#whumper henchman

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

June of Doom day 14

“What were you thinking?” (slurred speech, impalement, fight)

Henchman didn’t bother running as they approached the fallen hero. Their gait was measured as they glided past the rubble of their pursuit, residual power still sparking at their fingertips. They did not often exert their powers as such, but desperate times called for desperate measures. They looked down at Hero. “What, exactly, were you thinking when you decided to toy with my master’s heart?” 

Hero laid prone in the rubble of their battle. Their wounds bled slowly, dirt and blood staining their usually pristine uniform. From the angle their leg set, Henchman knew Hero would be unable to stand even if they’d tried. Hero stared up at them, eyes wide in a mix of shock, anger, and wounded pride. “Well shit. You’re the one who broke them out?” They gave a startled laugh, which was interrupted by a choked, painful series of coughs. Faintly, Henchman could see flecks of blood appear on Hero’s lips. The sight gave them a twinge of joy, but they refused to smile.

“Did you believe that Villain would be so easily defeated? Did you believe that, in their grief over your false love, that they’d throw themselves at your feet in repentance?” For all their power, their master had a sensitive heart. They did not trust easily, but they trusted deeply, and Hero had taken advantage of that. They’d spent months carefully weaving an almost friendly nemesis relationship between themselves and Villain, exchanging flirtations with Villain just as often as they did blows. It was no wonder then, when Hero pretended to wish to start a relationship that breached the divide of their opposing sides, that Villain had believed them. Henchman themself had believed it for a time.

It had hurt to see that faith shattered. It had infuriated Henchmen to hear that Villain had been captured, their hideout ambushed by Hero and their associates. It had infuriated Henchman when he came to free Villain, only to find them crying in their cell, still wearing the outfit they’d prepared especially for Hero’s arrival. 

Henchman was simply thankful that Hero had been foolish enough to reveal their true colors. Still, Hero’s deceit would not go unpunished. 

When they finally reached Hero, Henchman crouched low until they were at eye level. “You were incorrect. You must understand that the only reason I’ve not killed you is because my master has not commanded it. But, be assured that I very, very much wish to,”

“So what is this then?” Hero’s voice was rough and strained, and yet they smiled with bloodied teeth. “Were they too much of a coward to do their own dirty work? Were they embarrassed that they’d actually loved me, when I couldn’t give less of a shit?”

It was an effort to keep their voice calm. “No, I come here of my own volition to give a warning,” In a flash of movement, Henchman unsheathed the blade from their waist. They did not need the weapon, the destruction around them proved as much. But as they pulled Hero’s hair, exposing their neck to the point of their blade, Henchmen couldn’t help but appreciate the simplicity of a knife. “I am bound to protect my master, even before I am bound to obey them. You are spared now because I do not believe Villain will be vulnerable to your lies any longer, and seeing you dead may displease them.”

Henchman leaned in closer, their lips nearly touching Hero’s. They felt Hero shiver. “But if you dare to show your face to Villain again, I will have no choice but to rid my master of your presence. You would be forcing me to do something that may displease them,” Henchman pressed the knife closer, drawing blood. “And I assure you, I would not make your death pleasant if it came to that. You understand, yes?”

They could feel Hero’s heart fluttering, see the tension in their jawline. When they spoke, an edge of fear had entered into their furious tone. “I get it, asshole.”

Henchman stood, allowing themselves a secretive smile. “Good, we have an understanding.”

[distracted-obsessions]

Ok, but imagine Villain/Henchman/Assassin Whumpee being found by the heroes while they raided Supervillain Whumper's lair and they take Whumpee into custody. They don't handcuff Whumpee because they aren't fighting back (either too injured or in shock) but as they lead Whumpee out of the lair, Whumpee stops.

"Did you find them?"

"Find who?"

Whumpee pulls away from them and goes deeper into the lair. Every time the heroes grab them, they get more and more distressed, saying that they can't leave. They won't leave. After a minute, they start screaming out a name that the heroes don't recognize.

Just as one of the heroes goes to knock Whumpee out, they see a child crawl out from under the stairs and run straight for Whumpee who drops to their knees and hugs the child tightly, shushing their cries and whispering soft, comforting words. "Shh, it's ok. Mommy/Daddy is here. I'm ok. We're ok. it's ok. Shh."

[a-living-canvas]

CW : Nonverbal Whumpee

Decay

"Behave yourself, Whumpee."

Whumper said before leaving Whumpee alone with his henchman. Whumpee just nodded, looking at Henchman with hopeful eyes. Wishing that he wouldn't treat them like Whumper did.

"What is it, little one?"

Henchman asked, chuckling softly as he ruffled Whumpee's hair. Whumpee just smiled, feeling a bit better with him. Maybe if they were being really nice to Henchman, he would help them get away from Whumper? Whumpee could tell they were a nice person. 

Henchman crouched down in front of them, tugging their lips opened with his thumb. He shook his head in sympathy. "He really did cut your tongue, huh?"

Whumpee nodded, watching Henchman stand up straight again. "Poor kiddo. Do you want to eat? Or do you want to take a nap?"

Whumpee reached for their pen and paper, scribbling down their answer. 

I have eaten with my Master earlier. He never let me take a nap, though.

Henchman chuckled. "Don't worry, kiddo. You can take a nap as long as you want." 

Whumpee beamed up as they followed Henchman to Whumper's bedroom. He tucked them in and ruffled their hair for the last time before walking out of the room. Whumpee curled up in the blanket as their eyes drooping low, drifting them off to their slumber.

~

"Whumpee, little one, wake up…"

Henchman gently shook Whumpee's shoulder, watching as they stirred up from their sleep. Whumpee looked at Henchman in confusion but before they could say anything, Henchman pulled the blanket off of them, signalling them to get up.

Whumpee just obeyed, still in their drowsy state as they rubbed their sleepy eyes. Henchman brought them to the one corner in the house, where they could see Whumper's ceramic vase. Specifically a gift from his mother.

Henchman pushed Whumpee's forward, looking at them with a stern expression. "Break the vase."

He ordered and Whumpee could feel blood drained from their faces. They quickly shook their heads, not wanting to be punished by Whumper.

Henchman crossed his arms. "Do it, now."

