#it's all for nothing

[omgiamwish]

Whumptober 2023 Day 8 - "It's all for nothing."

[whumpsday]

K&J: Kane's Whumptober Bites #8

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: vampire whumpee, beating, burns, broken bones, multiple whumpers, begging, captivity

@whumptober Day 8: Outnumbered / “It’s all for nothing.”

another early-captivity one!

-

Kane cried out as another silver-toed boot rammed into him, searing a welt into his chest. He’d grown so weak from hunger over the past weeks, a kick from a mere human was enough to send a crack through his rib, now.

He gasped, curling in on himself. Pathetic. He could hardly even bring himself to care how low he’d fallen in the face of so much–

It had been nearly two months since Kane ended up here, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was starting to lose his will to fight.

There was no chance. The more time went by, the weaker he became, his body floundering without any source of food. God, he was so hungry. What was the point of resisting? It was hopeless, and only earned him more trouble.

As humiliating as it was, he was starting to think that avoiding pain might be more important than–

Another hunter pressed the silver of his shoe into Kane’s cheek, and he screamed. He tried to thrash away, but there were too many of them, he’d lost count. So many hunters and only one him, broken and starving and when would it be enough already–

–His dignity. Something he’d valued so highly before. He was a noble, a son of Aldrich de Sang, he was meant to command respect. But he couldn’t do that here even if he tried, so what was the point?

It’s all for nothing.

“Please!” Kane cried, stopping his thrashing. “Please, sirs, I’m sorry! Have mercy!”

Such groveling was unbecoming of a noble vampire. His face burned with shame and silver alike.

As the silver retreated, he knew the shame would too, given enough encouragement. It had been over the moment the hunters had spotted him. He was already a shell of his former self.

[dresden-syndrome]

8/VII-1965. EESU State Security department.

Today there was unusually cold outside - Radim could tell that by drops of rain banging on every window and the little breezes sending shivers down his skin. He was serving another punishment, sitting on the cold hallway floor, strapped to a pipe by a short chain. To him it was a lighter one, an easy one - Radim was almost thankful to get this instead of anything worse.

Two hours ago Erhardt grabbed his arm too forcefully near the office door, clenching his fingers right on the spot of a really painful bruise. Radim wasn't ready for it - the tugging pain on his wrist along with being pulled around like a rag doll was too much to handle. He twitched his arm, pushed himself to get away, struggled to free himself from the grip, making Erhardt pin him down to the floor with even more force.

It took a few minutes for comrade Gunther to hold Radim down until he stopped fighting. A few minutes of delight to watch his pet squirm under his hands. Angry, rebellious, disobedient, defiant, powerless. Hissing in a futile attempt to turn around, glaring at him from below while Erhardt didn't even make a move.

"I know, kitten. I know you don't like being held like that," - he started in a condescending tone, "Shh, calm down. You know it's all for nothing".

When Radim finally stopped struggling, his owner freed his hands, grabbed him by the collar and dragged across the hall. Then Radim was roughly pushed into the corner, a chain got attached to his collar and locked around the pipe.

"You remember what I've told you about fighting. Now sit there and think about your behavior. We'll have to talk about it once more when I come back."

As Radím sat on the cold dirty floor, hugging his knees to keep himself warm, he wondered, where would he better be? Where did he rather want to be? Shivering from the chill wind reaching the corner, he hugged himself tighter, wishing for a blanket, a cup of tea, a ray of sun for a brief moment of warmth. Dozens of officers have walked through the room, throwing condescending looks on him, "the Comrade Minister's pet" as they said about him, some stopped to stroke his face, touch his old leather collar or just stand there straight, enjoying the sight of a "people's enemy" left to freeze down in the corner. That's what Radím was - a people's enemy, even in the uniform, trained for simple department work. It's the law: once a traitor, forever a traitor. Traitors don't get blankets or hot tea. Nobody's here to risk getting scolded by the boss for messing up his pet's punishment.

The cold was getting worse, the discomfort turned into pain Radím restlessly tried to soothe by moving his aching legs side to side. He couldn't stand up or turn around - the chain attached to his collar was way too short for it. He pushed his neck one time. Another. The chain didn't move. Desperate to move away from the corner, even a bit, Radim leaned to the wall, his hands now reached the collar in an attrmpt to tear it down. No, no way. It hurts. His neck hurts, his hands hurt. The collar is too strong to break. He starts to fight, again. And stops, again. It's all for nothing.

