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avvail-whumps · 9 months

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‘guns for hire’ — square one #27

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content warnings: recapture, failed escape attempt, whumpee referred to as “kid” but they’re an adult, minor character death, gun violence, blood, vomiting, passing out, punishments, manhandling, violence, broken fingers (with a hammer)

Leo tried to use the phone, but his hands had been so weak, and the pain had started swelling in his wrist to the point where it made it eyes water. He sucked in a deep breath, pushing down the nauseating pain in his body as he forced himself to get it together.

He punched 911 into the phone, his breathing shaking as he stared hopefully at the screen. He heard the dreaded sound of the automated message, his heart picking up in disbelief.

“No, no, no, no,” he frantically whispered under his breath, hanging up the call and instantly trying again. It did the same thing, and he bumped his head against the headrest in frustration.

The stranger, Michael, was glancing at him briefly, fingers flexing against the steering wheel.

“I-It’s okay, kid. Here, wait—” He leaned over, eyes flicking to the road occasionally. He pulled out a packet of wet wipes, crinkling softly under his fingers. The car slowed slightly while he was concentrating. He hadn’t been going that fast, since Leo thought he might throw up if they speeded down a bumpy dirt track. “Wipe yourself down with these.”

Leo tugged a wet wipe out with trembling fingers, before pulling down the sun visor. He saw a picture of Michael, smiling with a red headed woman. He felt bad about getting dirt and blood in his car, but it didn’t last long. He began gently smoothing the wipe over his skin, hissing.

Michael sighed heavily. “We’ll call the cops when we get a signal, okay? We’re on our way to a town now, so...so it’s all—”

The car suddenly jerked, throwing Leo forward. He threw his arms out to brace himself against the headboard, a small cry escaping his lips. Michael tugged the steering straight with a small curse.

“What was that?” He cried fearfully.

“I-I don’t know, it just...” The car stayed straight, and Leo’s beating heart calmed down in his chest. He released a shuddering breath, continuing to wipe the grime from his pale face. He moved to his neck, his brows furrowing slightly when he noticed something distinct.

Michael cleared his throat awkwardly. “Car’s just acting up. It’s a bit slow, but...it’s fine. We’re gonna get you back, okay?”

Leo felt his hairs prick on edge. It was a pen line. Starting from his neck and disappearing under his shirt. Hot dread pooled into his stomach. This wasn’t here before. Leo didn’t remember having pen on his skin when he escaped, which meant the only time was—

He frantically lifted up his shirt, watching the line descend down his ribs and link up to little hearts drawn on his stomach. A sob choked in his throat.

When he was unconscious. He must have been out for hours because of that tranquilizer dart, lying haphazardly in the dirt — Roy must have found him. He must have done this, but why did—? Why wasn’t Leo—?

His terrified eyes slid over to Michael.

The man was glancing at him uneasily. “Are you feeling okay, kid?”

But by then it was too late.

Something high impact smacked into the glass behind them, and Michael’s body jerked forward, splayed limply across the steering wheel in a fraction of a second. The car screeched, violently jerking to one side towards the treeline.

Leo barely even bad time to brace himself before it was barreling straight into the trees, sending him flying forward into the headboard with a loud smack. The front of the car crumbled, smoke gathering from under the bent bonnet.

The secretary momentarily lost his breath. Everything began spinning, a horrible, high pitched ringing throbbing in his ears. He could feel fresh blood streaming down the side of his face, squinting away the blurriness in his vision.

God, Leo couldn’t think.

The impact had rocked his skull, wrangling his thoughts into nothing. He sucked in a wheezing breath, eyes flicking swiftly over to Michael.

His stomach churned in nausea.

The man was draped haphazardly over the steering wheel, bloodshot eyes blown wide and back of his head dripping with blood. Leo retched, flinging the door open and smacking onto the ground with a gasped wheeze. A sob caught in his throat as he weakly crawled away from the wreckage, fingers digging into the dirt.

He doubled over, unceremoniously emptying his guts. Tears stung his eyes, bile burning the back of his throat like acid. He tried screwing his eyes shut, begging his mind to rid itself of the horrifying image of Michael’s dead body.

Guilt and shame rose in chest, a horrified sob tearing from his throat. The phone. He needed to get the phone.

His shaking legs curled underneath him, his hands gripping onto the leather seat. He twisted himself back into the car, a gag rising in his throat as he caught a glimpse of the lifeless body in the driver’s seat.

His fingers scrambled for the phone. It was cold against his fingers, flipping it over to make sure it wasn’t broken.

Leo’s body sagged.

The screen was shattered. His thumb shakily jabbed at the button on the side, but it wasn’t turning on. A harrowing sob escaped him. He collapsed against the side of the car, a wave of despair crashing into him all at once. Something inside of him seemed to break, and he found he didn’t have the strength to move anymore.

It felt like any little thing that appeared to help him, an inkling of hope, was crushed mercilessly underneath a sadistic foot. What did he do to deserve this?

Leo spat out a glob of blood from his lip, stuttering on choked breaths. He was going to get his father killed. He killed Michael, and now his father was going to be next.

A pair of legs appeared in front of him.

He blearily looked up, barley able to meet Roy’s cold eyes for more than a few seconds before his head hung limply against his knees. He heard shuffling, Roy slinging his rifle behind his back, before he leaned down to grab Leo’s wrist.

He was jerked onto his feet, knees wobbling under the weight of his own body. He went slack when the man tucked him close to his chest, arm hooking under his knees to lift him bridal style. Leo’s vision swam, his head falling limply against his shoulder with a soft sniffle.