Whumpee backed away, making Henchman got furious as he pushed them again roughly and took their hands from behind. He guided their fingers to grab the vase and Whumpee instantly let out incoherent mumbles with their desperate voice. 

Henchman squeezed their hands tightly. "Stop saying nonsense and break the vase!"

Whumpee shook their heads repeatedly, tears were streaming down their faces. When they finally grabbed the vase, Henchman pulled them to step back a little, positioning the vase to be directly above the floor. Henchman gripped their shoulders, not allowing them to move.

"Let it go."

He ordered. Whumpee was doing their best to hold the vase, to prevent it from falling. But they were sweating bullets, their palms felt slippery against the ceramic surface.

Please don't let me do this, please don't let me do this, please don't let me do this

They couldn't do it anymore. The vase finally slipping away from their hands and crashed to the floor in a thousand pieces. Whumpee's sobbing got louder. They were so afraid of what would happen if Whumper found out.

Henchman was just smirking down at them. He leaned in closer and reassured them in mock-sympathy.

"Aww, look at what you've done. Whumper would be sooo mad at you…!"

Henchman laughed loudly, leaving Whumpee alone as they stared at the remaining pieces of the vase.

~

Whumpee wrote down their apology letter to Whumper, telling him that Henchman was the one who forced them to break the vase. They hoped Whumper would understand and believe them. They just needed to greet Whumper first before Henchman did. They would make sure Henchman got what he deserved.

As they were busy with their letter, Henchman put down a glass of milk on the table. A look of betrayal was clear on Whumpee's face as they looked up at Henchman.

But Henchman just feigned innocence, pushing the milk towards them. "Drink it. You must be thirsty after all that crying." He chuckled.

Whumpee pondered for a moment. They did feel thirsty, and it's been such a long time since Whumper gave them sweet drinks. Whumpee wrapped their fingers around the glass and slowly lifting it up to drink the milk. Henchman left the room and Whumpee continued doing their work. 

They kept writing and writing until they suddenly yawned, feeling awfully sleepy. They tried rubbing their eyes but they just kept nodding off on their seats. 

Whumpee rested their heads on the table, closing their eyes to sleep for a few minutes.

~

Whumpee jolted awake as they heard a sound of the door being slammed. They saw Whumper on the doorway, eyes full with rage glaring down at them. Whumpee's eyes widened, scared of seeing Whumper like that when they saw Henchman stood behind him, smiling devilishly.

Oh no, he did not—

Whumpee panicked, searching for their apology letter when suddenly Whumper grabbed a fistful of their hair, rising them to stand on their feet. With gritted teeth, Whumper spat out. "Henchman told me everything."

Whumpee could hear the sound of their heart beating so loudly to the point it hurts. To the point everything was hurting so much they barely could function anymore.

They tried to speak, desperately trying even though it came out as whimpers and whines. Whumper sighed in frustration, dragging them by their hair as their body slid across the floor to the basement.

"I told you again and again, don't touch that vase!"

Whumper unlocked the basement door, throwing Whumpee in and walked slowly towards them who immediately scurried away to the wall. He narrowed his eyes at them before grabbing one of his tools. "Give me those naughty hands."

Whumpee's eyes widened and they immediately hid their hands behind their back. Their fingers trembling and they silently pleading that Whumper would have some mercy on them.

Whumper frowned, taking a step closer that made Whumpee flinched. "If you don't obey, I will cut off your legs too."

Whumpee got more scared and panicked hearing that. They held out their hands slowly and hesitantly to Whumper. Whumper sighed softly, rubbing their tears with his thumbs.

"This will teach you a lesson."

~

Part 2

@nothing-but-glitter-and-lashes @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

[letitbehurt]

Whumper grabbing Whumpee’s chin or yanking on a fistful of hair, forcing them to look.

[the-ghostly-butterfly]

Snippet 1.3

Previous

"Do you have ay idea how much of a threat hero truly is? How badly you could've been hurt?"

Henchman hesitated once again, but their wince of pain when Villain held their face and drew their eyes to theirs was enough of an answer to soften Villain's gaze. They heaved a sigh, gently releasing Henchman's face.

"What did Medic say--Never mind. i'll go speak with them myself. Don't move."

henchman followed orders, spending their remaining time pondering Villain's actions. The softness of their grip and the tone of their voice, most strangely of all the soft concern with which Villain watched their face. They'd even brought them directly to the infirmary as opposed to their office, and as it turns out had asked Medic not to let them leave until their injuries were documented and treated.

Time managed to pass agonizingly slow and all too fast at the same time, before Henchman heard Villain's quick footsteps beating a staccato rhythm at the door.

...

Henchman's face was pale and laced with an all too familiar taste of fear. Despite the ease of their actions and coolness of their voice (practically a confession, by the way) their intentions hadn't gotten through Henchman's head.

Unfortunate, but a conversation for another time, one much more private and much more comfortable for Henchman.

"It seems you have a much better idea of the threat hero poses now than I thought you did. Fortunately for you, I have some errands I have to run, so here's what's going to happen,"

Villain's hands are twitching at their sides already, so they fold them behind their back to keep the movements from henchman. Villain's sure they noticed, but the wariness on their face keeps them from asking questions. They wouldn't want to know anyway.

"I'm going to take you back to the infirmary, where you will be treated further. I've already spoken with them about the procedure I expect them to follow, so know that I expect you to cooperate with them."

Villain had spoken to Right Hand while Henchman was in the infirmary, ironing out the next steps: Hero's death and Henchman's recover at the top of the list.

They’d wanted to stop, to look at each of Henchman’s injuries individually and see to it that each had been treated and dressed. They wanted to ask if Henchman was in any pain, if they were scared of Villain or remembering their fight with Hero, what could have possibly possessed them to get into a fight with them in the first place.

They were exhausted. They transported Henchman back to the infirmary, giving Medic one sharp look to remind them of their prior conversation. Henchman was to receive treatment for every cut and bruise regardless of if Medic thought it necessary or not.

Then Villain left, if nothing else then to make sure they didn’t do something stupid.make sure they didn’t say something they shouldn’t. It was difficult enough to keep reminding themselves that taking care Henchman’s injuries would only serve to confuse and worry them further. They didn’t need more on their plate.

But how they wish they could.

