#mortiawrites

[whumpy-daydreams]

Since you mentioned living weapon prompts…

Defiant whumpee with some sort of superpower finally breaking and becoming a weapon?

ooh i love this and now its really long and i want to write more because i have the plot bunnies

CW: electric shocks, brainwashing, needle mention, military indoctrination

Whumpee had been sloppy. They'd trusted the wrong people and been screwed over as a result. And now they had been arrested? Drafted? They supposed the specifics didn't matter.

Whumpee was wondering how long they'd been stuck in this stupid chair when a door opened, pneumatics hissing as a portion of the wall slid aside.

The man in uniform didn't smile. He sat opposite, barely registering them as he opened a file, scanning through the two pages inside. That was good. They clearly didn't have much information about what Whumpee could do.

"Please state your name for the record."

If Whumpee could cross their arms they would have. But instead they just cocked their head, lips pursed. A slight twitch was all that gave away the man's annoyance.

"It would be in your best interest to comply."

"Why?"

"Because it will save me time and you pain." He clasped his hands on the table and leaned forward slightly. "Your name."

"You forgot the magic word," Whumpee smirked. A jolt of electricity burst across their wrists and ankles. Clearly the restraints were for more than keeping them in place. "Shit!"

"As I said, it is in your best interest to comply. What is your name?"

"Fuck. You." Another flash of pain, stronger than the last, and Whumpee cried out through gritted teeth. Their heart was pounding now, sweat beginning to bead on their back.

The man waited patiently. Whumpee just glared.

When the electricity hit again they screamed, back arching. White flashed across their vision. Whumpee wished they could move. Wished they could shake out the growing cramps in their arms and legs. Still the man just watched, waiting.

Whumpee lost track of time as shock after shock hit them, the only breaks in the silence being the sounds of screaming and the same question from the man, over and over and over. Your name.

"Whum-" their voice caught between sobs, "-Whumpee. My name's Whumpee."

They were drenched in sweat now, limbs shaking from the electricity that had coursed through them just moments before. They were so tired.

The man just nodded, not bothering to write anything down. Bastard. He already knew their name. All Whumpee had done was shown how much pain they could take.

"Would you like some water?" The question caught them off guard. After a moment Whumpee nodded. The man reached down, putting a glass of water on the table, a straw already in it, but didn't move it closer.

"You are being recruited into a special division here. There are others like you already in service, and you will receive comprehensive training to complete your missions."

"Why would I do that?" Whumpee rasped.

"To serve your country. You would receive compensation: food and lodging, thorough medical care, as well as a generous package when you retire."

"Can I think about it first?"

"While cooperation is preferable, we do not need any consent from you to enrol you into the program. I will repeat that it is-"

"In my best interest to comply." Whumpee finished for him. They looked at the glass of water and thankfully the man got the hint. He brought it forward, holding it so Whumpee could drink from the straw.

They took a long sip, looked at the man, and spat it in his face. "You can go to hell." He reeled back, wiping the water from himself with a sleeve. To Whumpee's dismay he didn't look angry, or even particular annoyed.

"Perhaps you need some time to think about it." Was all he said before leaving, the door hissing shut behind him.

___

Whumpee sagged forward in the chair, cheeks stained with tears and sweat as their muscles spasmed.

It had been hours. The shocks were random, or random enough that they hadn't been able to find a pattern - though it was hard to keep track when you kept getting electrocuted.

They didn't have the energy to scream any more. Strained whimpers and a rigid body the only sign of the electricity coursing through them. I won't let them do this to me. I won't let them turn me into a monster.

A firm hand on their arm startled Whumpee, who flinched away, silently sobbing. Then a scratch on the back of their hand, the strange feeling of tape keeping something secure. Whumpee didn't have the energy to look.

"Please..."

"Let it run through before shocking again, don't want them dislodging it." A different voice, and a murmur of acknowledgement. A few minutes silence.

"Have you thought about your situation, Whumpee?" The man's voice again, calm and professional. Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou- "This can all stop if you want it to. All you have to do is cooperate."

It was so tempting. It would be so easy to give in. The exhaustion in Whumpee's body screamed at them to say yes, to accept whatever future they were offering.

With a sob, Whumpee shook their head.

"Why?" The man's voice was different now: softer, gentler. "You have no family, no true friends. Here you will have purpose. People to depend on, a stable place to live, the chance to make a difference in the world."

It was true. Whumpee didn't have anyone they trusted. There was no hope, no purpose, no stability in their future. Because of you. It was their fault Whumpee didn't have those things.

"Just let me leave," they said weakly.

"I can't do that. You belong here, even if you don't realise it yet." Whumpee heard rather than saw the man walk over. He pushed them upright, their head lolling backwards. "What's your name?"

"Whumpee." They didn't know why they said it. Whumpee told themselves it was because he already knew, but deep down that was a lie. It just... happened. They felt pliable, like their brain had been massaged into acceptance.

A video hologram appeared in front of them. It showed people in uniform eating together, playing games, doing training exercises and helping each other. Images of clean facilities, sports and books and tidy bedrooms flashed past one another.

It looked... nice? Not cosy but safe and welcoming. The calm speech of the voiceover repeated itself in Whumpee's brain.

'You'll be part of a family trained to be the best'

Whumpee wanted a family. They wanted to feel safe. Loved. To not have to worry about food and shelter, or who to trust. They're lying to you. The voice in their head took on an uncertain tone.

