#md 264n

[pigeonwhumps]

Touch-starved

MD-264N masterlist

Febuwhump day 1: touchstarved

@febuwhump

MD-264N wakes up.

1.1k

CWs: self-dehumanisation, fear of death, electric shock mention, conditioned whumpee, caretaker new master

MD-264N blinks itself awake. Its systems are not functioning at optimum efficiency but they're close to it, except for its ankle. There's uncomfortable sensation coming from that. But other than that it's much better than before.

Now. Where is it being stored? It has no restraints for… for some reason, and there's a window, so it isn't back at base. How did it get here?

Can it see the sky now?

One thing at a time. What is it wearing? It's far too light. The control harness and mitts are gone, and its clothes are… unusual. They're thick, soft, bright. The weapon looks at its arm, covered in baggy light blue soft fabric. So much brighter than it's allowed.

But it's not at base, so maybe it's what the people here want. That would make sense, right?

Next. This storage room. It's brighter than any at base, walls coloured light blue and pink. There's a wooden cabinet in the corner, a prosthetic forearm lying on it, and a window above the soft cot that MD-264N's on. That's unusual too. The weapon peers out of it as much as it can without moving, just about able to see a grey sky above.

That's its surroundings taken care of then. They don't make sense, but that's what's there. In that case, who brought it here? The last thing it remembers, it was on the street. Why did someone take it and put it in here? What do they want from it? Its hands are free, the only thing that makes sense is they want to use it, but there's no handlers here. This space is too big for the safe storage of weapons anyway.

MD-264N's throat goes tight. What happens if someone finds it out here? It's not safe. It doesn't know if this is what the people who put it here want but surely they want it to be secured safely.

MD-264N's eyes light on the cabinet, and it climbs off the soft cot it's been placed on and starts making its way towards it.

One foot goes on the floor, but when it tries to put its weight on the other foot, its ankle malfunctions and it collapses to the floor.

It attempts to push itself up as it hears footsteps, arms shaking, but it can't move. Aberrant moisture leaks out of the corners of its eyes. These people won't want a faulty weapon. They'll decommission it and then it'll never see the sky again.

The footsteps are very close now. MD-264N tries to kneel instead, desperate to be good enough to see the sky again.

"Hey, sweetheart, what are you doing on the floor? You're supposed to be resting." The voice is soft beside it, and the weapon's not sure who they're talking to. It sounds like they're talking to it but… you don't talk like that to weapons. Gentle, like it's a person. But there's no-one here. "Sit back on the bed, come on. Can you do that for me?"

MD-264N tries, it really does, but it can't move its leg. "This weapon is malfunctioning, sir, it– please." Please, please don't have it decommissioned, not yet.

"Okay. It's okay, sweetheart, I'll help you. I'm going to have to touch you, is that alright?"

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you." The speaker wraps an arm around it and helps it sit down on the cot. The arm is warm and the hand ungloved, and the weapon finds itself leaning into their touch. It stiffens. No, no that's bad, weapons don't need touch. "Hey, you don't need to move away. I bet you're touch-starved, huh?" MD-264N doesn't answer. It doesn't know how. "You don't need to… y'know, act all subservient. You can look at me. And you don't have to address me as sir, Rhian will do. Since it's my name. Do you have one?"

"This weapon has been designated MD-264N," answers the weapon automatically, "designed and programmed for urban use by the Ministry of Defence. Its capabilities are–"

"That's your designation, sweetheart, not your name. I guess that means you don't have one then. Would it be alright if I give you one?"

Why are they asking all these questions? Surely they know it can't refuse anyway.

"Yes, s– Rhian."

"Great! So I was thinking of Morgan, if you like it?"

"Yes, Rhian."

"That's good. You can look at me, sweetheart, you don't have to look at the floor. Why won't you look up?"

MD-264N (no, Morgan, it'd better start using the name its new commander wants) shivers. "This weapon is malfunctioning."

"What do you mean?"

Morgan swallows, preparing to give the information that might get it decommissioned. "Its left ankle is not functioning, and there is aberrant moisture leaking from its eyes. And it keeps having aberrant thoughts."