Next

Short one today, next part hopefully tomorrow or the next day. Thank you all so so so much for the notes and kind words!!

Tagging: @nameless-beanie @crow-with-a-typewriter

[shywhumpauthor]

A Whumpee who is so touch starved that they will do literally anything for just a ghost of contact but who also hates being touched for whatever trauma reason, so they’re stuck in this hellish limbo between their desire to just be held by someone and the awful prickling feeling they get whenever someone so much as brushes against them.

Bonus points if their master/caretaker/teammates/whomever within the context has no problem being affectionate but they just won’t do anything unless they are literally asked or something of that sort.

This opens up a lot of potential for some really soft emotional scenes

(prompt 12)

[hadesstan]

June of Doom Day 13

"Say something"

| Rescue | Broken Promise | Weak |

Cw: The tags above, implied beating, betrayal

Sorry for formatting I'm writing on mobile. I'm also close to death with this cold so i apologise for the state of this.

...

Sidekick lay, broken and bloodied, in the middle of the street.

Villain had spotted them, about ten minutes ago, and battled off Other Villain, and Henchman had arrived soon after. They crouched next to Sidekick, rolling them onto their back to reveal the myriad of bruises.

"Who did this," Henchman growled.

"Other Villain," Villain told them, looking down at Sidekick in pity. "From what I've heard, Hero sold them out."

Sidekick groaned, their eyes fluttering as they fought to stay awake.

"Sidekick? Sidekick it's me, Henchman."

"They promised," they muttered, "they promised they wouldn't."

"Sidekick, what are you talking about? Come on we have to get you out of here."

Henchman, with some help from Villain, hoisted Sidekick to their feet, arm around them, holding them up.

"Hero promised," there were tears in their eyes, "they promised they wouldn't sell me out."

Henchman's grip turned tighter in anger as they led Sidekick away, towards their car.

"Hero will pay, Sidekick, I promise."

Sidekick just slumped against them and Villain helped carry them to the car and buckle them into the back seat.

"Hero will pay," Henchman repeated, and Villain nodded.

"This went too far."

[iwritewhump]

"take me with you" + stumbling + too weak to move

day 21 of @whumptember

692 words

warnings: captive whumpee, signs of abuse, neglected whumpee

---

Hero’s house is cold and dark, keeping Villain on edge as he sneaks down the basement hallway. He pushes open a door and peeks past the door frame. 

Hero sleeps soundly in her bed, blanket drawn up to her chin and a calm expression on her face. Villain rolls his eyes and closes the door again, making sure he doesn’t make a sound. 

He moves down the hallway and pushes open another door, frowning when the light from the moon reflects off a toilet. He sighs and starts to close the door again, but stops when he sees a thick chain across the floor. 

Cautiously, he opens the door enough to walk into the room. He closes the door behind him and turns his flashlight on, shining it through his fingers to dim the light as much as he can. Following the chain, he looks behind the shower curtain and nearly gags. 

Curled up in a small ball, Henchman stares up at him. The chain is latched to a cuff on her ankle and the skin is rubbed raw. She whimpers and tries to curl more into herself, the chain rattling noisily against the marble tile. 

Villain shakes his head and squats down in front of her, “I’m not gonna hurt you, but you need to stop moving. You’ll wake Hero up.” 

“No, no, no,” she murmurs, staring blankly at him. “I didn’t know, you have to-you have to trust me. I didn’t know.” 

He reaches out to wipe the tears from her face, but stops when she tenses and closes her eyes, “Know what?” he asks gently, “What didn’t you know?” 

She doesn’t answer. 

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head to clear it, then looks at his watch. “Shit,” he mutters. He stands up and looks back at Henchman, eyes lingering on the bruises littering her skin. “I’m running out of time.” 

“No,” she begs, reaching out to him, “Take me with you.” 

“I will, I just…have to get something first, ok? I’ll be right back. Don’t make a sound, Hero needs to stay sleeping.” he whispers. 

He turns the flashlight off and opens the door again, leaving it open enough so he doesn't have to turn the handle to get back in. 

The next room is locked, Villain curses and kneels in front of the handle and picks the lock as quickly and quietly as he knows how, just loud enough to make it take twice as long with him stopping after every click and scratch. 

Suddenly, the lock clicks open and Villain coaxes the door open, wincing as it creaks. Once it’s open enough for Villain to slip past, he walks into the room and turns on the computer and plugs the flash drive in. After an absurdly long thirty seconds, the computer beeps and Villain pockets the flash drive. 

He leaves the room and pushes back into the bathroom, barely waiting for Henchman to open her eyes again before grabbing her ankle and finding the lock. She winces and tries to pull her leg back, but even with the loose grip he has on her, she’s too weak. He swiftly picks the lock and lets the cuff clatter onto the marble before taking Henchman’s arm and helping her stand. 

She falls, hands gripping Villain’s shirt to keep standing. He mutters quietly and wraps an arm around her waist, ignoring her grunt of pain when he presses his hand into a scab. Her cheeks puff out from her trying to keep quiet and she buckles over in pain. 

“I…I don’t think I can walk,” she whispers. 

Without a word, Villain puts his other arm behind her knees and lifts her up. He runs out of the bathroom, not worrying about the noise. Up the stairs and out the front door before Hero’s nightside lamp turns on, Villain huffs with effort to put Henchman in the car without jostling her anymore than he already has. She stays quiet, only making a noise when he’s too rough. 

He mutters apologies and closes the door, then jumps into the driver seat and speeds away just as Hero’s door opens.

[whumperofworlds]

"Ow! Wh-what are you doing?! Let me go!"

Caretaker's heart nearly stopped at the voice that was coming from the recording. Their eyes grow wide as a soft gasp escaped their throat.

Whumpee.

"Shut it," Whumper's voice spoke. Caretaker could hear shuffling and struggling, likely from Whumpee's end. "You're just our little hostage against Caretaker. Once they show up trying to save you, they're in for a surprise!"

"B-but why?! What did Caretaker ever do to you?!" Whumpee asked, grunting.

"I said shut it!" Whumper growled. "They had ruined my life, so they're getting what's coming! And I'll start by hurting you..."

"Pl-please!" Whumpee begged, as Caretaker could hear more struggling. "Don't hurt Caretaker! Leave them alone, please!"