"Well, Whumpee? Are you ready to cooperate?" Yes. No. Whumpee didn't say anything, their thoughts merging together in a swirling pool of conflicting needs.

The man didn't say anything as he left again. Panic gripped Whumpee and they nearly called after him but it was too late. The door disappeared into the wall.

But no shocks came. Instead another video started, this time an interview of a young woman in uniform. She had powers too. And despite Whumpee's exhaustion they couldn't help but listen.

Another video played afterwards, and another, and another. Each one echoed in Whumpee's head, the voice telling them it was a lie getting quieter until it all but disappeared. Calmness spread over them, making them forget about the shocks, about the fact Whumpee had been kidnapped.

When the man finally reappeared, Whumpee looked at him silently.

"Are you ready to comply?"

"Yes."

[whumpy-daydreams]

I use mortiawrites as a tag for my oc whump!

I wanna see more oc whump

If u make whump for original characters pls reblog or like this i want to go through ur whole oc tag

[whumpy-daydreams]

For your own good

Masterlist

CW: needles, noncon injections, dehumanisation, living weapon whump

"Any symptoms to report?"

"No, sir."

327 didn't flinch as the needle went into their arm. It was just routine - emotional regulators that kept them ready for combat. The numb calm was good for them.

"Your training report states you're struggling to follow orders, is that right?"

"I am unaware of what Whumper writes in their reports, sir."

"Do you agree with that observation?"

327 frowned. If it was in the report it didn't matter if they agreed. "I need to improve my response time to be effective in the field."

"Don't you trust your superiors' orders?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. I'm going to give you another injection now."

327 looked at the doctor, already loading a new vial into the syringe. "What for, sir?" The doctor looked up, one eyebrow raised, and sighed.

"You should remember-" another sharp scratch at their arm, "-that everything we do here is for your own good. You are given all the information you need to do your job. But... I'm feeling generous. It's designed to enhance your cognitive abilities, improve your reaction times."

327 nodded. They wanted to know if this new injection would become part of their weekly routine, if there were any signs they should look for to see if it was working. That was a problem - always wanting to know things.

"Do you have a question, 327?"

"No, sir." Lying was also forbidden, but they knew it was the right answer.

"Then you're free to go."

[whumpy-daydreams]

An enemy prison

Writing Masterlist

Next

327 sat cross-legged on the concrete cot that served as their bed, staring ahead at the door. It was their own fault. They had been told to retreat, but there were still people - civilians - getting fired on. They were just completing the mission, 327 told themselves. They'd managed to save twenty more people, and killed a dozen insurgents.

And this was the cost. Captured and imprisoned by the enemy. They'd probably get interrogated until their captors gave up and killed them. The door opened.

327 didn't look at the man as he came closer, kept their eyes straight ahead even when he was just a step away. A hand gripped their jaw, forcing their head upwards.

"Well, well... one of the famous black hawks. A pleasure to finally meet one of you in the flesh." The man let go and took a step back.

"I must admit, I'm a little underwhelmed. Afterall, everyone fears you. Some people even think you're robots. They say you're barely human - that you don't feel emotions, you kill without mercy, never tiring. They say you don't feel pain. Let's find out."

Something hard hit 327's face, almost knocking them to the side. A metal bar they hadn't noticed. 327 pushed themselves upright, ignoring their now throbbing cheekbone.

Another blow to the other side had them sprawled over the cot and 327 spat out some blood, glaring but still not looking at the man as they crossed their legs again.

"So you do bleed. I'm impressed, most people would have at least winced." The man smiled. "I wonder if I can make you scream?"

[whumpy-daydreams]

Prompt:

caretaker finds a terrified whumpee, covered in blood, and holding a knife.

this got a bit long and i kinda forgot about the 'terrified' part of it but i hope you enjoy! ive added a read more so it doesn't clog up feed

cw: reference to murder, past abuse, mentions of blood and a knife (obviously)

When Caretaker woke, the flat was quiet. At first they thought Whumpee was still asleep - which would be good, god knows they didn't sleep enough. Three hours passed, and Whumpee still hadn't appeared.

They didn't want to invade Whumpee's privacy (they'd had enough of that when they had been with Whumper), but Caretaker peeked into their bedroom.

"Fuck."

Whumpee's bed was empty. The sheets were a mess, still stained with sweat: probably from one of Whumpee's nightmares.

"Shit!" Caretaker said again, running to get their coat.

Outside there was still frost on the ground. Caretaker's breath misted in front of them as they tried to work out where Whumpee could be. There were alleys near the apartment block. That seemed like as good a place as any to start.

The first two were empty apart from the overflowing bins and rats. Caretaker was just about to leave the third when they heard a choked sob.

"Whumpee?" They asked cautiously, heading towards the bin where the sound had come from. Whumpee was curled up next to it, shaking and crying slightly. Caretaker gasped. There was blood all over whumpee. "Whumpee, what happened?"

Whumpee took a shaky breath, curling their legs in tighter. Then caretaker noticed the knife in their hand. The blade was stained red, still wet.

"You're going to hate me." Whumpee said, not looking at Caretaker.

"Just tell me what happened."

"I saw them." Whumpee's eyes seemed to glaze over as the talked. "In the supermarket yesterday. I don't think they noticed me but... It was easy to find them."

"Who? Whumpee - who did you see?" Who did you hurt? was what they meant to say. Whumpee looked at them, the fear replaced with burning hatred.