Day 8 of Whumptober

Prompt: "It's all for nothing"

Art taglist: @painful-pooch @prismpanic @generic-whumperz @suspicious-whumping-egg @onlywhump

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Hand in Hand (part three)

@whumptober No. 8 "It's all for nothing."

cw: violence/beating

previous ///// au masterlist ///// next

~ ~ ~

Dan is awake long before the cell door swings open. The only way he could sleep with even a little comfort was sitting up, back pressed into the wall, and now he's stiff all over. He can't imagine how Wes feels. His arms must be dead from the partial suspension, shoulders aching, legs well-past being asleep. If he begs Swift, will she at least loosen the chains enough for him to lie down? He's willing to try.

But it isn't Swift who steps inside. It's a pair of Riot Kings. Both are wearing masks. Pointlessly; he knows who they are, but maybe it's in an effort to make themselves feel better about this. They must feel at least some kind of shame, right?

"Peres. Sawyer," he says. "What can I do for you gentlemen?" One of them, Sawyer, freezes in place as he's named, but Peres is undeterred.

"Swift wanted another demonstration with him," he says, jabbing a thumb in Wes's direction. "But I figured we'd offer you a deal."

A deal? Dan doubts it's anything good, but if they feel guilty enough to try and hide behind masks, maybe they still have the decency to not want to hurt Wes. "What sort of deal?" he says.

Peres lays a hand on his shoulder. "I'm gonna unchain you, and I'm gonna beat the shit outta you."

Dan makes an effort to hold still, not letting his apprehension cross his face. "Doesn't sound like the kind of deal I usually make."

He's expecting the backhanded blow Peres deals him, but it still stings. Behind him, there's the clank of metal-on-metal as Wes throws himself against his chains.

"Fucking traitor! Leave him alone!"

Peres rolls his eyes and gestures to Sawyer, who's quick to gag Wes. Dan regretfully agrees with the decision. It's probably for the best if Wes is unable to piss these guys off.

"You didn't let me finish," Peres says. "I'm gonna beat the shit out of you. If you can take it, if you don't try to run or fight back, we'll leave him alone this time. Got it?"

Dan closes his eyes with a grimace. This will be fun. "Got it," he says flatly.

He sits perfectly still as Peres unlocks the cuffs, hands in his lap, flattened to keep him from clutching at the fabric of his pants. Even now, he needs to look stronger than he is. That's how it's always been, and he refuses to let his own mask slip now.

Dan knows he'd stand a chance against the pair, even aching and exhausted, even outnumbered. He can wait until the chains are gone, strike when neither are expecting it, and win. He could free himself and Wes.

But why unchain him at all when they could get the same result without the risk? If they want to hurt him, why not tie his hands behind his back so there's nothing he can do? Maybe they want him to try and escape, maybe they're expecting it. Maybe that's how they plan on justifying hurting Wes more, and insisting he's to blame for it.

Dan isn't about to risk it. As long as he's in this cell, surrounded by his former allies, he's powerless to stop them from hurting him, from hurting Wes. All he can do is take what he's offered and---

A fist collides with his stomach and he doubles over with a grunt. He doesn't even have time to catch his breath before it's followed by two more. Cheek, chin. Powerful enough to daze him.

"Stand up."

Dan does, getting his hands under him then carefully pushing to his feet. He doesn't stay up for long before Peres hits him in the stomach again.

Can he even block it? Move his body in such a way that he takes the least amount of damage? Or will they count it as fighting back?

"Hold him up." This is directed at Sawyer, who quickly moves behind Dan, grabbing his arms and keeping him steady.

It's all he can do to keep breathing as Peres whales on his torso, punch after punch, sharp and rapid, until Peres is panting and Dan is retching.

The other man grabs him by the shoulders and jams his knee into Dan's sternum, then lets him go. Dan doesn't even try to break his fall, just tries to keep his chin tucked as the men above him kick at his back and ribs and legs.

Beyond the blood rushing in his ears, beyond the pain the crashes down on him like a wave, threatening to completely overwhelm him, he can hear Wes's frantic shouts, muffled by the gag.