A soft thump resonated from the recording device, and Whumpee let out a cry of pain.

"Shut the hell up," Henchman spoke next. "Now be a good little captive and stay still while we tie you up nice and tight!"

Whumpee whimpered, as their struggling began to cease. The last thing Whumpee whispered before the recording ended was:

"Caretaker... please don't come for me..."

Once the recording ended, Caretaker gritted their teeth in anger. Their eyes narrowed, as they gripped the arms of their chair. How dare Whumper took Whumpee. How dare they hurt them.

Without another thought, they rushed out, weapons ready. They had to save Whumpee, even if they die trying.

[clickerflight]

Fallen: Part 12 - Whispers and Echoes

Author's notes: Suuuuuup I've cleaned up my writing list so I should be writing this story a little more often. Anyways, decided I wanted to give Ivan more attention. Enjoy!

Masterlist - Part 11

Content: henchman whumpee, scientist whumper, vague self harm (scratching), spiraling thoughts, dehumanization, brainwashing, dead body (injuries described), torture, syringes/injections for torture

...............................................

Alpha-2 lay quietly on his bunk. The thin mattress and blanket didn’t do much against the cold of the room, and he couldn’t stop scratching at his arm where he had been injected with more blood. He had the injections more than he ate, and they were beginning to feel more sustaining than food, even if the spreading rash drove him mad as it wandered up his arm. 

He scratched at his arm absentmindedly, staring into the dark, the echoes of sounds and training videos bouncing around in the background of his memory. He’d been very confused lately, and it seemed like the only time he could focus and try to remember what it was he had forgotten that nagged so badly at him was when he was supposed to be sleeping. He should be sleeping. He really should be, but here he lay instead, scratching at his rash and reaching out to remember. 

Was his name always Alpha-2? There had to be something before this, but all he could really remember was the training. He twitched at the thought to be certain his wrists were free and twisted his hand away from scratching to feeling his head. 

No headset. No headset. No training going on right now. Sometimes it felt like he was still there. Or in the box or jar. Had he been in the box or jar today? 

He was too tired to think. He might have been in the jar. He remembered so much noise…..

No. It was training. Physical training. He remembered now. With guns. He had done well. At least, Dr. Leanne seemed pleased.

And with that, his thoughts all seemed to snap into focus. Dr. Leanne was pleased. She was pleased. That was all he really wanted. All he needed. All he needed was her proud look, a touch, a little treat like nothing he could have even dreamed of wanting. 

She brought him peanut butter today. On a spoon. She had watched him eat it with interest, of course, and he had actually cried. It had been so good. He wanted to be so good for her, too. He needed her love and attention. He needed to do whatever she told him to. 

Better than Dr. Anderson. The man seemed to have it out for Alpha-2, setting him to train until he passed out or taking away meals from him for not doing good enough. Nothing like the gentle and loving Dr. LeAnne. 

No, Alpha-2 hated Dr. Anderson, and he badly wanted to strangle the man. He only just resisted most days because of the promise Dr. LeAnne made him. She would let him kill his tormentor. He just needed to be patient. And he would be ready. 

He slid out of his bunk and got on the floor, running through another set of pushups and situps even though he was so sore from his training it felt like his muscles were on fire. But he pushed through it, embracing and becoming the pain. He would be good enough. He would kill Dr. Anderson. He would recapture the asset. He would excel at everything Dr. LeAnne put before him. Be the perfect weapon. 

Still, something nagged at him. Something he couldn’t remember. Something that coated his limbs with gel, soaking him with sound and loneliness. Something-

A scream split the background noise in his mind, leaving him breathless on the floor, nails dug into his rash. A voice pleading, begging for relief. Someone screaming for help and then-

Alpha-2 blinked. What was that? Who was that? They sounded so scared. His heart ached for them. If he wasn’t so wrapped up in his own quest he would have found some way to help them. Was that it? His mind wanted him to remember some guilt for not being enough?

No, it wasn’t that, but he couldn’t think of what it could be. And at the end of the day, it could have been his own scream. Stars knew he had screamed plenty before his mental training was complete. 

And he would likely scream more. He still had mental training ahead of him that he would have to complete. 

Though, Dr. LeAnne said it wouldn’t be so bad. It was supposed to give him back some of his mental sharpness. It would organize the confusion that the first one had caused and he would be fine. No more of these late night musings and confusion. He would sleep peacefully again. 

He looked forward to it. He hoped the training took away this nagging feeling. It left him restless and nervous, jumping at small sounds and straining his mind when he was supposed to be paying attention to orders. A split attention would spell death for him on missions, that he knew. He was supposed to be focused, trained on the objective. 

And the objective now was to sleep. He supposed he could give it a try and get some practice in for when his training was complete. 

He got back into his bunk and curled up under the blanket, forcing his eyes closed. 

The echoing sounds from the jar wouldn’t leave him, bouncing around his brain like a screen saver. 

A screen saver? On a computer? When did he last use a computer like that?

His mind wouldn’t go back past the training in that room, strapped to a chair for what had been forever, it seemed. His whole life even. Perhaps he was born in that room. 

No, be quiet. Be quiet. It’s time to sleep. He should be sleeping so he was rested for the training Dr. LeAnne would be doing with him tomorrow. She said something about memory games and testing for bad memories. He hoped it wouldn’t be unpleasant. And that she had more apples and peanut butter. What he wouldn’t do for peanut butter. 

Quiet! Sleep! He was supposed to be sleeping!

The noise was still as loud as ever, and his desire to think on top of it to try and drown it all out was too strong. 

Before he could lose himself to another spiral, however, he heard the click of the door lock. 

He was sitting on the edge of his bed without thinking, his arms folded behind him and his eyes vacantly directed towards the wall across from him. 

The door opened and Dr. Anderson stepped in, eyeing him with a good amount of disdain and disgust. 

Alpha-2 happily imagined skinning the man alive before gutting him like a pig. 

“Alpha-2. Come with me.”

Alpha-2 got to his feet without a thought, following Dr. Anderson with his back straight and his arms still folded behind him. 

Down the long hallways they went and into a training room. A small one that smelled like blood. 

There was a dead body hanging with a hook through its hands. 