There's a short pause. "So… you're in pain, you're crying and you're probably scared? You're in a strange place with people you've never met, after being shot in the ankle, I'd be surprised if something wasn't wrong, frankly. I'll get Asha to bring you some more painkillers. It's okay to feel like this, sweetheart, it doesn't mean you can't look at me, or that I don't want to see you. Please, Morgan?"

Morgan can't refuse that, and it raises its head, not making eye contact but looking all the same. Rhian's hair is white dipped in red, and they smile at the weapon, mouth dimpling at the corners.

"There you are. Nice to meet you."

They're so soft, their hand warm on its arm, saying things that don't make sense, not for a weapon, but they're so nice. More moisture leaks from the weapon's eyes at the gentleness. Nobody's ever been this gentle with it.

"Hey, it's okay. Do you want a hug?"

A hug? But it– it's never, no-one's ever– it's just a weapon, why would anyone offer? Morgan nods anyway, and Rhian wraps their arm around it, holding it tight and warm. They don't seem bothered about touching it, like its handlers are, and their fingers almost burn through the fabric of the hoodie. It doesn't remember the last time anyone touched it without gloves.

Its eyes leak even more and it finds itself making sounds along with that, sounds that it would surely be shocked for with anyone else. But Rhian just shushes it gently, and it can't help leaning into their touch.

Of all the people it's met, Rhian is by far the most patient, and it can't help the aberrant and likely futile hope that the gentleness lasts.

[pigeonwrites]

Hi!

Look at me actually setting up a writeblr blog! And it's not even been a year since I set up the placeholder...

I'm Ruth, 25, they/them. I tend to write mostly fantasy, sci-fi and whump. I wish I was better at naming (both my WIPs and a penname). Outside of writing, I like HEMA (hmu if you want sword advice), arting (yes that is now a word), and playing ttrpgs. I am also working towards a library science degree.

Main blog @paintedpigeon1 (pinned fanfic masterlist there)

Whump sideblog @pigeonwhumps

AO3 @/paintedpigeon

↓ WIPs below the cut (working titles) ↓

Futuristic Cinderella retelling

Cinderella in space! Well, on a space station, technically, because no-one actually lives in space. Featuring a technician Cinderella character with a malfunctioning medical implant, a lovestruck princess with her aroace QPP, a trans fairy godfather, and, well, basically a very queer cast.

Genres: sci-fi, fairy tale, romance

Tag: cinderella au

Doppelganger

Kiran's partner has been found after a few days lost in the woods and is acting oddly. They head to a nearby witch to find out why, and then a bigger adventure awaits them. Featuring adventure, magic, grief, a qpr, found family, a revenge quest, and a malevolent shapeshifter.

Genres: medieval fantasy, adventure, queer relationships

Tag: doppelganger

MD-264N (version 2)

MD-264N, the government's best living weapon, runs to see the sky once more before being decommissioned and ends up collapsing on the doorstep of a rag-tag group of rebels. The rebels, wary at first, soon discover they'll do anything to keep the weapon (now known as Morgan) safe and able to recover, but with the best of the Ministry of Defence's technology inside of them and the continued attempts by the group to undermine said ministry, it's not as easy as it looks. And when a second rescue attempt goes horribly wrong, there aren't many options left.

Genres: sci-fi, whump, dystopia

Tag: md-264n

[dustypinetree-reblogs]

My Masterlist of Favourite Works, so I can reread them whenever~

——————————————————

• Pet Whump:

1: WRU: Pet 205-843 (No official title) — 29 Chapters &C (Ryan/843/Pet/Joey - Human Pet, Pet Whumpee, BoxBoy Universe, WRU, Extreme Conditioning, Dehumanisation, Institutionalised Slavery, Physical Whump, Medical Whump, Compliance, Sir/Master/Handler, Reluctant Caretaker, Regression)

Written by @highwaywhump

-

-

-

2: Unintentional — 25 Chapters &C (Whumpee = Aiden/839, Clueless Caretaker = Leo - Human Pet, Pet Whumpee, BoxBoy Universe, WRU, Trauma, Recovery, Experimentation, Drugging, Dehumanisation, Institutionalised Slavery, Medical Whump, Conditioning)

