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fallenwhumpee · 2 years ago

Text

Burn

• Masterlist •

Warnings: Military settings, war settings, torture, drowning, concussion, burning, self-sacrifice, nightmare, dysfunctional family, medical inaccuracies.

General woke up, their head pounding and vision blurry. They didn't remember what happened, and breathing was too hard. They lifted their head and closed them as the blinding lights and their sudden movement caused their senses to be taken over by a nausea wave washing over them.

"Finally awake!"

The voice was too high, and it rang in their ears, not helping the headache. They tried to keep their focus there, pain at their side pulsing with their every smallest movement. They fought against showing any sign of pain, but a silent whimper escaped through their mouth as the person kicked their injured leg.

"Now, now, I happened to have the mastermind of the enemy at my mercy." The person chirped. Too cheerful for fighting in a war, they bitterly thought. "I'm Whumper, honoured to meet you, General."

They hated how their name sounded on the enemy's tongue, and oh, they were in big trouble. It was their first meeting officially, but they had exchanged blows on the battlefield too often to call each other strangers. They knew the other's personality and the best moves, as well as the worst. So, when they were cornered, Whumper knew they would sacrifice themselves if that meant saving more lives, foolishly and desperately, if you ask them. After all, it had been their biggest flaw in Whumper's eyes, delaying the victory and sometimes losing ground. They knew sacrifices needed to be made but refused to do them until it was inevitable, although it was often considered an emotional choice, a weakness. Whumper's biggest mistake was their arrogance and barbarity, to assume they would do something like this without a plan.

They ordered their troops to be noisy, and only some of them would carry lights to multiply their shadows. The enemy would be tricked easily, and the area they patrolled was too suitable for an ambush. One side was covered with a cliff, the other side with the ocean, and just between the enemy lines and their forces. The patrol would report them in a vulnerable place, drawing the enemy and hopefully a high-ranked officer out of the camp. It was most likely since they led the troops, and the enemy only knew a few faces of the people on their side. They knew they were one of them because of the damage they had done to the enemy. They left as another general took their place, and they only hoped the new officer would still prioritise the men to an extent.

They drove out more than they had planned, odds taking impossible numbers in no time. They could never win, and they had even less ammo than they would normally have to give the troops behind an advantage in taking the base. They thought fast, and a plan formed. With loud orders for everyone to hear and some cripted demands to confuse the enemy, they formed an escape route for their troops. They threw themselves in the middle of the enemy, taking on the soldiers higher-ranking than the other ones around. They expected a bullet to run through their head without hesitation, but someone ordered them to be taken alive. They were too focused on fighting to figure out who they were, and even the smallest effort cost them their focus.

Their tight was stabbed by a knife, and they pulled it, not caring about the blood loss. They were not going to be taken if they had anything to say in the situation. They dropped their gun as they ran out of ammo and drew their knife, too. Striking with two knives, they ignored the pain shooting through their leg, and attacks from every direction were wearing them down. Some of the enemy were being shot by their men, and they hoped all of them would run instead of staying here with them.

Someone kicked their leg, and they cried as they lost control of their body. A knife ran through their side, and they fell to the ground. Kicks and gunstocks struck them, but they weren't going to cry. Everything faded with a final hit to their neck.

They knew no one would come for them. The war effort was more important than a commanding officer. They also knew their troops would be horrified by their thoughts. General had spent so long to deserve their loyalty and saved as much as them as they could. It was about breaking the strain that the legacy they carried with their surname. Their father was a general in the army, their mother was a loud politician, and neither cared about them unless they could be useful in any way, and the soldiers often mistook them as a spoiled child who cheated with their family's rank to rise. But it changed with time, and they could count on them to save their life, as much as the men trusted them with theirs. They would bleed and starve and laugh together and never risk each other if they had any other choice.

"Dozed off now? I'm offended. Is this how you come up with your ridiculous tactics? Sleeping in danger and daydreaming in front of your enemy?"

When did they last sleep? Probably long enough to be able to sleep like a baby on their feet despite their insomnia and nightmares of the battlefields haunting them. But they had a bigger problem than these right now.

They couldn't focus on what was going on around them, and before they could register that something was being dragged in front of them, their head was in the freezing water. They tried to hold their breath, but their lungs burned as their head was pushed deeper. Cold water filled their lungs as they trashed, and they felt weaker every second. Struggling was useless, and the ties got tightened with their every move.

Finally, finally, they sucked the fresh hair in as Whumper let go of them. But their lungs burned, and before they could breathe again, coughs took over their body. The ropes got only tighter as they tried to lean forward to gain control over the coughing fit, drowsiness not allowing them to resist as Whumper caught them from their hair.

Concussion, they absurdly realized. They knew how to resist torture. They had been tortured before, and their father made sure they could stand even against the most brutal methods. They never felt drowsy after being drowned to death. Drained? Yes, but never like this. And there was no other explanation for the headache invading all of their senses.

"Now, this wasn’t half of what you deserved for dozing off while I was talking, but I should move on to more boring matters. Tell me where your rats are hiding."