Dr. Anderson lifted the head up by the hair, watching Alpha-2’s face for any expression. “Thoughts?”

“Neutralized, sir,” Alpha-2 replied simply. 

“Look closer.”

Still dead, Alpha-2 thought to himself, feeling alive again, feeling more normal now that he had something to focus on. 

The body was fresh, the face a rictus of horror and exhaustion. The skin was flayed, nose broken, feet crushed. Tortured. 

He studied the face. Maybe this was the start of his memory tests? Did he remember this face? 

He stared for a long time, studying the bridge of the nose, the freckles, the cheekbones. That nagging sensation grew stronger and he thought he heard a whispered voice through the noise in his head. 

“If the boss isn’t busy tonight, we should all go out to the bar. You know, the hidden one on the East side.”

And then it was gone. The words stayed, but they meant nothing to him. Just a sense of a more peaceful time and the scent of bourbon. 

He shook his head. “Familiar, sir, but I do not remember this man.”

Dr. Anderson’s face took on a darker cast. “Familiar?”

“Yes, sir,” Alpha-2 replied, unable to lie to one of his masters. 

“Familiar is too much,” the scientist hissed. “We’ll see if we can’t beat that out of you.”

The door opened and he was grabbed, but he didn’t fight. He couldn’t fight. Not yet. Dr. LeAnne told him to wait. 

He was hauled off to another quiet room, a chair waiting at the center. 

He was sat in it, his legs tied to the legs and his arms bound heavily behind the chair. 

The guards stepped back to either side of the door as Dr. Anderson grabbed something from the corner of the room. He curled his lip at Alpha-2 and said, “I am the one in charge here, you hear me? I know Dr. LeAnne has some plan with you, and I intend to make sure you never betray me.”

Dr. Anderson stepped forward, pulling a cart from the shadowy corner behind him. There were all manner of devices on the cart. Of these, he picked up a syringe full of some orange substance. 

He plunged it into Alpha-2’s leg before going back to the cart. 

Whatever was in the syringe strung as it traveled up and down his leg, forcing his muscles to spasm with so much pain that Alpha-2 only just barely kept from yelling out. 

He gritted his teeth, sweat breaking out on his forehead and it didn’t stop there. 

The waves of pain spread up through his body, stronger and stronger, causing his breathing to hitch uselessly as his diaphragm spasmed, unable to scream now that he actually wanted to, his chest hurting as it made its way up and down farther. His toes and fingers curled, cramping horribly as his head twitched back into the chair, bruising his crown as his jaw spasmed. 

Then, just as it consumed his whole body, cramping every muscle he had, it faded. 

He gasped for breath, sweet air traveling to his lungs, blood trickling from his lips where he accidentally bit off the tip of his tongue. 

“That is only a taste,” Dr. Anderson said with a patronizing smile. “I have a whole trial of them I can show you. I’ve watered them all down, of course, so they only last for a few moments rather than the hours they normally would. I’ve been meaning to test some of them for a while now.”

He walked around to Alpha-2’s blindspot. “Now, I need you to understand that I am only doing this so you know what you will be facing if you betray me, understand? All this and more until you’re only good as an organ donor for our other projects. You are not as important as Dr. LeAnne thinks you are, understand? And even if you were, I have full access to you. I could do this to you every night, if I wanted. And none of it will ever leave a mark.”

Alpha-2 shuddered. The pain was so awful for only those few moments. Hours would surely kill him. How would he breathe? His heart would give out. Nevermind what else Dr. Anderson was going to give him. 

“We have a long night ahead of us,” Dr. Anderson pointed out. “And I have quite a few vials here that we need to test out. Let’s get started.”

Part 13 - Coming soon

Fallen taglist: @looptheloup @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @snakebites-and-ink @starsick1979 @galaxyofwhump

@scatteriskity

[kaiwewi]

Guilty Conscience #11

[Masterlist: Renegade Rescue Squad] [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10]

Synopsis: Henchman and Harper take care of Villain and the little hero. The group finally leaves Other Villain's lair.

tw: blood

“Hey there, kiddo,” Henchman cooed, deep voice as soft as he could make it, and crouched down to inspect the hero’s injured leg. “Aw, you poor baby, that must be painful. Mind if I take a closer look? I promise I’ll be extra careful.”

The little hero shot Henchman their darkest scowl yet – how dare anyone have the audacity to call them a ‘baby’? – and straightened their back.

“Don’t patronise me.” Despite their endearing stubbornness, the expression on their face strongly suggested they’d rather curl up in a corner and have a good cry than pick this fight. “I’m fine. Other Villain hardly did anything. I’ve had worse.”

What a gruesome thought. Even among Supers – a demographic notorious for getting involved with violent crime – no one this young (or anyone really) should ever see the inside of Other Villain’s torture dungeon, receive a beating, then witness a murder, and still be able to confidently declare they’d been through worse.

And yet, that gritty tenacity the hero had shown…

Harper tsked. “Kid’s got a point. They aren’t bleeding too bad” – her sharp gaze fixed on him, on the stain on his shirt – “and neither are you. So? That Other Villain’s blood? Where is that maladjusted waste of organic matter and breathable air?”

The little hero huffed a surprised laugh.

He merely cringed.

Other Villain’s absence had to come up sooner or later. Harper noticed such things. Whether it was an addition or omission of subtle details in a report, something small and half-hidden in the periphery of her vision, or a tactical bypassing of conversation topics – somehow, she knew. It was uncanny.

That intuition was part of what made her an asset. His entire operation wouldn’t have made it far without her. For what was a villainous ambulance service without its unrivalled getaway driver, and Harper was the best. (He was convinced she’d still be the best if her intuition were the only ace up her sleeve.)

He adored her.

He’d still rather not address the issue that was Other Villain… but he pointed at the door to the stairwell anyway; and of course, when Harper went looking, Henchman followed suit.

Half of him wanted to accompany them. The other half would have loved to make a run for it.

His trembling legs refused to budge either way, so he sat down. He couldn’t stand any longer, his head was swimming and his throat was locked so tight he couldn’t get a proper breath down his airways and Henchman would never look at him the same again because he was a fucking murderer now and he was so cold without his jacket and why was he spiralling now when he should be over this already and tears were pooling in his eyes again and—

The hero gave him a gentle nudge. “Hey, your friend’s coming back.”