"Whumper."

Caretaker swallowed. They thought Whumper had been arrested - had told Whumpee that they had.

"Why didn't you tell me you saw them?"

"Because you'd just try and stop me."

"Where are they now?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Whumpee, tell me." Caretaker grabbed their shoulders and Whumpee flinched, shaking their head. "Did you... are they dead?" A small nod. "Jesus, Whumpee. Listen, you have to tell me where they are, if the police find out and-"

"I've taken care of it. I just want to go home."

Caretaker didn't want to know what Whumpee meant by 'take care of it'. They reminded themselves that Whumpee would know how to get rid of a body - or at least the evidence that they did it.

Caretaker nodded, helping Whumpee to their feet. They were shaking like a leaf, breaths short and erratic.

"Okay, it's okay. Let's just get you cleaned up."

[whumpy-daydreams]

Unknown rescue

Writing masterlist

Whumpee didn't know what was happening. The gun fire had started a while ago, at first distant, but now it was loud, deafening. There was shouting too, and the sounds of running.

Huddled in the corner of their bed, they watched the door. If it opened, who would come through? Should they fight, or accept whatever was to happen to them? They were too tired to know.

Slowly, oh so slowly, the sound of gunshots dissipated. The shouting ceased not long after. Maybe everyone was gone? But whumpee was still locked in their cell. And then it started. Muffled through the walls was the distinct buzz of doors unlocking. Whumpee kept their eye on the door.

Bzzzzt. The door swung open, and whumpee stiffened. But the person in the doorway wasn't wearing the usual guard uniform. That doesn't mean they won't hurt you, a small voice in their head said.

"It's alright, you're safe now." The stranger said, walking slowly towards them. "Can you walk?"

Whumpee wasn't sure. Their chest was too tight, their muscles too tense with fear and anticipation. The stranger stepped nearer.

"We're here to get you out. We won't hurt you, I promise." The stranger was too close now, and smelled of gunpowder and blood. As they reached out to touch them, whumpee lunged.

The stranger wasn't expecting it, and whumpee tackled them to the ground before sprinting for the door.

The corridor was chaos, the lifeless bodies of the guards strewn about, and captives being escorted to the right by unfamiliar faces, some bleeding, some crying, some barely conscious. Whumpee ran left.

Shouts followed them, cries for 'help!' and 'medic!'. Whumpee tried to run faster but their legs were weak and they tripped, sprawling across the floor. Someone pinned them down and they screamed.

"Calm down. We're not going to hurt you." But whumpee's screams had turned to sobs and that voice in their head kept whispering liar, liar, LIAR.

A needle pricked their arm. Whumpee thrashed, trying desperately to get away as the cold spread down, forcing their muscles to still and relax. Through the haze they heard someone apologising. And then they were being lifted, placed on a stretcher and carried away.

Sight and sound was a blur, but eventually there was crisp cold air against their skin and sunlight in their eyes. Run, said the voice, and whumpee replied, I can't.

The sunlight disappeared. A siren blared. There was something on their face, and an odd smell, and then there were wires and something sticky and the beeping of monitors. A word came to mind, distant but clear. Ambulance.

[whumpy-daydreams]

Psychiatric evaluation

Masterlist

Previous

CW: military whump, past captivity, dehumanisation, brief reference to self harm

The last day of 327's isolation came with a heavy feeling. They'd passed Whumper's test (they hoped), but today was their psychiatric evaluation.

They'd had psych evals before - more than any other weapon in the entire division - but that never made it easier. Each one was a black mark on their record. A sign that they were broken.

The thought made it hard to eat but 327 finished their breakfast anyway. Not doing so would only prove they couldn't follow orders.

327 made their penultimate walk from the cells to their unit's quarters. They were used to the stares they got from the other soldiers, the whispers and contempt. They weren't as used to being accompanied by two guards.

It wasn't a good look. A weapon who couldn't follow commands was a liability, something that only proved to the regular soldiers that they were things to be controlled rather than valuable teammates.

327 supposed it was why they were never shackled when being escorted. Too imply that it was just a formality and not because they were dangerous to other people.

They were grateful none of the other weapons were around to see them be taken to the General's office. 327 saluted at the three people in front of them as the guards left.

"Sit down." The General's face was void of emotion, a indecipherable mask of professional calm. "State your rank and service number for the record."

"Corporal, E3AR2-27."

"327," the psychiatrist began, "this psychiatric evaluation is following the events of operation xenon. Please describe your actions at the end of that mission."

"During the evacuation of civilians squad we were given orders to return immediately to the evacuation point. I disobeyed those orders to assist wounded civilians, resulting in my capture by the enemy." 327 kept their voice as neutral as possible as they spoke, running through the events they had played over and over in their mind.

"Why did you disobey those orders?"

"At the time I believed my commanding officer did not have access to the same information as me." The words were chosen carefully, truthful yet... detached.

"What information did you have that your commanding officer didn't?"

"I believed that the preservation of civilian life was still possible within the time frame given."

"Do you often believe you have information your commanding officers don't?"

"No, sir." It wasn't that 327 didn't think they lacked information, they just disagreed with the best course of action.

"While imprisoned by the enemy did you reveal any information?"

"No, sir."

"They had access to your armour. Do you believe they gained any information about that technology?"

"I am unaware of any information they may have discovered and later eliminated all hostiles at the site to prevent the spread of information."

"Do you believe you made the right decision to disobey orders?"