Written by @distinctlywhumpthing

——————————————————

• Captive Whump:

1: In The Woods Somewhere — 36 chapters (Whumpee = Buck, Whumper = Fletcher - Held Captive, Torture, Physical Whump, Mental Whump, Violence, Stockholm Syndrome, Training Camp, Whumper Turned Caretaker)

Written by @knivestothroats

-

-

-

2) Behave — xx Chapters (Medical Whump, Hospital Whump, Drugging, Experimentation, Whumper Turned Caretaker)

Written by @jordanstrophe

-

-

-

3) The Basement Whumper — xx Chapters (Torture Whump, Sadistic Whumper, Violent Whump, Captive Whump)

Written by @jordanstrophe

-

-

-

——————————————————

• Uncategorised:

1: MD-264N — 13 Chapters &C (Living Weapon, Dehumanisation, Conditioning, Whumpee Escape, Caretaker)

Written by @pigeonwhumps

-

-

-

2: A White Rose — xx Chapters (Non-Human, Kidnapped, Put On Display, Physical Whump, Loss)

Written by @itsleighlove

-

-

-

[den-of-whump]

💡📖

-- @whumperofworlds

Hi!

💡A creative whump idea you're proud of

Idk I don't create a lot for whump

📖 A favorite whump story you've written (or someone else's if you've never written anything)

I haven't really written anything yet sooooooooo @pigeonwhumps 's MD-264N series! It was why I started following em and I think it was my introduction to the living weapon trope

[pigeonwhumps]

MD-264N masterlist

When MD-264N, the government's best weapon, runs to avoid being decommissioned and collapses on the doorstep of a small ragtag team of rebels, it's a surprise to everyone. But despite resistance, the weapon, now known as Morgan, starts to find their place, and the rebels soon find that they'll do anything to keep them free.

Contains: living weapon, found family, dehumanisation/self dehumanisation, team dynamics, reluctant caretaker (not the main caretaker), recovery whump, caretaker whump, disabled caretaker (forearm amputee)

Works:

Collapse

Shot

Touch-starved

Flinching

Non-consensual body modification

Disproportionate retribution

Knife to the throat

"That's gonna scar"

Secrets revealed

Made to watch

Soft words

Difficulty breathing

Fever

Found footage

Break

Forced to hurt a loved one

Inferno

Self-sacrifice

Caged

Semi-conscious

Silent tears

"You deserve this"

Can't stay awake

Knife wound

Shackled

Can't scream

Experimentation

"You'll have to go through me"

Bloody clothes

Limp

Natural disaster

Survivor's guilt

"You're safe now"

Epilogue

Extras:

Character picrews

More picrews

Taglist: @wolfeyedwitch @den-of-evil @dustypinetree @cardboardarsonist @skittles-the-whumpee @whatwhumpcomments

[pigeonwhumps]

Flinching

MD-264N masterlist

Febuwhump day 2: flinching

@febuwhump

Asim tries to introduce himself to Morgan. It doesn't go too well.

1.1k

CWs: self-dehumanisation, expecting to be punished, wanting to be punished, caretaker new whumper, bad caretaker (for a bit), conditioned whumpee

Morgan's looking out of the window when the new person enters.

It's been a strange few days. Rhian is nothing like its old handlers. Her gentleness hasn't left yet, and for some reason she expects it to share her bed. She seems happy with the arrangement, and Morgan doesn't understand why she'd be so willing to be close to it, to let it touch her, when she could just as easily store it elsewhere, but it's… a very acceptable situation.

When the door creaks open, Morgan scrambles away from the window and sits on the edge of the bed, back straight, arms behind its back, gaze on the floor. Exactly how a weapon should sit, subservient, ready to be taken out and used if the person entering wishes, dangerous hands safely out of the way. It's the best it can do with no safety restraints.

It's not Rhian's footsteps, or Asha's even. Morgan has no idea who it is. Its throat tightens. Is it to be used now?

The footsteps pause, before continuing, coming to a halt in front of Morgan.

"Er. Hi. I'm Asim. I haven't met you before, but Asha's ill so I'm going to change your bandage instead."