Peres---or maybe Sawyer, he can't tell anymore---gives one final kick to his stomach, and Dan cries out.

"Stand up."

He tries, but it hurts to breathe, and he can't figure out how to get his legs beneath him.

"Stand. Up."

Wes screams through the gag again, and Dan knows he has no choice. It's tedious work. A palm first, an elbow over it. A knee on the ground, and then he's slowly pushing himself up, swaying on his feet.

Peres punches him square in the jaw, and he's on his back, staring at the ceiling in a daze. One of the men above him grabs him by the hair and drags him back to the wall, locking the manacles back in place. It takes a tremendous effort to sit up, to ease the strain on his shoulders, and once he does, he can't keep his head up.

"I'm surprised you actually held out," Peres mutters, then nods to Sawyer. "Grab the cattle prod."

Dan shudders. Aren't they done? But through half-closed eyes, he sees Sawyer closing in not on him, but on Wes.

He sits up, wincing. "Y-you said--"

"I didn't think you'd make it," Peres says. "And I'm not about to go against orders from Swift."

~ ~ ~

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast

[rd-eternity]

Whumptober Oneshot: Day 8 Prompts - “I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier.” | Overcrowded ER | Outnumbered | “It’s all for nothing.”

Words: 3.2k

Summary: Theo puts together enough signs to know his time in Beacon Hills is running short. Either he goes after the pack's newest enemy alone, or he'll be dragged back to hell with Tara. At least, that's what he thinks is going on.

Red flag #5: The sword Liam has a piece of Kira’s sword in his room.   The same sword that sent Theo to hell, the one that he made the pack break in order to get information out of him, as insurance to not be sent back with his sister. He’s not meant to see it, he knows.  He goes into Liam’s room while the beta’s napping, fallen asleep on top of his schoolwork and cuddled adorably in his messy blankets on the bed.  Theo only wants to know where he wants to get dinner from while his parents have date night, and turns to leave the second he sees Liam asleep.  Beacon Hills is throwing more and more supernatural nonsense at them in recent weeks, ramping up to where Scott called Peter for backup. Since he’s taking a gap year after this semester, and taking over protecting Beacon Hills from Scott, Liam’s had enough on his plate. Coaxing the beta to wake up from the couch to go to sleep in his own bed is hard enough work.  Theo takes what he can get. The chimera shuts the lamp in the corner off, but his eyes catch something in the dark, like light hitting metal just under Liam’s dresser.  He kneels and touches at it lightly, then jerks back, nearly falling on his ass. It’s cold, but just a touch burns Theo’s skin like nothing else. When he realizes what it is, he gets out of Liam’s room as fast as he can, nearly falling down the stairs and into Jenna, who’s packing her purse up to leave.  She gives him a reassuring smile, but what he gives back has to be anything but calm. Why does Liam still have a piece of the sword?

[iriel3000]

When Will You Let Her Go?

Whumptober Day 8: “It’s all for nothing.”

LAURA WHUMP, emotional whump, light whump

DISCLAIMER: I am legally allowed to torment the fictional character of Laura Barton (and Bruce Banner) this month.

AN: You are going to learn a lot about my writing process this month, sorry. Most of the whump fics will be 3rd or 4th round drafts. I normally spend weeks, if not months editing. Many of these pieces will be written days, if not hours, before the prompt is due. please forgive any spelling or grammar errors, or if these don't seem up to my usual standard.

thank you for indulging me tho😘

Summary: Laura calls the kids while they are in New York with Clint and Kate. part 1 of 3

“Hey, is everybody having fun?”

“Hi, mom!” Lila circled around Kate Bishop's penthouse with her phone, making Laura dizzy on the facetime call. “We’re having the best time! Look at Kate’s place!”

Clint was in New York helping Kate get ready for her first round of SWORD training and had taken Cooper, Lila, and Nate with him.

“Summer in New York is sooo much better than the winter.”

“What have you been doing? Where are your brothers?”

“They’re right here.” She turned the phone towards Cooper and Nate.

Laura blinked. She thought she was looking at an arcade. The room was huge with various ping pong, fooseball , and pool tables, along with old, upright video games. Cooper was playing online games on a theater size screen and Nate had VR goggles on, punching and kicking the air.