"No." It wasn't entirely true. 327 knew there had been other options for the situation at hand, regardless of what they knew at the time. And yet they wished they'd followed the orders anyway.

"Did you experience any emotional dysregulation prior to the mission?"

"No, sir." Emotional dysregulation. 327 knew what they meant by that. No, they hadn't felt any emotions. No, they hadn't hurt themselves in an attempt to feel anything.

"And have you experienced any in the last month?"

"No, sir."

"What is your relationship with 305 and 323?"

327 blinked. "They're my team, sir."

"Would you say you're close to them?"

"We... maintain a strong bond so that we're able to work well together." 327 struggled to find the right words. They hadn't expected any questions about their team.

"If given the order to neutralise a member of your team, would you be able to complete the task?"

327 frowned. "I don't understand, sir."

"If a member of your team became an active threat, would you be able to neutralise them?"

No. Their team was like family. They were family. Thoughts raced through 327's mind. Scenarios where 305 or 323 were trying to kill them, how the order to eliminate them would sound...

"Yes, sir." 327 knew it was the right answer, even if they didn't believe it.

"This interview is concluded, 327 you will be returned to your cell while we review your evaluation. If cleared for active duty you will be returned to barracks tomorrow."

They didn't need to say what would happen if 327 wasn't cleared. They just hoped they'd done enough to avoid it.

[whumpy-daydreams]

Feeling pain is better than feeling nothing

Writing Masterlist

Living weapons shouldn't feel emotions, 327 knows that. But they hate the emptiness, even if feeling something means consequences

CW: self harm, manhandled, dehumanisation, bad mental health care, suicidal thoughts, living weapon, restrained

327 stared at the blood. It wasn't deep, they weren't stupid - just a thin line, no more than scratch. Slowly they drew the knife across their arm.

The sharp sting felt good, like a breath of fresh air clearing the foggy static in their brain. Proof that they were alive, that they could feel something other than the nothingness. Someone thumping on the door startled them.

They pulled down their sleeve quickly, thankful that the black fabric wouldn't show the red seeping through, and chucked the knife under the covers just as two guards walked in.

327 stood at attention, back straight, eyes forward. They noticed their superior was there two, just behind the guards, and they fought the urge to clench their jaw.

"Your arm." 327 put out their right arm and their superior yanked up their sleeve. "The other arm."

A moment of hesitation and their supervisor grabbed it anyway, pulling up the sleeve. They sighed as they saw the wounds.

"I thought we'd put a stop to this, 327." They let go and stepped back. "Take them to isolation, I'll inform the psychologist."

"No, please, it won't happen again, I swear-" A harsh look from their supervisor silenced 327 as the guards grabbed their arms. It was an effort not to fight back as they were half dragged from their room, down towards the isolation cell.

The room was white, almost empty except for the hard bed in the centre, with padded metal cuffs to keep them down. 327 let them close around their wrists and ankles - fighting back would only get them sedated.

Weapons don't cry. It was like a mantra, and one they kept repeating, even though their breaths were still shaky and tears half-filled their eyes. At least they didn't have to wait long for the psychologist.

"I'd hoped I wouldn't have to see you in here again, 327." The psychologist said, standing over them.

"I won't do it again."

"I wish I could believe you, but you've said that before. I've spoken to your supervisor and we've agreed that you need to be in isolation for a little while."

"No, please-"

"While I'm not your supervisor, I am still your superior." 327 shut their mouth. "While you're in isolation, you'll have a session with me everyday. At the moment it's planned to be a week, and then you can start to regain some privileges - but only if there are no incidents." The psychologist sighed. "Every time you do this you don't only hurt yourself, you hurt your team. Do you want to hurt your team?"

"No, sir."

"Good. I will also add that if you can't stay stable you will be cut from the program."

327 almost started to plead again as the psychologist left, the door closing behind them and sealing the room in silence. They knew exactly what they meant when they said 'cut from the program'. 327 found they didn't care. They weren't stable, and there was no place for defective weapons.

[whumpy-daydreams]

Capture the flag

Writing Masterlist

Previous Next

apologies this got so long and its not even that whumpy?? anyway have a sci fi action sequence

CW: guns, military whump

327 missed their team. They wondered what they were doing, how training was going, whether they missed them too. They wondered if 305 would be angry.

But the month was almost up. Only two days before they reunited with their team. First they had to get through two days of evaluation, and the first was with Whumper.

327 had no idea what to expect as they were escorted from their cell. They weren't led to the training rooms though, instead heading to the armoury, Whumper standing with crossed arms in the doorway. 327 saluted, keeping their eyes forward.

"For your combat evaluation you will be assisting with Company 4's defence training. You have three hours to retrieve the flag in sector seven and return to the extraction point. Any questions?"

327 knew Company 4. They still had 3 years of training left before getting deployed, though that didn't mean they were harmless. Like 327 they had been trained since birth, moulded into perfect weapons.

"Am I to engage with Company 4, sir?"

"What the fuck do you think?" Whumper stepped aside. "Suit up."

327 didn't waste time getting into their armour. It felt comforting to be inside the padded gel suit again, to know there was a layer of metal between them and the world. As they slipped their helmet on the neural interface fired up, the visual display merging seamlessly with their vision.

_

A sea of jungle spread out below them. 327 stood at the edge of the open jet door, waiting for the order to jump. They were glad Whumper had chosen this location - it was a place they'd trained in many times before.