He looked up, dazed, to find Henchman walking over, casually unzipping and shrugging off his fleece-lined, between-seasons hoodie jacket. Without a word about murders or death or Other Villain, Henchman kneeled down in front of him, helped him out of his blood-soaked shirt, and smiled.

“Hey love, it’s all right. We can talk about this whenever you’re ready. Just breath, slow and steady. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

The thick, plushy fabric of Henchman’s jacket (about three sizes too big for him) settled warm and heavy around his bare shoulders, wrapping him up in a comforting bubble of residual body heat and the smells of home: Bax’s beloved incense sticks, the eco-friendly laundry detergent Thief insisted they should all use, the smoke of Doc’s favourite brand of cigarettes, Henchman’s perfume with its smoky vanilla note, and the faintest whiff of sweat.

He fiddled his arms through the sleeves and allowed Henchman to zip up the jacket for him. Then he buried his face in the collar and inhaled deeply. The scent washed over him like the promise of forgiveness. For the first time in hours, he didn’t smell blood.

Henchman shrugged apologetically. “Been wearing that for a few days. Hope it’s not too smelly...”

“No,” he mumbled, “I like it. Thanks.”

The last remnants of his composure slipped from his grasp then, and once the tears had started falling, they kept coming.

Henchman scooted closer and put an arm around him. His head came to rest against Henchman’s shoulder and Henchman’s free hand ruffled his hair, affectionate and protective. The two of them remained in that position until he managed to calm down and was no longer sobbing and babbling half-coherent explanations and apologies.

He didn’t give a damn what Harper would think. And he almost didn’t care that the hero had witnessed half of his meltdown, until Harper had returned and had had the good sense to fetch the wheelchair from the van and cart the kid away, all the while muttering something about this not being what she’d signed up for when she’d joined the crew.

But when he and Henchman finally caught up with Harper and the hero, she was in the middle of entertaining the kid, flaunting her abilities for them by giving the van an illusionary makeover.

The plain white of the van’s exterior morphed into a complex design: navy blue swirling like smoke against a background of anthracite, adorned with ivy tendrils the colour of rose gold, softly bobbing as if stirred by a breeze. As he opened the sliding door, the ivy twined and curled to adjust its pattern around the empty space.

The hero watched the show, mesmerized. After receiving a large glass of juice and a few painkillers, their initial reluctance had begun to fade and was gradually replaced by a livelier attitude. They then spent the better half of the drive back to base asking questions: What was that button for? Why where there so many valves? Where were the cables coming from? Did the self-built ambulance have all the equipment a normal ambulance had? How many people had the team treated? Did they have doctors and a clinic for their patients?

Under the guise of showing the hero the equipment, he and Henchman even got to check the hero’s pulse, blood pressure, blood oxygen and blood sugar levels, and breathing. Afterwards, he allowed the kid to perform the same examinations on him.

“Your car is so cool,” the hero said. They’d taken off his mask.

With their face finally freed from blood and their scratches and abrasions sanitised and bandaged, that small smile tugging on the hero’s lips looked less like a nervous coping mechanism and more like the tentative beginnings of genuine optimism.

———

taglist: @d-cs @whumpycries

[distracted-obsessions]

Warnings: non-con touch (not very sexual?), knife,

Villain stared at Henchman in utter shock as he had been for the last 4 minutes. Henchman was nonchalantly cleaning the blood off of their knife, calm dispite the body of the man they just killed on the floor. The rest of the meeting had been canceled and everyone else had left in a hurry.

"Why?" Villain finally asked, refusing to allow his hands to shake.

"Because he wasn't allowed to talk to you like that," Henchman replied coolly.

"He was important!"

Henchman looked up and fixed Villain with a stern look. "He spoke to you like you were nothing. Like you were a puppy nipping at his heels. No one is allowed to talk to you like that."

"You speak to me like that!" Villain yelled, torn between rage and fear.

"Yes. I'm different."

"How?"

"I love you."

Villain froze and stared more. Henchman looked right back, expressionless, waiting for Villain to react. It took another minute before he finally managed to choke out, "N-no... you don't..."

Henchman sighed and stood vaulting over the table the same way they did to get to the now dead man. Villain was powerful. Villain was capable. Villain could protect himself against things much more powerful then Henchman. Villain still scrambled backwards as Henchman drew closer, pressing his back against the wall.

Henchman didn't stop approaching. They slowly put the knife away and held up their hands in surrender but were watching Villain like they were making sure they could catch him if he tried to run. They gently ran a bloody hand down Villain's arm, shushing him when he flinched.

"I can't stand seeing them talk to you like that. Seeing them treat you like that." They held Villain by the shoulders, making him feel like a puppy cowering in the corner, hoping someone will save him from the predator hovering over him.

Henchman leaned in and Villain turned his head away, his body trembling. He could feel Henchman's disappointment but they just leaned in to whisper in Villain's ear.

"If I have to kill every superhero and supervillain in this rotten city to get you the respect you deserve then that's what I'll do. And if I have to tie you down and lock you in your room to keep you safe,"

"So be it."

[a-living-canvas]

-request from anon for continuation <333

Part 1

Decay II

"Henchman, can we talk for a moment?"

Whumper asked, nodding their heads to Henchman to enter their office. Henchman followed their steps, closing the door and stood in front of the desk. "Yes, boss?"

Whumper seemed to be deep in thought, tapping their fingers on the table. They took a deep breath, sighing softly. If possible, they didn't want to question Henchman like this, he's their loyal subordinate, after all. But they couldn't shake the weird feeling pooling in their stomach. Something must have happened that he didn't know of.

"I told you to take care of Whumpee. Where were you when they broke the vase?"

"I was using the restroom at that time…"

Whumper went silent again, thinking. "Did you ask them why they did what they did?"

Henchman raised an eyebrow, turning the wheels inside his brain. Of course he didn't ask Whumpee, but he wouldn't tell that to Whumper. "Whumpee said they couldn't stand living here. Maybe it's just them being defiant. You don't need to worry so much though. You already punished them, right?"

Whumper sighed, feeling frustration building up at Henchman's tone of voice. " Well, yeah…"

Another silence but this time Whumper lifted and locked their eyes with Henchman. They narrowed their eyes, examining Henchman carefully. His body language and energy. He was nervous, Whumper could tell. And when Henchman evaded his eyes from Whumper— Bingo.