“Hi Mom!” Cooper shouted, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“Hi, sweetie. Hello, Nathan.”

Nate continued playing.

“He can’t hear you.” Lilia swung the phone back around. “Anyway, we swam at Kate’s friend’s house. She has a pool on the roof of her apartment building!”

“Wow, that sounds fun.”

“Way more fun swimming at the Waverly community pool. We also saw Rogers the Musical again and got to meet the entire cast afterwards.” Lila went into the largest bathroom Laura had ever seen and rummaged through some drawers.

“Thought you guys said that play was silly when you saw it at Christmas?”

“Yeah, but we met some of the actors in Central Park a few days ago, it was really cool. The guy that plays dad does not look like him at all.” She laughed and began putting on makeup. “Ms. Nadia gave us box seats.”

“Miss Nadia?”

“She plays Aunt Nat. She's super nice, Mom, and really pretty. She could be Aunt Nat’s twin; they look that much alike.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh, and she taught me some ballet moves to take back to my class. Ms. Nadia says I should take jazz classes if I want to be on Broadway like her.”

“But, I thought you were…”

“She’s an amazing dancer, Mom. Dad said she can do all the moves from Swan Lake, like Aunt Nat. She said she would teach me those too.”

“Is your dad there?”

“No, Kate is with us.”

“Why? Where did he go?”

“He had to help Ms. Nadia get some stuff for her Black Widow costume. Guess what?”

“What?” She asked, not thrilled with this new information.

Why would Clint need to help the Black Widow dancer with her costume? The play had been running for almost a year.

“Kate got us Taylor Swift concert tickets!! A suite by all of the celebrities. And we get to take a huge purple, Hummer limousine. I can’t wait!”

“You guys are supposed to come home tomorrow.”

“Dad said we could stay a few more days to go to the concert and to the Hamptons with Kate and her friends. It's summer vacation, Mom.”

“I know.” Laura tried not to sound too disappointed.

This weekend was her and Clint's wedding anniversary. The children were supposed to go to their cousin's house to spend the night so she and Clint could have a romantic evening.

They hadn't had much alone time. Since his retirement, Clint had been keeping busy fixing up the house and visiting New York every couple of months to help Kate.

“Come on, please.” Lila begged.

“Lila! Where are you?” Clint hollered in the background.

“Daddy’s home!”

“Home?” Laura balked, but Lila ignored her.

“Dad! Talk to Mom. Shes using that voice when she doesn’t like something.”

“Why?” Clint came in and gave Lila a hug.

“I told her about staying a few days and she has that tone, as usual.” Lila handed the phone to him.

He covered the screen with his hand.

"I'll take care of it." Laura heard Clint whisper.

“Hey, hon.” Clint removed his hand and she saw him check on the boys.

“You’re staying longer?”

“Is that a problem?”

“When were you going to tell me?”

“When I got back here. Didn’t know the kids were going to call you.” Clint walked down a long hallway to a massive kitchen.

“I called, she emphasized the 'I', “ because you were supposed to call me at noon.”

“Kate, where’d we put the putty?” Clint hollered to his protege somewhere in the penthouse.

“Clint!” Laura yelled.

“What?”

She blew out a breath loudly.

“It’s only our anniversary this weekend.”

“Oh, yeah. Happy anniversary, babe.”

“No, this weekend…”

“I’ll send you some flowers and New York candy. The kids and I went to Dylan’s and went crazy.”

Kate came into the room.

“Tell Cooper to finish his game, we gotta go.” Clint said.

"Is that Nadia? Tell her our matching shirts for the concert came in"

“No, it’s Laura.”

“Oh, hi, Laura!” Kate stuck her face into frame and waved.

“Hi, Kate.” Laura tried to muster some enthusiasm.

“Cooper, get Nate and let's go!” Kate bounded out.

“Clint.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He finally looked into the phone. “What were you saying?”

“So, when are you coming home?”

“I changed the flights to Monday.”

“That’s almost another week.’

“It’s not like the kids have school.”

“I thought we could spend our anniversary together.”

“Seventeen years, it’s not one of the milestones.”

“That’s rude.”

“I mean,” he rolled his eyes, “our daughter has a once in a lifetime opportunity to see her favorite singer at Madison Square Garden in premium seats. For free. We could not afford to do this for her. Do you really want to make her come home so we can go to Applebee’s?”