"Preparing to drop in three... two..."

327 stepped off the jet. Arms tight to their sides they plummeted towards the canopy top, numbers dropping at the edge of their vision as the suit calculated the time to impact.

The armour was designed to absorb the force as 327 hit the earth. They rolled, retrieving their rifle, scanning the trees for any heat signatures.

All they had to do was think and a translucent map of the area was displayed, overlaying the jungle around them. Three miles north-east. 327 doubted any of Company 4 would spread so far away from the site they were protecting.

Unless... They activated their camouflage, the surface of their black armour rippling to refract light instead of absorb it. It wasn't perfect, but it would help.

327 set off through the jungle. It didn't take long before they were close to where the flag should be.

But there were still no heat signatures. No signs of movement. No signs of anything in the forest. 327 checked the map again. Yep, they were definitely in sector seven. So where was Company 4?

They made sure to scan the area thoroughly, on guard for ambushes. There was nothing there though.

"Colonel Whumper this is 327 in sector seven. No sign of Company 4 or the target, sir. Over."

327 waited for a response. "This is 327 requesting situation update. Over." Their comms were silent, not even static to suggest interference. 327 was on their own.

Maybe this was part of their evaluation. Think. What would you do if you were hiding a flag? The answer was painfully obvious. They weren't protecting a location, they were protecting an object. So Company 4 had left sector seven.

It was just a question of which direction they'd gone in. 327 scanned the ground. They didn't know how many people weapons they were trying to find, but they would have left signs. It didn't take long to figure it out.

327 moved north. Company 4 hadn't left much to show their path, but that didn't matter. They'd made enough of a dent in the forest for them to follow.

_

Finally there was a flash of movement. The heat signatures were low - the suits shielded a lot of radiant heat - but it wasn't hard to miss three figures in black armour in a sea of green.

327 crouched down, silently ordering their armour to engage cooling mechanisms. It could only maintain it for an hour before draining the power, but when you were outnumbered... well, it was worth it.

Attacking now wasn't the right choice. 327 was made for stealth, designed to infiltrate behind enemy lines or eliminate targets from a distance. The three figures weren't heading anywhere. 327 recognised the stance, the bored alertness of being on guard.

As silently as possible they crept to the left, hidden in the undergrowth as they went around the first set of guards. A voice in their ear almost startled them.

"327, this is Colonel Whumper requesting status update. Over."

Why now? "Colonel, this is 327. I've located Company 4, preparing to advance. Over," they whispered, quickly setting the suit's settings to silent.

"Understood. Over." 327 resisted the urge to grit their teeth, turning their attention back to the mission. Enhance heat signatures, they commanded the neural interface.

Glowing yellow shapes brightened, revealing fifteen- no, twenty - people scattered through the jungle ahead of them. From the way they moved, 327 could guess the flag was at the centre of the concentric circles they made.

327 got as close as they could before opening fire. Four people were on the ground before a single hit landed on 327. The beam of a stun laser glanced off their electromagnetic shield as 327 sprinted, using the trees for cover as much as the could.

Rays of light shot through the jungle, the quiet ambience turning into a symphony of energy as Company 4 began to group together.

Their suit could take ten full hits before the shielding failed, and another five before it would malfunction completely - a simulation of mortal injury.

327 changed tactics. Using the undergrowth as cover they changed position constantly, able to down another five people before taking a full hit. The biometric display flashed orange.

That wasn't right. It was registering three hits, not one. 327 didn't have time for this. They'd spent almost an hour finding the company - they'd have to be quick if they wanted to get to the extraction point on time.

From their position they picked off one person after another, keeping an eye out for any sign of the flag they were supposed to be retrieving. Finally they saw it: a piece of black fabric wrapped onto the arm of one of the weapons.

327 ran. Orange flashed again, another warning that their shields were compromised. It didn't matter.

They dropped the people flanking the flag-bearer and tackled them to the ground, straddling their chest as they grabbed their pistol. As 327 neutralised the flag-bearer, their shields went down.

It was time to get out. 327 sprinted west, their map overlaying the trees as they headed for the extraction point. They didn't need heat signatures to know there were six people on their tail.

A flash of light went overhead as 327 ducked just in time to avoid a stun ray. They rolled, taking position behind a tree. Light filled the air again as they went up against six opponents, keeping one eye on the charge left in their weapons as the felled two people.

Suddenly it occurred to them that Whumper had tampered with their equipment. The realisation was unwelcome but not unsurprising. 327 pulled back as a stun ray zoomed dangerously close to their head.

There were still three people left when their weapons ran out. If 327 wanted to reach the extraction point without 'dying' they needed to eliminate the others.

When another shot hit them, the visual display shot red.

But 327 was already there, swinging out a leg to down the person on the right, fist knocking another's head back. They grabbed a handgun from the first, quickly shooting three rays at their helmet, not bothering to watch as their armour disabled, rendering them motionless on the ground. Two more to go.

Red spilled across their vision again. One more hit and 327 would fail their evaluation. They spun, each shot hitting its mark as their target fell prone.

The visual display shuddered as a powerful kick to the stomach sent 327 to the ground. Their gun fell to the side, their opponent scrambling to get to their own. 327 got there first.

Luck was on their side. The last member of Company 4 fell to the ground with only one shot.

327 clambered to their feet, fallen opponents scattered around the jungle floor. One hour to get back to the extraction point. Tying the flag to their arm, 327 started running.