And their head was in the bucket again. Now they were more ready than they had been at the first time, but Whumper held them in the water forever. No matter how long they tried to hold their breath, every time, cold water washed their lungs. Coughing up it out was tightening the ropes even more, making it harder to breathe and prepare for the next time.

"Emergency at the main base!"

The radio shouted, and other voices joined the chaos until they just became a fogged sound in the background. It was torture to their head alone. Whumper growled at them angrily and slammed them to the ground as they smiled. They were content. Their side had hit the last blow in their defences, and at least General got to hear it, even if they didn't see. Whumper screamed and beat them to death, but they didn't let the smile fade. Everything was spinning as they stormed out.

General tried to gather their thoughts, but their consciousness was slipping as the sense of drowsiness grew every second.

"Weak," someone, a familiar yet so foreign voice spat. Gunshots deafened them, and they couldn't breathe, and of all the guns they had faced before, a golden handgun was pointed toward the ghost of the past. They couldn't scream, their words stuck at their throat. They were a kid, useless and afraid and too scared to move—

They jolted awake with the shot piercing through the nightmare. They struggled to breathe against the tight ropes, and coughs threatened them continuously. They couldn't stay awake, and a restless sleep would be cut short with the coughs hard enough to hurt their chest. Minutes, hours,... They didn't know how long they had been lying on the floor, but Whumper came back after what felt like forever. Their clothes were crimson red with blood and torn as if they had been through hell.

"You killed them!" Whumper shouted. "And I will kill you, torture you until you beg for death! You will pay for what you did!"

"Ridiculous tactics," They mumbled, unable to stop themselves as they coughed. Whumper pulled them to their knees, and a whimper escaped through their sealed lips. Whumper dragged them out and threw them into another tent.

They only saw a bedroll on the opposite side and a stove in the middle of the tent, and the heat was too much against their freezing skin, even if they were far from it. Whumper didn't stop there and changed their grip on their neck from their uniform. They struggled against the choking hold, but Whumper's fist fueled with rage knocked the air out of their lungs. They gasped and tried to get some air in, but Whumper slammed them against the stove's hot metal walls. They screamed and cried, heat burning and their body trashing to end this maddening pain. The scent of burning ropes and cloth and flesh mixed with blood sickened them, and all they could think about was pain, ripping their body and tearing their mind. They screamed until they couldn't and didn't notice Whumper had left them on the floor at some point, their back still towards the stove, heat radiating continuing to torment them constantly.

-•-

Gunshots, distant and familiar at this point, were their signal. General's Father was leading them to the enemy base, but they couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. They marched to war anyway, knowing this might be their last time. But the war was about to end, and the enemy forces would have to surrender if— when, they corrected themselves, they take down the enemy base. Two armies would clash one more time, and hopefully, for the last time. The enemy was cornered, and they were so close to throwing them out of their home. The base was half empty. The forces had been sent out for distraction when they spotted the enemy for the first time. The diversion was reported as three or four times bigger than General intended to in the enemy's eyes, causing more of the enemy to leave the base.

So they broke in and got out easily, destroying the communication devices and taking the supplies. One of the last forces of the enemy lay at their feet, and they stood proud with only minor casualties. But nothing was so easy, and the troops their distraction should have held busy came. Trying to take their base back, the enemy attacked. Both sides were brutal and ignored the tactical side of the war, unlike General's battles. But General's Father had sacrificed speed for troops, and the men had no way to know this until the last second. Whumper took that as a challenge, and chaos took over. In the end, they were ordered to track Whumper, who escaped with a small squad at their back.

They tracked them and stumbled to the troops who volunteered as a distraction. Their head was bent, and most of them had minor injuries and one-digit loss. They eyed the group for General, and the men looked away.

"Where are they?" Commander growled.

Of course, General had stayed back so they could run when the enemy rushed them with greater numbers than they expected. They just had to. They could be dead, or... A shiver went down their spine with the thought, and the anger they had buried a long ago rose. No, they had to be alive and well. They would see the end of this war they had devoted their lives to. They rushed to catch up with Whumper and didn't care as they left the injured behind. They knew the troops didn't, too, knowing that General could still be alive. They were followed by their original squad and a few additions from the diversion group.

They reached the scouting camp, nearly at the location General said probably was. Firefight didn't take long, and their numbers did the trick for the remaining enemy. Everyone spread to look for General, and Commander was the one who found them.

The tent was soaked with the scent of burning flesh and dried blood, and in the middle of it, General was laying and trembling. They rushed to their side and tried to lift them, but they whimpered and flinched. Their back was burned completely. Rage rose as they carefully lifted General. Whumper had an easy death, too easy. Shouting to the others, they rushed back to the camp.

-•-

Chief Medic was having a good day, as much as they could in a war. They had dealt with light injuries all day, and they had managed with the supplies they had. It had been so long since the last delivery, but no one had suffered because of the lack of painkillers. Until now. Until Commander broke into the tent with General in their arms, shaken in a way they had never seen them before. They sat General on an empty stretcher and began with the bleeding, and hoped the burns weren't as severe as they seemed.