Morgan flinches back as Asim's hand reaches for its ankle, jerking its leg out of reach. It's not safe and it's a surprise and Rhian says it's allowed to move. It pulls its leg up to its chest, trembling.

"I'm trying to help you, Morgan," says Asim, sounding annoyed, and Morgan freezes. What if Morgan's only allowed to move around Rhian? Is it going to be corrected for this? It will be, it knows it, it's heard that tone of voice before.

The weapon doesn't know how correction works here. It doesn't have a control harness, so there must be some other method.

"You don't need to be so scared, I'm not going to hurt you." Morgan doesn't move. It knows that. It's a weapon, it can't be hurt, it's just going to be corrected. Asim sighs. "Look, I'm going to fetch Rhian. You just… stay here, yeah? I'll be right back."

Asim leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

Is Rhian going to correct it then? She must be, and for some reason Morgan feels a pang in its chest, its heart-rate increasing. It's malfunctioning again. If it's going to be corrected, it's not safe out here. It drops off the bed and crawls over to the cabinet, climbing inside. With the door shut behind it it's safer. It feels safer, even if that feeling is an aberration and not something it should care about. Even without a lock it's… better. Its heart rate is decreasing.

There's voices outside, and Morgan strains itself to hear, curled up in a tight ball. Its hearing isn't as accurate as it was, although it hasn't been obedient enough to bring that up to Rhian yet, but it can still hear Rhian and Asim open the door.

"... like I did you. And they just… where are they?"

"They're safe. I can guess where they are. But Asim, you can't treat us both the same. I might've been imprisoned for seven years but I knew you were on my side when I arrived. I was confident enough to ask things, even if it took a while to come out. Morgan… they don't know they're safe. They still think we want to use them, Asim, it's what they've been trained for. You can't just expect them to trust you."

"They thought I'd hurt them?"

"They wouldn't call it that, but yeah. Let me calm them down and then you can say hello."

"I'll leave them to you then. Let me know when they're ready."

"Yep."

The door shuts, and footsteps approach the cabinet. Morgan flinches hard when there's a knock on the door, hitting its head hard against the wooden ceiling.

"Hey Morgan. It's just Rhian here. You're not in trouble, but when you're ready to come out I have some food for you. I'll wait on the bed."

Rhian walks away, and Morgan takes a deep breath, then another. It pushes the door open before it can inconvenience people for any longer.

Rhian smiles at it. "Hey there sweetheart. Can I check your head when you get over here? That was a nasty bang."

Morgan nods before crawling across to the bed. Rhian makes a face but doesn't help, and that's a more than acceptable state of affairs. It has to do something on its own or it's entirely useless. It bends its head to allow Rhian to see.

"It doesn't look too bad. Bet it hurts like hell though."

"Weapons don't feel pain," replies Morgan automatically. Rhian raises an eyebrow, and it adds hurriedly, "It is an uncomfortable sensation though." In multiple places, actually, its ankle too, but it isn't going to mention that.

"I'm going to give you some painkillers then. It's about time for your next dose. And then you can eat."

Morgan swallows the pills and looks at the plate Rhian's holding, trying to disguise its eagerness. The sandwich smells so nice, and the nutrition – food – here actually has taste and texture. It rests the plate on its lap as it eats, just like Rhian does. She chuckles lightly.

"I knew you had a sweet tooth. Luckily we had some jam left." She pauses. "Asim's not the most tactful, but he really was just going to change your bandages and say hello. It's okay that you were scared, but you don't need to be. He's not going to… correct you or whatever it is you call it."

"Weapons don't feel emotions," whispers Morgan. Weapons don't feel. It can't forget that.

"It's only human to feel, there's nothing wrong with it."

"But it's not human, it's only a weapon, it's against this weapon's programming to feel." The weapon's malfunctioning again, it's arguing with its handler, but it can't seem to help it, she doesn't know much about weapons. It almost wishes it could be corrected, to be rid of these aberrations that just keep getting worse.

"Oh, sweetheart. You're so very human. I'm just not sure how to convince you of that."

They pull Morgan into a warm hug before it can protest again. Morgan buries itself in them. They might have some strange ideas about weapons but they really are very warm.