“I guess not.”

“She’ll think you’re the best mom for letting her stay.”

“Well, let me talk to her one more time.”

“She’s already out the door with Kate and the boys.”

Laura didn’t hide her annoyance.

“I promise she’ll call you tomorrow. We have to go meet Nat and the others. Have a good time with your girls.” He set the phone down.

“What did you say?”

“Have a good time." He picked it back up but all Laura could see was walls. "I’ll tell the kids you miss them. Bye, hon.”

“Wait…”

He hung up.

Laura stared at her phone for a long moment before flinging it on the bed. She gathered up the little, black nightie she’d bought for this weekend and shoved it back in the bag.

find the whole series here....laura whump

[foreverchangingfandomsao3]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi Characters: CC-2224 | Cody, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious Additional Tags: Whumptober 2023, Whump, Hurt CC-2224 | Cody, Emotional Hurt, Umbara Arc (Star Wars: Clone Wars), Waxer's death means so much to Cody, CC-2224 | Cody Needs a Hug Series: Part 8 of Whumptober 2023 Summary:

After the battles on Umbara, Cody gets the list of the dead and one name makes him question everything.

My fill for whumptober day 8: No. 8: “I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier.” Overcrowded ER | Outnumbered | “It’s all for nothing.”

[meetinginsamarra]

Whumptober Day 8 "It's all for nothing"

The adrenaline pumping in John’s veins made him fling his bad shoulder full force against the door and luckily it burst open at once.

Taking in the scene playing out in the hospital room, John was stopped short by having to witness a sight right out of his worst nightmare.

Culverton Smith was bent over the bed and Sherlock’s motionless form. His hands were still clutched firmly over Sherlock’s nose and mouth when he looked up at John, startled by the noise of the door slamming into the wall.

Smith’s face distorted into a vicious grimace. Furious of getting interrupted while doing what he enjoyed most. Killing anybody. Because it made him incredibly happy.

Pure unadulterated hatred swept over John. He was ready to fight, ready to kill the man who was attempting to kill Sherlock. But then he registered that the heart rate monitor was showing a flatline and all the pent-up energy suddenly evaporated while John’s heart forgot how to beat and froze into a rock of black icy fear.

The enormous shock of being made to watch Sherlock die again sent John swinging. Helplessly, blindly, he fumbled around to find something, anything to cling to and stop him from collapsing right on the spot.

Nonononoooooo!

It’s all been for nothing!

—

Please tell me if anybody wants to get tagged or untagged (just say it, I won’t get mad).

@helloliriels @calaisreno @7-percent��@lisbeth-kk @inevitably-johnlocked @peageetibbs @gaylilsherlock @totallysilvergirl @alexisnoir @blogstandbygo @jobooksncoffee @missdeliadili @kabubsmagga @mary-johnlocked

[ragecndybars]

“Megumi afureru sei Maria,” she mumbled into the beads. Hail Mary, brimming full with grace. At this point, her own voice sounded foreign and faraway, as if it came from somewhere outside of herself, echoing back to her from the chapel rafters above. “Shu wa anata wo erabi, shukufuku shi…” Listlessly, her eyes flicked up to the statue at the head of the chapel. Mary’s glassy, supposedly benevolent gaze stared pitilessly out over the empty pews, her stone hands spread to appease an invisible crowd of their invisible worries, even as her foot ground down upon the carved neck of a serpent. That would be just like her, Saori thought, the nostalgia unbidden and bitter to the taste. Though, more likely, she would pick the snake up and dispose of it safely somewhere out of sight, where it wouldn’t scare anyone and no one would take its life, either. That was what she did whenever some student or other was shrieking over some spider or beetle they’d found tucked into a distant corner of the library. What she had done.

Fandom: Persona 3 Characters: Hasegawa Saori, Shiomi Kotone Relationships: SaoriHam Summary:

Brown in some lights; red in others. Both her hair and eyes were like that; they weren’t really the same color, but they both seemed to catch the sun and transform from wood to precious stones. Like well-polished mahogany beneath warm light, or rosy rooibos tea swirling in a china cup. Everything about her was like that. Had been like that.