His wheezing breaths stuttered at the warmth seeping into his cold, clammy skin, barely able to muster up anymore strength.

Roy seemed to tag something on the boot of the car, before beginning his journey back down the dirt path, Leo in arms.

He drifted off into uncomfortable unconsciousness minutes in.

. . .

The faint sound of a door clattering open drew Leo from his uncomfortable state of unconsciousness. It was difficult to find the energy to crack his eyelids open, head still limp against Roy’s shoulder and arms tucked under his knees and shoulders. He briefly saw a flash of familiar paintings, before it became somewhat clear in his jumbled mind that he was back at the house.

A slurred groan escaped his lips.

Everything hurt.

Down to each tip of his fingers and toes, he was caked in sweat, blood and grime, soaking uncomfortably into his ripped clothes and battered skin. He could feel his hair twisted and knotted around leaves and little twigs. It was warmer in the house. Leo managed to keep his eyes open long enough to see Roy move past the stairs instead of up them, his brows pinching softly in confusion.

But then he began approaching that sordid set of descending steps past the bathroom instead. His heart elevated rapidly in his chest, stirring slightly in his arms in defiance.

“No, no, no,” he whispered shakily, panic gripping him. “No, no, please.”

Roy descended down the steps to the basement, unbothered. “Be quiet.”

The horrible screeching from the metal lock grated uncomfortably on his ears as it was tugged open, Roy shoving the door with his shoulder. Leo squirmed weakly as a dry sob ached in his sore throat, shaking his head frantically. He hated the basement. He hated it with a passion, and he didn’t think he could spend a single night down here again like last time.

Isn’t this your own fault? His mind hissed venomously. Shouldn’t you have been expecting this?

Roy’s arm uncurled from around his legs, but he barely even had time to place his battered feet on the ground before the mercenary was shoving him forward abruptly. He felt his body slam onto the hard concrete, landing awkwardly on his hip with a pained cry. He tried to gather his shaking limbs in an attempt to crawl away, but he felt like he could barely even move.

Roy slammed the metal door shut with a bang that caused Leo’s skull to throb. He approached the alignment of tools with a hardened expression, before plucking off the hammer without a care. He shrugged off his rifle, setting it down on the table, and then proceeded to strip himself of his jacket and the belt holding an array of thick pouches. They clattered onto the table, before he turned to face him.

“Lie on your stomach, lion,” he ordered, stepping around the chair as he drew closer. Leo felt himself getting hysterical, his mind focused on all the awful things he could do to him with that tool. Tears tracked down his cheeks, frantically shaking his head.

“Roy, please,” he begged, shrinking under his terrifying figure. “P-Please, I’m sorry…”

“Lion,” the man murmured threateningly. “Be quiet.”

Leo didn’t care what he looked like. Shaking, desperate, practically throwing himself at the man. It was painful with his already scraped and bruised knees digging into the rough concrete, but he didn’t care. He wrapped his arms tightly around his leg, pressing his head against his thigh.

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, scrunching his eyes shut. “I’m so sorry, please, please don’t…”

The man made a curt scoffing noise. He lifted his leg up and kicked Leo away, falling onto his backside with a pained bang.

“Don’t touch me,” Roy demanded, but his words were more lilted like a question. He was shaking his head, hammer tight in his hand. “Do you think you deserve that, lion?”

Leo deteriorated into sobs as the man descended on him once more, twisting his arm uncomfortably behind his back and shoving him onto his stomach. Leo knocked his chin against the concrete. Roy tore Michael’s coat off his small frame with an annoyed tut. The mattress was gone. He didn’t know where it was. A crushing pressure settled on top of him as the man dug his knee into his back, leaning forward to grab his free wrist.

He pinned it above his head, palm down with his fingers splayed out. Roy wasn’t pulling any punches. He didn’t even give Leo time to adjust to the horrible pain winding his shoulder blade, before he was bringing the hammer down on his finger with a powerful crack. Leo’s vision sparked white, and a gut wrenching scream tore from his throat. He thrashed under his hold, but the bigger, and much stronger man wasn’t letting up.

The hammer came down on a second finger, and then a third, then the fourth, until Leo was thrown into hysterics, and the agony overwhelmed him. He begged for Roy to stop through his harrowing sobs, but the man didn’t say a word. He soon moved on to do the same to the other hand, on all four fingers. Leo’s vision was spinning with stars by the end of it, each crack of the hammer worse than the last.

Roy stood up, leaving him to curl in on himself pathetically through horrible sobs. He moved over to the table and set the hammer down with a curt sigh. He ran a gloved hand through his messy hair, before the sound of the lock being opened caused Leo to lift his head weakly.

“Wait, Roy, please,” he sobbed, his voice cracking. “Please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Roy raised a brow, throwing a brief glance over his shoulder.

“You know the rules, lion,” he drawled, shaking his head. “You break them, and I punish you.”

He sucked in a ragged, wet breath. “Please don’t leave me,” he whispered fearfully, fingers twitching and trembling as he drew them close into his chest. “Don’t leave me alone, I’m begging you…”

Roy offered him a pitiful smile.

“We have to deal with the mess you made,” he tutted, voice laced with disappointment. “Until then, how about you be a good boy and stay here for a bit until I get back, hm?”

He didn’t give him a chance to reply. The door was being slammed and bolted shut not a second later, leaving him to curl up against the wall miserably.

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