[pigeonwhumps]

Knife to the throat

MD-264N masterlist

Febuwhump day 4: knife to the throat

@febuwhump

Note: For avoidance of confusion over pronouns, Blue is genderfluid, and is using he/him pronouns in this piece. This takes place a couple of weeks after Flinching.

Blue accidentally triggers Morgan's conditioning, with Rhian as the target.

771 words

CWs: dehumanisation, self-dehumanisation, conditioned whumpee, living weapon whumpee, held at knifepoint, bad caretaker (one of them), caretaker new whumper, gun

"Morgan, put the knife down," says Rhian softly, hand in the air, trying to avoid cutting their throat on the sharp knife held against it.

She silently curses Blue. She and Morgan had been talking, and then Blue had barged in, not even looking at Morgan, and said something to Rhian. Rhian's not sure what it was now, it's not important, but some part of it triggered Morgan.

And now Rhian has a knife at their throat and Blue, the idiot, is pointing his gun at Morgan. As if any of this is Morgan's fault.

"Blue, put the gun down, please."

"Not while the weapon's an active threat."

Rhian closes her eyes, praying for patience. "Morgan. Please, put the weapon down. It's only Rhian, I'm not going to hurt you."

Morgan's arm trembles slightly but it doesn't waver, their gaze blank. They've entirely been taken over by their conditioning.

Rhian hears the click of Blue's gun. "For the love of god, Blue, don't you fucking dare shoot them."

"It's a tranquilliser. And I won't let you get knifed in the throat."

Well, at least Morgan won't die if he shoots. She decides to try a different method.

"Sweetheart. It's Rhian. There's no danger, nothing to attack. I don't want you to attack. Let go, sweetheart." Morgan trembles harder, tears welling. Clearly, no-one's tested their conditioning by being kind before. But it's not working enough. Rhian swallows. There must be a phrase to stop it. What would they say in the military? What did the guards used to say, in the mandatory exercise yard at the re-education centre, during their escape, every time they wanted something to stop?

Stand down. Stand down, student 7583, or I'll shoot. Shoot to kill, no prisoners.

Rhian breathes out shakily and hardens her tone, imitating the guards easily after all the practice she's had.

"Stand down. Morgan, stand down." That doesn't work. She grimaces. "MD-264N, stand down."

Morgan drops the knife immediately, hand swinging down, and Rhian steps forward, shielding them from Blue. "I'm going to touch you, Morgan, don't panic." She takes another step forward, and once Morgan's within arm's reach she reaches out, pulling them into a tight hug. "Come back to me, sweetheart, come on. You're Morgan, remember?" Morgan shudders. "That's it. You're doing it. Come on, sweetheart, I've got you. You're doing so well."

Morgan gasps, clutching Rhian's upper arms tightly as their knees start to buckle. "This weapon is– it is–"

"Breathe, sweetheart. Just breathe."

Morgan takes a deep breath, copying Rhian. "This weapon is malfunctioning. Its eyes are leaking and its heart rate is still increasing and–"

"Shh. It's okay, sweetheart, it's okay. That's okay, I'm not mad, not gonna correct you. Just breathe, concentrate on calming down. Blue messed up, you did nothing wrong, it's okay. It's okay to cry, sweetheart. You're not leaking, you're crying, and that's okay."

Morgan looks helplessly at Rhian for a second and then throws themself forward, burying their head in her chest, shaking with sobs. Rhian's breath catches at the look in their eyes, the speed at which they threw themself at her for comfort.

"Hey sweetheart."

"I, it is sorry, it apologises, this weapon injured you and it is displaying aberrant behaviour, it is so sorry, it–"

"Shh, you're okay. The cut doesn't hurt anymore, it's not even bleeding. Cry all you like, let it out. Yeah? You're okay, you're safe."

They clutch Morgan tightly, hearing Blue's footsteps finally fade down the corridor. Morgan's so distressed, Blue was so quick to act that Rhian suspects he's nowhere near trusting them yet, and Rhian herself is still shaken. It's the first time they've really appreciated that their friend was an actual weapon, the first time since Morgan woke that they've thought that way about them. If someone ordered Morgan to, even by accident, they could do a hell of a lot of damage.