_

They could see the jet through the trees, positioned in a clearing, already prepared to take off. Whumper was waiting by the door, focused on his watch as 327 halted in front of him, saluting. Two minutes. Just two more minutes and they would have failed.

"The flag." Whumper held out a hand. 327 handed it over. "Cutting it close. Get on."

It was as much praise as they could hope for.

[whumpy-daydreams]

Living Weapon 327

Writing masterlist

What started out as random writing has basically become its own series at this point because i cant stop myself.

Feeling pain is better than feeling nothing

For your own good

An enemy prison

A strange welcome back

Following orders

Capture the flag

Psychiatric evaluation

[whumpy-daydreams]

Youngest but not the weakest

This was heavily inspired by @shywhumpauthor 's drabble Lessons

Continued here

CW: kidnapping, torture, multiple whumpees, blood, knives, gore, references to past abuse, nonsexual stripping, character called Youngest but not a minor

"Well well, fancy seeing you here." Whumper's voice was casual as they strode into the cell, smiling at Leader. "Don't bother talking, I know you too well for that."

They crouched in front of Leader and pushed a strand of hair behind their ear. The scent of aftershave was overpowering, a clear reminder of the pain inflicted the last time Leader was here. They knew Whumper wore it specifically for them.

"Sometimes I think you break in just to get caught." They ran a finger down the scar on Leader's face and Leader flinched back. Whumper laughed.

Stepping back into the centre of the room they took in Teammate and Youngest. One hero shackled on each wall. Perfect.

"Hello, Teammate, you've been working out I see. I hope that's not steroids. They turned back to Leader and pointed to Youngest. "I don't recognise this one though. New to the team I presume. Why don't you introduce me?"

Whumper walked over to Youngest and yanked their head back, hand in their hair. Leader's stomach twisted but Youngest stayed quiet, not even a wince despite Whumper's strength. Youngest met Whumper's gaze, eyes full of fire and defiance, and Whumper raised an eyebrow.

"I know Leader won't talk, and Teammate... well I've personally never tried but they have a reputation for a reason. But you..."

"They don't know anything." Leader interrupted. "Leave them out of this." Whumper looked at Leader with a grin, hand still tangled in Youngest's hair.

"Thank you for your input, but I think I'll start with them. Afterall, if they don't know anything they can't tell me anything so where's the harm for you?" They let go of Youngest, reaching into a pocket to pull out a knife.

Squatting down they began to cut away Youngest's shirt, but stopped. Scattered across their arms and torso were scars. Large and small, from cuts and burns and god knows what else.

"How frustrating to be second. Does Leader know about this?" Whumper glanced at Leader and from their confused expression they knew nothing. "Interesting."

They ripped the rest of Youngest's shirt off and they shivered in the coldness of the dungeon but kept their eyes on Whumper as the knife traced along old scars. Whumper dug the knife in deeper and blood dripped down their chest but Youngest only gritted their teeth.

"Please," Leader's voice broke. "Please, hurt me instead."

"Where's the fun in that?" Whumper chuckled. "I know your breaking points already." They moved the knife to Youngest's collarbone and they cried out as the skin split apart deep enough to reveal bone.

"This is much more fun."

[whumpy-daydreams]

A strange welcome back

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When 327 escaped and sent their location to their team they were eager to get back. They thought their superiors would be relieved to see them, or at least happy that they brought back valuable information.

What they didn't expect when the chopper landed was ten soldiers pointing guns at them. They complied of course, letting the guards strip them of their armour and secure handcuffs around their wrists before getting dragged onto the chopper.

Maybe it was just protocol, or there had been a misunderstanding. But when they got back to base they didn't see any of their team or supervisors waiting for them. Instead they were led to the cells. At least the restraints were taken off before the door closed behind them.

327 tried not to feel confused. They had escaped from the enemy, and had valuable information to tell the team. Why were they being treated like a criminal? They didn't have to wait long for the cell door to open.

327 stood at attention as their supervisor walked in, saluting even though their body ached and wounds cracked underneath their uniform.

"At ease, soldier." 327 relaxed slightly, moving their arms behind their back. "You had direct orders to retreat from the conflict, 327. You disobeyed."

"I made the decision tha-"

"Quiet!" 327's head whipped to the side as their supervisor's fist hit them. "Whatever reasons you had do not matter. You disobeyed direct orders which led to your capture, putting our technology in the hands of our enemies, risking millions of pounds of research."

"Sir?" 327 asked cautiously, but their supervisor nodded for them to continue. "I was able to access the computers at the enemy compound, they've been downloaded onto the suit's hard drive."

Their supervisor studied them for a moment. "Perhaps you aren't fucking useless then. That doesn't change your punishment though. A month's incarceration, and individual training with Whumper."

327 kept their expression neutral. Whumper was tough, and regularly used pain as a motivator during training. And a month without their team. They knew they weren't supposed to form connections with the others, but it was hard when you'd been raised together: trained and fought alongside each other.

They saluted their superior again as they left, leaving 327 to sit and prepare for the gruelling month ahead of them.

[whumpy-daydreams]

Plans

Continued from here

CW: youngest is not a minor, mild gore, torture, captivity, implied past abuse

When Whumper had finished Youngest was barely conscious and Leader and Teammate were hoarse from shouting.

"Youngest?" Leader asked, voice full of desperation and fear.