Word Count: ~3,000 Notes: Persona 3 spoilers. Also I made myself sad lmao enjoy. Whumptober prompts used: No. 7: "Can you hear me?" No. 8: "It's all for nothing." No. 9: "You're a liar."

[secretwhumplair]

Alleyway

183 words | Sequel to You'll never make me

Prompt | No. 7: Alleyway & No. 8: “It’s all for nothing.” - @whumptober

Content | Escape, referenced: possession, murder

Notes | Ittle thing for the weekend lol

They didn’t really have any idea where they were going. It was, it turned out, getting late in the evening, darkness engulfing the streets. It was protecting them from view now, but how long could that go on? Surely they would be hunted, like the wild animal its attack had made them look like.

Their legs felt weak, whether from the days without use or the blood loss or both, and their whole body was aching, and they eventually found a cozy back alley to collapse in.

They couldn’t go on - they couldn’t go anywhere. They’d soon need something to eat and shelter and they had no idea how to go about getting these things without being seen.

Maybe they should turn themself in. Who knew what else it would do while on the loose?

Maybe they would have done better to stay where they were. At least they weren’t endangering anyone there. Well, except their captor.

They pressed a hand against their mouth, stifling a sob. All they had gotten out of this was another murder that would be blamed on them.

[off-brand-likes]

All for Nothing

Okay, I'm actually pretty happy with this one! It's set fairly soon after Kallus defects.

The Imperial officers at this outpost didn't really have the authority to interrogate Class One prisoners in their poorly organized basement/storage space. Since this lieutenant was questioning Kallus about rebel activity, he should've summoned a prisoner transport to take Kallus to the kind of core world facility the ISB preferred to work in. Instead, the lieutenant had decided to beat on his Class One prisoner like the amateur he was, for two hours so far.

Aside from the broken nose, which Kallus hated getting fixed, and the cut entirely too near major blood vessels in Kallus's arm, which was exactly why outpost personnel were not supposed to be interrogating class one prisoners, damn it, the interrogation had been more tedious than alarming. If the Empire knew anything dangerous about his mission to Barkhesh, then Lieutenant Tellme hadn't read the most recent reports. Another reason why outpost lieutenants--

A blow to his cheek snapped his head to the side so hard that Kallus greyed out for a second. It rocked the chair he was bound to, though not hard enough to knock it over. The lieutenant bellowed "Tell me what you were doing in the spaceport or I will begin cutting off pieces of you!"

Kallus rolled his head slowly back to face Lieutenant Tellme. Nothing wrong with his neck, but his cheekbone was probably cracked now, and his broken nose hurt worse than ever. "If you bleed me to death, the ISB will have you digging ore on Kessel this time next week."

While Lieutenant Tellme's face turned an interesting shade of red, and Kallus resigned himself to losing a few fingers to the bastard, the elevator that got people in and out of this basement opened to admit excited-looking aide. "We've caught another one!"

Kallus frowned. That hadn't been part of the plan. He was supposed to be holding Lieutenant Tellme's attention.

"Not one of ours." Kallus made an effort to sound more disgusted with these people than he already was.

Lieutenant Tellme raised a hand in a weak attempt to convince the aide not to announce any more interesting intelligence in front of the prisoner. He had his vibroblade out again, set against Kallus's little finger.

A finger which would not be easily replaced in a backalley clinic or the supply-strapped medbay on base. Kallus didn't have Imperial medical support anymore. Perhaps he should exercise some self-preservation.

Speaking slowly and in a tone Lieutenant Tellme must've thought was menacing, the lieutenant said, "Tell me who 'your people' are."

A worrying possibility occurred to Kallus. "Alright. Alright, I'll tell you." He listed some random names and threw "Jabba" into the mix. Just as he feared, that one startled a smile out of the aide jittering beside the elevator.

The vibroblade's low buzzing lifted away from Kallus's hand. He affected a sigh of relief.

"We'll be checking each of those. I believe you'll soon find that all your resistance was for nothing." 

Kallus couldn't help but feel proud of the way the lieutenant backed toward the elevator, well after he was out of kicking range, before turning to join the aide in meeting their next supposed victim. Kallus the traitor had built himself a reputation for danger that his Imperial self would've envied.

If the rebels needed Kallus free ahead of schedule, something must've gone wrong. And Kallus needed to get out of this chair before Ezra got himself hurt. He rocked the chair onto its side and kicked it apart. This was why the ISB designed special equipment for holding prisoners.

