, watching the perimeter or keeping an eye on the entrances whilst boxed away in a stuffy, impenetrable room. You had no access to anything other than the screens in front of you. Occasionally you’d buzz in a squad team that had been sent out to patrol the area.

Sometimes, it was Rorke you buzzed in and out of the facility.

There were two others in the room, overlooking the base. It turned out that being infiltrated by the Ghosts multiple times had become a sore spot for the Federation.

Besides, it motivated you to stay on top of the video feed. Your safety depended on the work you were doing. Gabriel had made it clear that the Ghosts intended to re-capture you.

In the meantime, your routine largely stayed the same. You still found yourself locked away in a room facing your psychologist every morning. Regrettably, you still hadn’t warmed up to his emotionless approach, the same approach he was using today.

He asks the same questions each day and it takes a great deal of energy each day not to leap over the table and throttle him.

He’d just asked about your school life and realised you’d about reached your limit for the day.

“What’s it to you?” you couldn’t hide your intense dislike of this man. He was cold, reserved and unfeeling. He scrutinised you and never really told you why he was asking these questions, what you could be doing to aid your healing.

Just the same comment about your short-term memory improving.

“Can I ask why you’re being so combative today?” he asks, voice unchanging despite the deviation from his normal questioning.

“Am I not allowed to be?” your arms are crossed and you can’t bring yourself to sit upright in your chair.

He jots something down, and you roll your eyes. Pretentious.

“What’s your mother’s name?” he continues with familiar questions, thank God. You decide to just grin and bear the next few minutes with this man.

“I don’t know” You’re looking at him now, you hope he can tell that you don’t like him. You’d been so polite, so hopeful that he’d help you.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“I think so, I mean-? I told you, I don’t know” You knew with absolute certainty that you had brothers. You had brothers who loved you.

You felt the intense need to keep this to yourself, maybe you’d tell Gabriel about your recent revelations. He was colder at the moment, intently focused on achieving whatever it was he set out to do whilst he was here.

“How do you know Rorke?”

“He’s my commanding officer. He’s helping me to get better, he’s-” you trail off, what was he doing? It felt a lot like he was playing chess with you, although you weren’t his opponent, you were one of his pawns.

But he held you so carefully, comforted you-

“He’s?” the man prompts, as though you weren’t aware that you’d trailed off.

“He’s leading the Federation efforts against the Ghost faction of the US army, I trust him”. Each time you admitted that you trusted him, something roiled within you. You knew it was because you were unsettled that he seemed to know more about you than you did. He also seemed to be using this information against you, rather than simply telling you what he knew.

“Who is Elias Walker?” his voice monotone, clearly finding satisfaction with your previous answer.

“Elias! ELIAS!” It was the boy’s voice, your brother. Your brother knew Elias Walker.

Your chest caves in on itself, and you quickly find it within yourself to steel yourself and shrug it off as a cough.

Your brother had known Elias? Maybe he had been hunting him down? You’d need to ask Gabriel these questions if you wanted answers but everything in you told you to keep these fragments of your life quiet.

“He was the leader of the Ghosts, Rorke killed him two years ago”. That was a fact. Every board that had information on the Ghosts could tell you that. Rorke had told you upon the anniversary of the Scarecrow’s death. A celebration he said, damning the man to Hell over and over again for his betrayal. Elias Walker had deserved a death less merciful than the one Rorke had granted him, he told you. You didn’t push him to elaborate on what that meant.

“Who are Logan and Hesh Walker?” you knew this one too, the boards surrounding the offices were littered with pictures of them, sightings.

“They’re Elias’s sons, they’re Ghosts. Alive. Dangerous”. That’s all you do know, except that you heard someone yell his voice once, promising to kill someone. Likely promising to kill you. They’d be some of the people who’d destroyed your mind.

“Thomas Merrick?”

A shove, playful “You got it!” a new voice.

“Another Ghost, alive. He took over as commanding officer .” you roll your eyes, trying to remain calm at the flurry of new memories.

“Keegan Russ?”

“Don’t move, keep your head down” the deep gravelly voice, again. This one was beginning to annoy you.

Instead of closing the session down, he continues, “Do you remember being captured?”

You pause, “No. I know when I was captured but I don’t remember the actual incident”. You’ve often tried to remember the moment, to know where you had gone wrong. Why you’d been close enough for them to get to you.

“Do you remember what they did to you?” He asks,

“Yes. Bits and pieces. I- they-”. You breathe, taking a moment to compose yourself, “I remember some of what they did. I wasn’t trained to withstand it, I don’t-” You clear your throat, “They hurt me”. It’s all you manage, weirdly proud of your ability to compose yourself in front of this idiot who you’re barely restraining yourself from outright strangling.

You hated that despite giving him the same answers each day, they still made you emotional and scared.

“Can you tell me about it” he is furiously jotting down notes.