Rhian doesn't believe they ever would of their own free will. They were wavering even with the conditioning today. But still. It's a hell of a lot of training (torture) to put someone through, to make them react like that to a few words. She didn't realise it was so thorough. She didn't realise they were so dangerous. Calling themself I, if only for a moment, was progress, but they're still conditioned, still so easy to trigger.

Still so damn small, as well.

And now that same person is soaking her t-shirt with sobs, clutching her like she'll disappear if they don't.

"You're gonna be okay, sweetheart. You're going to be okay."

They can only hope that it's true.

[pigeonwhumps]

Forced to hurt a loved one

MD-264N masterlist

Febuwhump day 13: forced to hurt a loved one

Taglist: @wolfeyedwitch @den-of-evil @dustypinetree @cardboardarsonist @skittles-the-whumpee

Morgan's conditioning is triggered again, for more nefarious purposes, and Director Jodie Armstrong makes a breakthrough.

1.3k

CWs: conditioned whumpee, living weapon whump, forced to hurt, burns, dehumanisation, self dehumanisation

Morgan lies on the floor in the front room, legs up against Rhian's armchair, colouring. This is the most comfortable position, and even though weapons shouldn't take up so much space, Rhian says it's acceptable to sit here.

Asha hops over Morgan's legs to join Asim and Blue on the sofa, and the weapon cranes its neck all the way back to look up at her. She peers at the colouring book.

"Nice owl. You're doing the same colours as your Archimedes?"

Morgan nods. Technically this is a Sword in the Stone colouring book and so maybe it should colour the pictures the same as the film, but both Asha and Rhian have said that it doesn't need to be accurate, and this is the first time in its memory that that's been allowed. Despite seeing the video, it still can't remember any solid memories of its childhood before the government.

It is allowed, right?

Asha grins. "I like it. Hey, Asim, you can start the whales now."

Rhian squeezes its ankle reassuringly as the DVD starts, and it relaxes. Yes, it's allowed.

This is Asha's favourite whale documentary, and Morgan's seen it several times before, so it doesn't pay as close attention as it might otherwise, focusing on its colouring. It's okay, that's allowed here, the video isn't training or a briefing or anything that it's expected to memorise in its entirety. It's just entertainment.

Suddenly, a loud siren-like sound emits from the TV and Morgan jumps, looking up. Blue curses.

Asim frowns. "We didn't hear anything about this."

The screen switches to a news channel, and Morgan straightens up immediately, dropping its pencil and sliding onto its knees, hands behind its back.

"Morgan?"

Morgan doesn't respond, doesn't look round. It can't. That's the Director on-screen, and its full attention must be focused on her at all times.

"This is an emergency announcement. All citizens within the immediate area of Base 47 are requested to stay in their homes until further notice. Please be alert, but do not be alarmed, there is no danger to civilians if you do as requested. We are searching for the stolen government property MD-264N and the traitors hiding it. The crisis will be resolved swiftly and the traitors taken into permanent custody."

MD-264N, whose mind went blank when the Director spoke its designation, doesn't hear anything beyond that point. It has its orders, to take the traitors into permanent custody, and it stands, swiftly identifying the leader. It picks up the nearest makeshift weapon it can identify, an electric iron that swiftly heats in its hands.

Then it strides forward and pushes the rebel leader to the ground. It's not hard, he's clearly not really expecting it, and it presses the iron into the top of his shoulders. It tunes out his ear-splitting screams from years of practice, pressing it down, its free hand holding him down to stop him bucking away.

Someone wrenches it off its target and throws it to the side, kneeling on its back to cuff its hands as it struggles. No, no, it hasn't completed its task yet, it can't be captured.

It's sat up against the wall forcefully, still struggling, and someone crouches down in front of it.

"Sweetheart, you're crying," she says gently.

"Weapons don't cry," refutes MD-264N.

"Yes. You do. Morgan, do you remember who I am? Think, sweetheart, it's okay. Come back to me."

The person touches it gently on the shoulder and pulls it into a careful hug, one its commanders have never given it before. It feels so warm, so cared for, so–

A soft and rough owl-shaped toy is pushed into its hands.