"Hold them straight," Medic ordered after bandaging General's leg and patching up the wide cut at their side. "I have to peel the clothing."

Commander tried their best, but General was waking up - if trying to shy away from Medic's cold fingers counted as that - and struggling weakly against their hold. It had taken an eternity to get most of the clothing off, and General was growling more painfully by the second. Now and then, they would make a choking-like sound and whimper when they are moved. They gave both Medic and Commander a heart attack when they coughed up blood. Before Medic could tend to all the burns and understand what was going on, the general's fever began to rise.

"M-medi-ic," General wheezed.

"Stay awake," Medic ordered, their voice muffled with worry. "What had they done to you?"

"D-drow-wn-ned and—"

General coughed, clinging to Commander like they were the only thing keeping them alive. Medic found themselves humming, and Commander began running a hand through General's hair. If they had inhaled water...

"The- the b-base," General began when Medic finished wrapping the burns, and they motioned Commander to lay General down.

"We ended the war," Commander whispered, "We ended it." As if it was the only thing General needed to hear, they relaxed in Commander's arms, burnt shoulders relaxing under Medic's hands.

-•-

Commander reported to General's Father and met with an unreadable expression. He shook them off, not even hearing Medic's report. Not that they wanted to tell it again or hear it, but they thought General's Father would care about how their child was. They were only instructed to pack up the camp, so General's Father's forces could take over the last remnants of the enemy. They couldn't believe what they were hearing, was the victory the only thing he cared about?

They stormed out, ordering the men to pack up anyway. They tasked themselves with tidying General's - and their, no matter how much they every time said it still only belonged to General, and they were just staying around to keep them company- tent. There wasn't much thing anyway, only a field cot and a desk.

They moved to the desk, picking up a compass. General said it was their grandfather's, and he had used it when he was young and fighting in a war. Just like General, Commander thought. Its one side was a compass, and the other was a clock. It is my time, General had once said, voice thick, as it was once my grandfather's. It's the only thing left from him, his legacy and time, I tried to fix them both after he had died.

It is still moving, Commander breathed, and it will keep doing so. They put the compass into their chest pocket. They tidied the maps and burned down some of the letters buried beneath the paper piles. They had spent hours and long nights trying to get themselves out of whatever hellish situation wrong information and lack of backup put them in. Now it was all over, and they felt like they were packing up their soul instead of just a tent. They picked up their only possession this time, a knife with their name carved by the elder of their village as a blessing and protection. They placed it to their belt and abandoned the tent, which now belonged to General's Father.

Making their way to the medical tent, they eyed the soldiers resting around. The tent was mostly empty and silent, save for small noises of pain coming behind a curtain. They knew the medic was there, as well as General. They hoped General was at least resting, though they knew Medic ran out of painkillers even before they brought General to the tent, and it was unlikely for them to sleep in a good day.

It was a relief to find them sleeping, but also hard to watch as they breathed with pain. Pneumonia would do that, Medic had said before they left, and we could consider ourselves lucky if they could sleep through the worst tonight. General stirred, small movement jolting Medic awake. They ducked their head, and made a noise to make themselves known.

"What happened?" Was the direct question they had, and it was one of the traits they liked about Medic.

"We're packing up," they said, looking away from the fury at Medics eyes, and didn't dare to say anything to them rant about carelessness of the higher ups, and General was not ready to be transferred at this state. Their loud voice must've disturbed their half asleep genral, a silent cry caused both of them to flinch.

General gasped as medic touched their head, a cough fit shaking their body as the movement pulled the bandages at their back. Commander looked at Medic, but they just shook their head. No fever reducers either. Commander was helpless, so Medic. They both knew, silent support of understanding hanging between them, along with worry and uselessness. Then, with a resigned sigh, Medic began to pack and ordered a stitcher. The road was going to be hard, but they at least had a better chance of finding medicine back home.

-•-

Metal hitting something, a furniture flipping or a gunshot? Loud noises were too much, as if someone was slamming their head to a wall again and again, and they couldn't cover their ears. Their vision, now fading instead of getting blurry, couldn't pick up anything. Where did Whumper go now? Then, they heard someone hissing when the person touched their shoulder because their whole body was on fire, and deep pain in their chest was too much to bear but not enough to pass out.

"...them straight..."

Medic, they wanted to talk and thank them for everything, or just sit with them at whatever bedside they were on watch this time. But they remembered Medic had always felt bad when they didn't know what happened, and if General could open their eyes and tell them it was going to be alright, they just got drowned and burned and got beaten up but even if they felt terrible, they trusted Medic to do their best, and if it wasn't enough then they were happy to know that they stroke the... the enemy base, did they win? Were the men alright? Who led them, and where's their Commander—

"—the war. We ended it." And how nice it is to hear their commander's voice. They were alright, and it was all General wanted.

#whump #whump writing #military whump #tw war #tw torture #burning #self sacrifice #nighmare #dysfunctional family #leader whumpee #leader whump

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