Slowly, painfully, they lifted their bruised and bloody face. "Hey... anyone else think that guy's a bit of a dick?" Youngest chuckled, and promptly winced from their probably broken ribs.

"I'm going to kill Whumper," Teammate said, mostly to themselves.

"At least wait for me to heal up first. I-" Youngest coughed, blood dribbling from their mouth, "I want to give them a taste of their own medicine."

"We have to get out of here first." Leader was surprised by Youngest's reactions but hid it well. This wasn't the time and place to ask personal questions.

Every since Youngest had joined the team four months ago they had been quiet, secretive, and sometimes downright rude. Leader didn't think they'd ever seen them laugh or make a joke. Maybe it was delirium? But Youngest didn't seem delirious - they seemed at home.

"So how are we getting out of here?" Teammate interrupted Leader's chain of thought, asking the important questions, as usual.

"We can't do anything in these chains. So we need a key, or wait for Whumper to move us." Leader snapped into focus. This was what they did. They solved problems and made plans. "Whumper would never let the key get near us, they're too clever for that. So we have to get it another way."

"I'll do it. Convince Whumper to move me somewhere else and take them down. The keys will be on one of them." Teammate looked between Leader and Youngest determinedly, and although Leader hated to put their team in danger, they knew it was their best chance.

But when Whumper returned, a few hours later. It wasn't Teammate they unlocked and dragged out. It was Youngest.

@whumpberry-cookie

[whumpy-daydreams]

A long way to go

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CW: medical whump

Rowena woke up gagging. There were people all around her and a tube coming out of her throat and monitors beeping. Someone wiped away the saliva from her chin.

"Hello, don't worry, you're just waking up. You've been asleep for a couple of days."

She didn't care. Sleep beckoned. A hand shook her shoulder.

"Try to stay awake for now, okay? Just while we check you're alright. Then you can go back to sleep."

It was an effort to keep her eyes open, her eyelids kept drifting closed. A few minutes later Rowena drifted back to sleep, and no one woke her.

When Rowena woke up again, there was only one person next to her. A nurse, busy typing at a laptop. Something tickled Rowena's nose.

"Hi," the nurse said gently. "how are you feeling?"

It struck her that this wasn't the med bay in the facility. The lights were warmer and there were lots of other people in the ward: people of all ages, and no one she recognised. Maybe she'd been moved somewhere else. A lower security prison, perhaps?

Rowena closed her eyes. What did it matter where she was? Soon she'd be taken to some cell and then there would be more experiments, more guards.

"I'm Joanna. I know you probably want to rest but do you think you could tell me your name?"

Rowena didn't want to rest. She didn't want anything. She'd stopped wanting a long time ago. She couldn't remember the last time she'd used her voice except to scream.

"Do you want me to get you anything? Water, a blanket? You shouldn't be in any pain, but if you need more painkillers just let me know, okay?" When Rowena didn't answer, the nurse smiled. "Sorry, I'll let you rest. Anaesthesia is strangely tiring."

There was a small voice in Rowena's brain. This isn't the facility, it said. This is a real hospital. Rowena shut the voice out. She wasn't free, this was just another cage.

Tag list: @i-eat-worlds

[whumpy-daydreams]

An Unexpected Reunion

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CW: ref to past abuse, ref to torture, swearing

Rowena spent a month in temporary accommodation. It wasn't that she didn't like living with the others, but it was a constant reminder of what had happened. Emma and Shaan were moving out anyway - together, which wasn't a surprise.

The staff had been helpful in setting her up in an apartment in her birth city. Perhaps it was a stupid move, a sentimental move, but it was the only place she truly knew and liked.

The flat was small and the landlord was a dick, but it was in a good location, high up overlooking a small district of cafes and charity shops.

She'd got a job in one of the coffee shops a couple of streets away. The other employees were friendly enough, even if they did look at her weirdly when they thought she couldn't see. But they never asked what happened.

Rowena spent the rest of her time drinking or rebuilding her strength, turning half of her apartment into a makeshift gym. Bur doing push-ups wasn't enough to reassure herself that she would be able to win in a fight.

...

Paz took a deep breath as he paid the entry fee to the fighting pit. It had been two years since Rowena had left. A whole year after she should have returned.

He'd pieced together some of the pieces. Some of it he'd suspected years ago, though he'd never told her his theories. But trying to find a hitman (hitwoman?) was not easy. There were only whispers, the odd post on some dark-web forum, brief news stories about businessmen who ended up dead.

It was a whisper that had brought him here. A tale about a girl who was raking in money at some grimy underworld fighting pit. Paz just hoped he was wrong.

The stadium was packed, sweat and blood filling the air, mingling with screams and loud bets. Paz pushed through the tightly packed bodies, the spectators too engrossed in the fight at hand to give him a second glance.

It was obvious the fight had been going on for a while. Both people in the ring were panting, covered in bruises and dried blood as they circled each other, fists half raised. Paz's heart sank.

Her hair was shorter and there was a gauntness to her face that hadn't been there the last time he'd seen her - but it was her.

...

Rowena was tired. And sore. This was her third opponent of the night, and the fight had gone on for almost ten minutes. Time to finish this up.

She dodged as the man lunged forward with a sloppy jab, bringing her shin up into his stomach. He grunted, stumbling back. From there it was easy: cross, hook, uppercut, and he was down.

Cheers and groans erupted from the crowd as money exchanged hands. The ringmaster stepped forward, holding Rowena's arm up as he paraded her around the grimy ring.