Its mind rushes back and it gasps. Morgan. It's Morgan. That's Rhian. This is Archimedes. And– and–

"Asim. This weapon hurt him. Is he okay? It– it didn't want to, it's sorry, it's sorry, it–"

"Shh. It wasn't your fault, that was Armstrong forcing you. Asha's with him now, he'll be okay, I'm sure. Do you want to go back to your room?"

Morgan nods vigorously. "Please."

"Okay. Let me help you up, sweetheart. Blue's going to escort us."

"This weapon's ankle is malfunctioning. It, it doesn't think it can walk there."

"I'll help you."

Rhian puts her arm under Morgan's shoulders and starts helping it towards their bedroom, Blue following close behind. He shuts the door, standing guard outside, and Rhian tries to help Morgan into the bed.

Morgan stops dead in its tracks, forcing Rhian to pause, frowning at it.

"Sweetheart?"

"This weapon is dangerous. It should not be out in the open where it can hurt people."

"We broke through your conditioning, faster than last time. You're not going to hurt me."

"But it, it, I, it might. Something could set it off again. It doesn't want to risk it. Please, Rhian, it should go in the cupboard, where it can't harm anyone."

Rhian bites her lip. "It won't be comfortable."

"Weapons do not need comfort. It is a more usual place to be stored than a bed anyway, it will stay in good condition."

She sighs. "Okay. Okay. Can I uncuff you?" Morgan shakes its head. It should stay disarmed, it's not safe. "At least let me refasten them in front of you." The weapon pauses, uncertain, and then nods. Its hands will still be cuffed, after all.

Rhian uncuffs it, massaging its shoulders as she moves its arms in front of it, making sure that the sleeves of its hoodie are cushioning the cuffs.

"Is that comfortable? I know you said that doesn't matter but it does to me."

Morgan nods. "Thank you, Rhian."

"No problem. Let me sort out the cupboard. I wish you'd consent to staying somewhere more comfortable, sweetheart."

"The cupboard is already more than this weapon needs or deserves," replies Morgan readily. "This weapon's top priority is your safety and the cupboard will allow it to fulfil that objective best."

"Okay. Okay."

Rhian doesn't look happy as they line the cupboard with spare blankets and pillows, and Morgan doesn't understand. It's fulfilling one of its basic functions, to keep people safe, surely they should be pleased?

"Alright. I'll give you a duvet, torch, and a bottle of squash once you're in, we have all of them in this room. Can I give you another hug first?"

"Yes, Rhian."

They pull them into a tight, warm hug that Morgan wishes it could stay in forever.

"You're sure about this, sweetheart?" Morgan nods. "Okay."

Too soon, Rhian lets go, and Morgan climbs inside the little cupboard. Rhian passes it a duvet, a bottle of squash, and a torch.

"Come out when you're ready, yeah? I hope it's soon."

"Yes, Rhian." It might not be soon, it needs to stay in here until everyone's safe, but it will come out.

Rhian shuts the door behind it, and it's in darkness, alone. It buries its head in its knees, Archimedes held close to its chest, and tries to stifle its muffled sobs.

It didn't want to hurt anyone. It never does. But somehow, it always has to anyway.

_

A few miles away, Director Jodie Armstrong smiles at the blinking light on her computer screen. It worked. It actually worked. Maybe the scientists deserve a bonus for this.

It'll be a few days before anything's settled enough to come online properly, but that's okay. She can wait. She's waited months, after all.

And then, once MD-264N's back, they'll see what needs to be done about it. Whether it can be re-trained, used for experiments, or just needs decommissioning. It all depends on what's been done to it in its absence, because wherever it is, she's sure it hasn't been treated appropriately.

She presses a finger to her ear.

"Contact Colonel Colgrave of Section 13. Tell him that the verbal activation of the implants worked. We'll have MD-264N back in a matter of days, along with all the information we require. There's no need for him to interfere again."

[pigeonwhumps]

"That's gonna scar"

MD-264N masterlist

Febuwhump day 5: "that's gonna scar"

Asha sews up Morgan's gunshot wound when it refuses to close.