"Are you lying?"

Henchman was caught off guard by the question. He cleared his throat, chuckling nervously. "No, I'm not. Why would I?"

Whumper shrugged, crossing their arms. "I mean, I know my Whumpee. They might be a brat, but they know when to stop fighting...and that brat stopped resisting after I cut off their tongue."

Henchman shifted slightly, fidgeting with his fingers. It's a rare occurrence for him to be scared of Whumper, and he was pretty sure Whumper had already seen right through him. They could smell people's fear anyway, and right now, Henchman was reek of it.

"Lock the door." Whumper ordered. They hoped the slight flinch coming from Henchman could make them feel a bit better but no, they felt so much anger and annoyance to even feel happy about it.

Henchman locked the door hesitantly, he could feel Whumper's gaze burning through his skull, straight to his soul. Whumper walked closer and Henchman forced himself to stay calm and not let out a pathetic whimper that was bubbling at the back of his throat.

Whumper was just that intimidating.

"Kneel. Hands behind your head."

"B-boss, please—!"

"I said kneel, you piece of—"

"Okay, okay! I will do it…"

Henchman got on his knees, lifting his arms as he brought his hands behind his head. Whumper was circling him, taking in his form before they crouched down behind him. They pulled out a scissor and with one swift motion, tearing Henchman's shirt apart.

"Boss, w-what are you—"

"Shut up."

Whumper stood up, unbuckling their belt before wrapping the end around their right fist. They hit Henchman's back with a light smack, and a slight whimper was heard coming from him.

"It will get more painful after this."

Henchman bit down his bottom lip, trying to control his emotions. He couldn't get caught now, he wanted to have more fun bullying Whumpee. And actually, he didn't even know if Whumper would let them live if they knew the truth. 

"I will ask you some questions like earlier. Everytime you lie, I will hit you for punishment. Deal?"

"Y-yes…"

"Good. You signed for this." Whumper paced back and forth slowly behind Henchman. "First question, where were you when Whumpee broke the vase?"

"Y-you asked that earlier—"

A sharp, burning pain landed across Henchman's back. He took a deep breath, holding his trembling body as Whumper repeated their question. "Tell me the truth."

"T-toilet—"

Another hit, another pitiful whine and whimper.

"I don't believe that. I will ask you for the third time, where were you when Whumpee broke the vase?"

Henchman stayed silent, sniffling and panting softly. Whumper sighed, lifting the belt again to leave another mark on his back. "Answer me—"

"W-watching!"

Whumper raised an eyebrow, lowering their hands. "Watching?"

"Y-yes…"

"...You watched them break the vase?"

Henchman nodded and something clicked inside Whumper's mind. They grabbed a fistful of Henchman's hair, pulling it upwards to meet his gaze. With a gritted teeth, they asked, "Did you force Whumpee to do it?"

No answers. Only a look of pure fear reflecting in Henchman's eyes. Whumper let go of his hair and without hesitation, sending a few painful strikes across Henchman's back. He let out a blood-curdling scream, arching his back as he pleaded desperately for Whumper to stop.

"I will keep doing this until I heard some truths coming out from that filthy mouth."

~

"Ah, little one's sleeping."

Whumper murmured softly. They sat beside Whumpee's small bed, looking at their peaceful expression. 

'They move a lot in their sleep, huh?'

Whumper thought, pulling the blanket up under Whumpee's chin. They tucked Whumpee's arms inside, feeling guilt washed over them.

If only they listen to Whumpee. If only they investigate the matter first before punishing them, Whumpee wouldn't end up in this state.

Whumpee stirred awake in their sleep, looking up at Whumper with half-lidded eyes. Whumper smiled softly. "Hi, little one…"

They pushed a few strands of hair out of Whumpee's forehead before looking at them apologetically. "I'm sorry about your hands, I should have known it's not your fault…"

Whumper sighed. "Are you mad at me?" 

Whumpee hummed a little before shaking their head. It's not Whumper's fault, it's Henchman's. Even though they lost their hands for nothing, Whumpee still wasn't mad at them. They were mostly only scared…

"I can't give you your hands back but I will let you rest for…um, three days? Are three days okay?"

Whumpee nodded again, smiling this time. Whumper sighed in relief, ruffling Whumpee's hair. "I already fired Henchman, you won't see him again, okay?"

"Mhm…" Whumpee hummed softly. Little did they know Henchman's already dead and was being fed to Whumper's dogs because of them.

~

@nothing-but-glitter-and-lashes @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @risk606 @heyyitsworld @electrons2006

[whumppromptoftheday]

“are you...scared of me, henchman?” hero asks.

henchman tenses. “the last time i saw villain, they were coming to see you. its been weeks and i haven’t heard from them.”

[shywhumpauthor]

Employee of the Month

Not sure what this is or what the point of it is. Just take the whump. No editing because no

Cw: torture, murder, graphic depictions of death/killing, interrogation, restraints, a lot of violence, mentioned non-con nudity (non-sexual), implied mass murder/killing, reluctant Whumper

Henchman reeled back as a fist slammed into the side of their jaw, snapping their head to the side and causing them to sway in their restraints.

By now, they had lost any hope of standing, left to hang by the thick metal shackles around their wrists that held their arms up, the cuffs biting into their skin hard enough to leave ugly bruised indents that wept droplets of crimson down their forearms.

They could barely keep their legs beneath them, much less try to bare weight on them. From the awkwardness of the height they were restrained at, they would only be able to stand really if they stood on the tips of their toes, which left them scuffling around, the muscles up their calves cramping as they tried to keep from rocking back and forth.

Blood dripped from a wound on their temple, leaking into their sight and tinting their vision with a stinging red that they quickly tried to blink away. Tears clung thick to their eyelashes and their cheeks, mingling with the blood smeared across their face from their broken nose and turning it to a watery pink that ran down to their neck and chest.

Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult as they let their head fall forwards, hoping that the motion would deter some of the blood from trickling down the back of their throat and suffocating them. Their lips were parted, each breath coming in as a wheeze. It felt like their lungs were full of something, thicker than water and warmer than it should feel. Each inhale was work, the breath scraping against their windpipe all the way to their lungs.