Now, to get to Ezra. The elevator security code wasn't even enabled, so that gave Kallus no trouble. These people were so indifferent to procedure that they might've already sold off his blaster. He hadn't seen it on Lieutenant Tellme's belt, anyway.

The elevator door opened. The lieutenant stood directly in front of it, which put him in perfect range for a punch. The aide holding Ezra's arm hadn't even bothered to draw his own weapon. Ezra, hands bound in front of him, stepped to the side to give Kallus room to punch the aide out out too.

"Aw, I had this whole thing where I'd hit them with the binders. They would've never seen it coming." Ezra's binders clanked onto the floor and he waved his free hands like he'd done a magic trick. His eyes focused on Kallus's injuries, a list to which Kallus could now add split and bleeding knuckles. Ezra's smile faded. "Looks like I got here just in time."

Kallus really would've missed that finger the lieutenant was moments from cutting off. He shuddered as he checked through the drawers, shelves, and boxes near the elevator, looking for his blaster and watching for troopers. "What's the emergency?"

"What?" Ezra asked from the elevator, where he'd taken the useful initiative of hiding the unconscious officers.

"What's gone wrong?" Ah ha, the lieutenant put Kallus's blaster in his own desk drawer. "What do you need my help with?"

"Nothing!" Ezra got the binder keys out of Lieutenant Tellme's pockets to unlock the two pairs dangling from Kallus's wrists. "We're running early. Hera's going to put it on her calendar as a galactic holiday when she finds out. So, we thought you'd want to..." Ezra was trying not to stare at Kallus's swollen nose and cheek. Kallus probably still had blood on his chin. "You know, not get tortured any more?"

"Oh." If there was no rush, then they could afford to be more cautious leaving this outpost. "It was fine. There was never any danger of that brute getting me to say anything useful." Kallus took the lead clearing their path to the exit.

"No, I mean--" Ezra ducked as the troopers outside finally realized they were under attack and started shooting. "We didn't want them to hurt you more than had to happen for the mission," Ezra shouted over his and Kallus's blaster fire.

Kallus spared a glance at Ezra to see if he was joking. He looked... Disturbed? Worried? Unsettled, anyway.

"I said it was fine." There was a lot happening just at the moment. Ezra must not've heard Kallus the first time.

They were past the outpost walls and halfway to their pickup point before it occurred to Kallus that Ezra might mean that he and the others didn't want Kallus hurt. They weren't doubting his ability to resist torture. They would simply prefer Kallus not get more injured than necessary.

Practical. Recovering agents weren't of any use in the field, and seeing evidence of torture damaged morale. Or...

Perhaps they didn't want their ally to be hurt, because... They valued the lack of pain that highly? They wanted every sentient on their side to be comfortable? The whole galaxy, once they'd won?

Wasn't that a strange possibility.

On the Ghost, Zeb had to nudge Kallus's arm with the end of the bacta canister to remind him to spray it on his injuries. He must've said something, too, but Kallus was still too stunned by this revelation about the rebels' philosophy to pay attention. What a wonderful galaxy these rebels were fighting to create.

[aquietwritingcorner]

It's All for Nothing

Title: It’s All for  Nothing Day: Whumptober 2023, Day 8 Prompt: “I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier” Overcrowded ER/Outnumbered/”It’s all for nothing.” Fandom:  Fullmetal Alchemist Word Count: 846  Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating:  T Characters:  Dr. Knox Warning: Ishval Summary: Dr. Knox didn’t just do autopsies in Ishval. Sometimes, when the casualties were high, he was called in to help with the wounded—something that, surprisingly, felt worse to him than the autopsies he did.    Notes:  NA AO3 || ff.net

It's All for Nothing

Even though his primary function in Ishval was to do autopsies, Knox still ended up pulled into the general hospital tents from time to time. And every time that he was, he hated it, because it meant that there were too many wounded, too many dead or dying for the regular doctors to handle. This time was no different.

Soldiers were everywhere. They surrounded the tents, sitting, laying or just collapsed all around with no clear end or boundary. Nurses and a doctor were already moving among them, triaging the soldiers as quickly and as best they could. It was a grisly job at the best of times. At times like these? It felt dehumanizing, in the sense that one couldn’t think about the wounded as people with lives and families, but only as a collection of tissues that may or may not be able to be knit back together.