“Do I have to,” is all you can manage, your head pounding.

“If you could try for me- if you remember any details of where you were, who was there with you. I have given you enough time to process this”. He is calm, entirely unaware that your hands itch to hurt him. As though you could, the man is a soldier, and you’re not trained.

Prick.

“It was always the same room, there were no lights, except from above, when someone would enter. It was men in masks, the ghost masks - I never saw their faces but it was the masks from the photos it was-” You calm your breathing once again, cursing at yourself. “They would drug me, hurt me- they used knives or their fists or- I was interrogated, They knew how to hurt me but I don’t remember… It’s all so far away, it’s like it was a bad dream or”. You laugh at your rambling, which worries you further, you must be near hysterics.

“Good, good”. He writes, a part of you desperate to read his notes another wanting to rip them apart, “Do you remember signing up for the Federation?” he continues, you’re confused by the sudden change in topic.

“No”. These were the questions that upset you the most, the ones that truly unravelled the extent of the damage. You had no beginning, no solid memories of anything before being woken up by Rorke.

“What do you remember before you were captured” he continues, glossing over the brief response.

His body was pressed against yours, your back against a wall. His hands were holding your waist, “fuck” he moaned next to your ear. His hand move-

“How many times!? Nothing! All I have are pieces of memories that don’t fit! I have no idea who I was, what I liked or how I lived!” You are going to end this session before you burst into tears.

“Okay, that’ll do it for today, see you tomorrow morning, I expect-” his voice was cut off as you slammed the door shut behind you.

------

It had been almost two weeks since you’d arrived, and you knew nothing more about Gabriel’s mission than that first day on the landing pad. He frequently left the base while you were confined to the facility and its unwelcoming occupants.

Gabriel had tried to make time for you, but it was clear his priorities lay elsewhere. He was hunting the Ghosts and you were nothing more than a distraction during the day. He’d visit your room each night to check in with you before you politely kicked him out.

You were enrolled on weekly self-defence classes and weapons training at the request of Gabriel. He’d find a way to remind you in almost every conversation that the Ghosts had made themselves clear in their intention to recapture you.

The thought of being back there was almost unbearable but you were growing increasingly restless inside the base.

You were in the lower recesses of the compound, your daily walk during your surveillance shift break. Down here, you could peek your head out of an observation window and observe the guards walking around outside. It was the only real escape you could afford.

Reaching your arm out, you could feel the gentle breeze through your fingers. You sighed as you forced yourself away from the window, moving towards one of the stairwells.

It happened all at once.

The peaceful silence is shattered by the deafening blare of alarms. You all but scream at the abrupt chaos. Your head snaps back and forth, desperately searching for a threat. Your heart is in your throat, choking you.

As the corridor plunges into darkness you fill your lungs with a shaky breath, the onslaught of memories is unbearable. You were back with them.

A laugh, “Oh sweetheart, you’re awake. Good. We’ve still got some things to discuss”, the glint of a knife. Screaming. Laughing.

No. You can do this.

Move forward.

The base was under attack and you weren’t where you were supposed to be.

You did everything you could to regulate your breathing and remain calm despite the thunderous sound of your heart. Your hands were shaking as you reached for the handrail, to begin dragging yourself up the final flights of stairs.

The emergency lights activate and now the darkness is ruptured by a deep red glow that dips on and off intermittently and plays tricks on your vision. It feels as though the shadows move, as though each time the lights come back on you’ll see a Ghost striding towards you. As though-

Not real. Move. Keep moving.

You feel a tear run down your face.

After running up three flights of stairs, you slip quietly through the doors to your level, praying that whatever caused the alarm was nothing more than a fluke or an exercise. You tried to keep your heavy breathing quiet despite the alarm still going off.

You were halfway through the maze of servers that led to the surveillance room when your foot knocked against something heavy and soft.

A body. It’s a body.

You swallow a sob at the realisation that the body was a soldier. Someone you’d passed in the corridors - now they were gone. Gone. Gone.

You're next if you don’t move. Move. Move.

You whisper an apology to the individual as you raid them for their weapons, closing their eyes as you turn to listen to the room. You try and drown out the loud thrum of the servers and the continuous drone of the alarm while you listen for movement. You inhale slowly, it’s now or never. You seize the opportunity of darkness and sprint across the open control space towards the bright glow of screens that lie just meters from the surveillance room.

You scan the screens, looking for any communication broadcasts that might indicate what has led to this situation.

Your head whips around as you hear a quiet thud behind you, your gun aimed out in front of you.

You’re staring down a barrel, but that’s not what makes you freeze.

The man holding the gun is a Ghost.

#keegan russ x reader #call of duty ghosts #cod keegan #keegan p russ #logan walker #hesh walker #tw violence #tw torture #tw memory loss #tw: panic attack #sorry for the delay!#cliffhanger? I don't know her

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