Breathing out was a bit easier, with each exhale a bit of red tinted saliva dribbled from their lips, the bottom which was split so badly by the right corner that they couldn’t close their mouth fully. It had been ripped open by their own teeth, a result of one of the first punches thrown against them, whatever plating beneath the Hero’s gloves turning what would be a bruise into a mauling of blood and fractured bones.

“Tell me,” Hero growled out, grabbing Henchman’s jaw with the same hand that had just struck them, wrenching their head towards them. Henchman could feel their heavy breath against their face, they hadn’t been pulling any punches. Somewhere distant in Henchman’s mind, they envied how Hero could draw in so much air with such ease, so little effort, while they were left to gasp and try to get the oxygen they so desperately needed around what felt like their collapsing windpipe.

Henchman had broken ribs before—it was almost guaranteed in their field, after all. It sucked, which was an understatement. It was miserable, but bearable.

This, this was beginning to border on unbearable. The pain was worse than anything they had ever felt, sharp piercings of pain drilling through their chest and spreading out through their torso. The pressure was awful, building and building against their lungs until everything lapsed into a blur of pain.

“Tell me what villain is planning.” Hero repeated, their voice sharper as their nails dug into Henchman’s face, scraping the skin when they ripped their hand away in frustration when they received no answer, letting Henchman’s head fall again before quickly slamming a knee into their gut.

“I don’t care how long it takes, this will go on until you fucking talk.”

And it went. On and on, but Henchman had already lost all track of time—consciousness was only a muddled depth of agony and exhaustion. It was a miracle, or a curse, that they hadn’t passed out, but through the haze Henchman was able to piece together enough thought to maybe come up with some sort of explanation. They hadn’t really noticed it, lost between the burn of the stun gun Hero had used and the sting of the fresh lashes across their back, but at some point they were sure they had been drugged. A small prick along the side of their neck, followed by a rush of awareness that hadn’t lasted long.

It was hours. Felt like days. There wasn’t a patch of skin anywhere on their body that wasn’t marred by some bruise or cut. At some point, Hero had tapped out, but they had been quickly replaced by some lower grade Agency member.

That was some sort of relief. While Hero’s aggression had been fueled by genuine hatred towards Villain and anyone associated with them such as Henchman was, Associate had no connection with them. Really, they seemed almost reluctant to take part. There was no emotion behind their actions, and every so often they would even pause for a moment to take a break, but some part of Henchman wished to think they were doing it to allow Henchman a moment to rest.

At one point, even, someone had lifted their head up, though Henchman wasn’t sure who. Their eyes had been so swollen with bruises, vision impaired with tears and blood, they couldn’t see much of anything. The touch hadn’t been rough, dare they say gentle even, carefully parting their lips to trickle a bit of water from a bottle down their throat.

“…Hero, we need to stop, they can’t-”

“I don’t care. You are not stopping until they talk.”

“But- Hero, I don’t think they’d be able to speak now anymore-”

“Keep. Going. That is an order, Associate.”

And so it kept. A bucket of cold water dumped over their body, exposed as all their clothes had been cut to shreds on the floor, showing where there was still space to inflict more pain. They weren’t cold for long, as Associate began to hold a lighter to the existing gashes.

…

“Hero, I don’t know what to do anymore. They’re not going to talk. They can’t. You need to cut them down, let them rest a bit-”

“You are in no position to be telling me what to do,” Hero snapped. “Get the hell back in there before you tor their fucking pl-”

The door flew inwards with a sharp kick, bouncing off the wall of the little conference room outside the interrogation chamber. A loud bang split the air, quickly followed by another, and both Hero and Associate were dead before their bodies fell, brain matter splattering across the one-way glass behind them that viewed in on the interrogation chamber.

Villain stepped forwards, a flicker of rage cutting across their indifferent composure as they saw past the gore.

They had a limited number of bullets, but to hell with that, they pulled back the hammer and shot at Hero again, the bullet splitting open their skull and ripping their jaw from them as it passed through the crown of their head.

And damn, if Villain didn’t have Henchman as a priority, they would have shot the bastard again. They would have used all their damn bullets, and then they’d rip Hero’s gun from its holster and shoot until they weren’t even recognizable as human.

They did not deserve the mercy of a quick death that Villain had given them, but it was too late to change that. Villain would come back, they settled, after Henchman was home and healing, and kill every damned person who had ever touched Henchman.

Villain shoved their gun into its holster, quickly stepping over the carnage to the door.

The closer they got to Henchman, the hotter their blood boiled.

They’d kill everyone in the whole fucking agency.

—————————————————

I still only want to hurt Noah. Like seriously, that’s the only thing I want to write rn. Ugh

[hadesstan]

June of Doom Day 19

"I'm not going anywhere"

| Wound Cleaning | Guilt | Chair |

Cw: The tags above, planning murder, implied betrayal and abuse.

I'm gonna do a continuation of Day 13 cause yall liked that as much as I did. No need to read that one though.

...

Sidekick was slumped in the chair in Villain's lair, conscious but weak, as Henchman stitched them up.

"I should never have trusted them," they cursed out Hero, Henchman listening with clenched fists as they rinsed out the cloth and used it to wipe away the blood staining Sidekick's torso.

"I'll kill them. I'll kill them for this."

"Hey, it's not your fault," Sidekick assured them. Henchman dropped the cloth into the bowl of water woth a splash.

"It is. I never should have left you with them."

"It doesn't matter, you can't change it. Just don't leave me now."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," Sidekick smiled weakly and Henchman picked up the cloth again, wiping away the blood and grime that coated Sidekick's arm.

"They're right, Henchman," Villain interjected, standing at the doorway to the room, leaning against the frame. Henchman hadn't heard them enter. "It's my fault. I never should have let Hero go this far. They're my enemy."

"What are you going to do?"

"That's up to Sidekick, actually."

Sidekick raised their head in surprise.

"I'm going to go after Hero, and I'm going to beat them to a bloody pulp. Do you want me to drag them back here for you to take a turn? Or can I kill them where they stand?"

Sidekick thought for a moment, before looking up at Villain with a sneer.

"Kill them, I don't ever want to see their face again."

Villain smiled. "Good."