"Anyone else want to try their luck against tonight's champion?" he shouted over the din, when someone in the crowd caught Rowena's eye.

"Shit," she muttered. "I'm done. Get some fresh meat in here, I'll take my money in a minute." The ringmaster didn't bother hiding his scowl but let her go, quickly beckoning two more men into the ring.

...

Rowena was in the corner taking the bloody tape off her knuckles when Paz found her.

"Rowena?"

"Hello Paz." She didn't look at him. He exhaled heavily.

"What- Jesus, Ro. What the hell? Hello? That's it? It's been two years." Paz hadn't expected this. He hadn't expected to feel angry.

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know - 'oh my god, Paz, I've been looking for you', or 'sorry I left you with no information', or 'I missed you'. What happened?"

"Is that it?" Finally Rowena looked at him, eyes hard. "Hi Paz, I missed you, sorry I was forced to leave. Are we done? Good." She turned away again, pulling on a plaid shirt.

"No, that's-" he took a deep breath, his voice softer. "That's not what I meant. What happened to you? Where have you been?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes!"

"Why? Why does it matter so much to you? Why do I-" Rowena's voice hitched in her throat.

"Because you're my friend, Rowena. Because you're funny and strong and brave. I've spent months looking for you. When you didn't come back I was so scared you were dead. And then I find you in an illegal fucking fighting pit and it's like you don't even want to know me..."

Rowena's fingers twitched though she stayed still. "I thought it would be easier." Paz struggled to hear her over the din, but he could still make out the strain in her voice.

"That what would be easier?" he pushed.

"Everything. I only ever put you in danger."

"I can look after myself, Ro." She laughed; a cold, dry chuckle. "Just because you're some assassin that I'm completely helpless? I'm not a child." Rowena tensed as he mentioned being an assassin and spun to face him. Now it was Paz's turn to laugh. "Yeah, I worked it out. Not so fucking stupid after all."

"You know jack shit about me. About what I had to do to protect you." Her words were like venom in her mouth. "And now you have the nerve to tell me I'm cruel?"

"For the record I never said you were being cruel - but even if I had, you've killed people-"

"It's not like I had a choice, Paz."

"Bullshit! Everyone can choose to do the right thing."

"I tried." Paz rolled his eyes and Rowena stepped towards him, hands balled into fists. "No. Don't roll your fucking eyes. Because when I said no Marcus threatened you. Told me how he'd make me watch as he cut bits off of you."

Paz almost stopped breathing, but Rowena wasn't done. She turned around, pulling her shirt down to reveal the scars that ran down her back.

"I got these because I was friends with you. Because I dared to have a single friend." She turned back to face him and he noticed her tears were wet with tears. "So don't tell me I had a choice or that you can take care of yourself or that I'm the cruel one."

She stared at him for a second before grabbing her things and storming off, grabbing the stack of notes the ringmaster had left for her.

Paz just felt numb. She was right. He didn't know anything about her. His best friend of nine years and he had no idea who she was. You know she's funny. That she's strong and brave and that she got hurt to protect you.

The smell of blood and sweat drifted after him out of the fighting pit as Paz ran after Rowena.

tag list - @i-eat-worlds

[whumpy-daydreams]

VHRF Raid

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CW: brief medical whump, injury reference

They'd gotten the call two weeks ago - they were going to raid the Voscland Human Research Facility. Mark knew the plans had been going on for over a month, but he wasn't part of the planning process, just a soldier to do the job.

He wasn't sure exactly what to expect. The floorplan and technicalities he'd memorised perfectly, but inside? None of them knew exactly what they'd find.

It turned out to be like a hospital, all white and pale green and grey, with linoleum floors and fluorescent lights and the smell of antiseptic.

The raid had gone smoothly, almost all the staff at the facility rounded up in the gravel yard outside, the first few sections cleared, the prisoners gathered in reception to be checked by medical staff.

Mark wasn't part of that group though, he was headed to what had been described as the laboratories to gather evidence for what would be a very long court case.

But the laboratories weren't full of work benches and test tubes. Instead there were rooms more akin to operating theatres, with metals tables complete with staps and what looked like torture instruments. He thanked the gods they were empty.

As his team rounded the corner, they realised not all of them were empty. There was a guard in the corridor, still at their post despite the alarms blaring. They neutralised him quickly, handcuffing him against a wall.

Mark took position on one side of the door, someone else on the other side.

There was panic inside the room as they burst in: scientists and doctors scrambling to get out, to protect their research. But that wasn't what caught Mark's attention.

There was a girl strapped to the table. Tubes and wires led from her body to machines, an oxygen mask barely misting as her chest rose and fell. Bruises and burn marks scattered her white skin. Because it was white - not pale. The skin of someone who hadn't seen sun in a long, long time.

"I need a medic in here!" His voice cracked a little as he yelled.

The doctors and scientists were easy to round up, lined up against the wall outside to make space for the paramedics. Mark felt sick as he watched them work.

More medics were called to bring equipment. They took out tubes and pulled off wires just to put more on, someone intubating her as another person took off the restraints.

"Mark?" He looked round, where one of his teammates was waiting for him. "Come on, we need to search the rest of the wing."

Mark nodded, swallowing. He hoped there was nothing left to find. Looking back he saw the girl being wheeled away, back down the corridor. He probably wouldn't see her again, but he hoped she found a new life - one where she would be happy and safe.