Knox shook his head, breaking free of those thoughts for the moment. There was no way that all of these soldiers would be able to be seen. There were too many of them, and too many of them were wounded. Which commander was in charge of this? Then again, it didn’t really matter did it? Whichever commander it was, it was obvious that he didn’t care for his men.

“Cannon fodder,” he muttered under his breath as he waded into the fray, ignoring the pleadings of the people he passed.

The wounded outnumbered the doctors and nurses at least eight to one, if not more. At least one of the doctors and a team of nurses were out there, doing triage on the wounded, laying tags on them. Knox knew the system well. Reds would be taken first, followed by yellows. Greens wouldn’t be seen unless all of the reds and yellows were taken care of. Blacks wouldn’t be seen at all. They were as good as dead, if they weren’t already, and it was no use wasting resources on them.

It was a harsh, callous way of thinking, but it was necessary. Save who you could, and don’t waste on those you couldn’t.

Knox recognized the doctor who was doing the tirage, Dr. Fredricks. He was a fine surgeon, although a little too soft-hearted for his own good. Knox could see him wavering over some of the decisions that had to be made, could see how they pulled at him. Knox knew that he would do more good on the inside, where he could be saving people, not out here where he was condemning them. And with the way that the medical tent already looked overcrowded, they could definitely use a surgeon that knew his way around an operating room.

“What unit are these people from?” Knox asked as he approached.

Fredricks whipped his head up. “Fessler’s,” he said with a hint of anger in his voice. “They’re all under Fessler’s command.”

Fessler. Knox had heard of him. He was in it for the glory of war, for the mighty commands, and cared little to none about his men. Knox had no respect for him.

“Figures,” Knox said. He made a motion for the tags that Fredricks had. “Gimmie those.”

Fredricks blinked at him. “What?”

“I said, give me those,” Knox repeated, a little harshly. “You know the staff and the way things work in there,” Knox said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder towards the overflowing medical tent. “And I’m used to dealing with bodies. I’ll know who’s not going to make it.”

Fredricks looked a little shocked and taken aback at Knox’s callousness, but he handed over the tags, nonetheless. They both knew the truth and logic in Knox’s words, even if they were harsh. Fredricks paused, gave Knox a nod and then ran off towards the medical tent. Knox snorted, and then started looking around at the soldiers and the nurses.

“Alright,” he said. “I’m in charge of triage now. Don’t take your time! Assess, label, and move on. We don’t have time to coddle anyone!”

The nurses and the soldiers looked at him a little wide-eyed, but Knox didn’t care. He didn’t even care when her heard some of the things muttered about him. No, instead he focused on doing his job. There seemed to be an unending number of wounded coming in, clearly outnumbering the medical staff—and the mortally wounded outnumbering those that would survive. There was no time for Knox to care about his reputation.

And as he worked, placing black after black label on soldiers that he knew would not survive, all he could think was that this was all for nothing. Chances were these men’s sacrifices would be for nothing at all. Fessler would have killed all of these men, and the territory would just be retaken. Then the state alchemists would move in and retake the territory, and Knox would have fresh corpses to autopsy again.

Just like there would have been, even if Fessler had waited.

Which made these soldiers’ sacrifices all for nothing.

He grit his teeth and kept working. What a waste.

[hithertoundreamtof23]

Whumptober day 8

Prompt- "It's all for nothing"

Rated- G

Stephen deals with Clea's untimely death

Whumptober2023 masterlist

[callaeidae3]

Whumptober2023 Day 8/9: "İt's all for nothing" | "You're a liar"

A combined prompt for the last two days!

This is both Kyle and Minharh grieving their lost father-son relationship, lost through Minharh's own faked death.

For Kyle, it's a betrayal of trust, and five years of enduring and adapting to a life without his dad (and only friend).

For Minharh, he knew he'd have to reveal his identity to Kyle at some point, if the ever reunited. But Kyle saw through his lies first.

This scene would fall right after the end of Chapter 1 in The Deliverance of Kyle Kindall (KK3)

[kayamark]

Whumptober: No. 8 - "It's all for nothing"

Vincenzo (2021)

Ep 19