1.3k

CWs: self-dehumanisation, stitches, implied past non-con drugging, mentioned brainwashing, mentioned expectations of death, conditioned whumpee, living weapon

"Are you sure you don't want any stronger painkillers?" asks Asha, concerned. All Morgan's consented to taking are a couple of paracetamols, and while Asha can understand why after seeing the track marks on their arms, she's spoken to Rhian and she's not sure it's going to be enough today. She's not sure it's enough normally, honestly, but Morgan's gunshot wound isn't healing properly after the packing and now it needs stitches. Which means far more intense pain.

"No, thank you, sir. Asha."

Asha exchanges a glance with Rhian. A bit of a setback, but that's to be expected after yesterday. At least they're using her name as well.

"If you're sure. This is going to be painful, so let me know if you change your mind and need me to stop at any point, alright?"

"Yes, Asha."

"Good."

"You can squeeze my hand as much as you like," says Rhian softly, resting her hand in Morgan's. They wrap their fingers gently around it.

"Morgan, can you lift your leg so your ankle's on the pillow here? It's covered in a towel, even if we make a mess it'll be fine. I need your ankle slightly elevated and for me to be able to get to it easily." Morgan swings their leg up on the bed and turns slightly, leaning against Rhian, back to her chest. "That's it. I'm going to start now, you don't have to watch."

"Concentrate on your breathing," says Rhian, as Asha unwraps the bandage around the wound and winces. "Nice and deep and even, copy me."

Morgan does their best as Asha cleans the area around the wound before picking up her needle and thread. This is going to be the painful part. Her patient squeezes their eyes shut at the sight of the needle touching skin.

Asha pushes through the skin with only a little resistance and Morgan whimpers. They bite their lip, clutching Rhian's hand tight, letting out pained cries as Asha pulls the thread through.

Rhian starts humming.

It's a low tune, a soft lullaby that Asha recognises as one of Rhian's self-soothing techniques from when they first joined. It seems to be working wonders on Morgan too, their eyes drifting shut. After a couple of verses they join in hesitantly, the humming replacing their sounds of pain. Their breaths are still hitching, their face is white, but they're a little better.

Asha smiles slightly to herself as she stitches up the wound. They're perfect for each other. Rhian's doing much better with someone to care for, and Morgan's recovery is going better than Asha could ever have predicted.

"Alright, I'm all done with the stitching. This'll probably scar but at least it has a better chance of healing now." Morgan snaps their eyes open and watches intently as Asha wraps a bandage over the top of the stitches. "That should keep it clean and stop you catching the stitches on stuff."

"Thank you, sir. Asha."

"No problem. You were very brave. Would you like a fruit pastille?"

Morgan's eyes light up and they nod. Asha grins. Rhian was right, they really do have a sweet tooth. She holds out the jar. "Here. Take a couple."

"Thank you."

Once Morgan's chewing on a sweet, Asha says carefully, "How are you both? You look exhausted."

Morgan glances back at Rhian, who nods, squeezing their hand. "This weapon malfunctioned last night. It, I, I had a nightmare. And it disturbed Rhian and it is so sorry."

"I told you, it's fine, sweetheart," murmurs Rhian, before turning to Asha. "It was worse than they've had in over a week. We barely slept at all."

"Hey. You'll get better, Morgan. Maybe not all the way, but recovery's never linear. Rhian can tell you that."

Rhian nods. "Definitely."

"If you're okay on your own for a moment, I need to speak to Rhian quickly."

Morgan nods, and Rhian slides out from under them, following Asha across the room. Her voice is hushed.

"What is it?"

"It wasn't just Morgan's nightmare last night, was it? You look too distressed for that."

Rhian sighs and shakes their head, raking their hand through their hair. "I had a nightmare too, but that's normal. Nothing unusual about it. Been having them for years. But Morgan… they said that they didn't understand why we wanted a malfunctioning weapon. They asked why we hadn't decommissioned them yet. I mean, what do I say to that?"

Asha feels queasy. Morgan's barely grown and already they're expecting to die for being emotional and hurt.

"Reassure them we care, for as long as they need. And hopefully they'll understand our intentions eventually."

"Right. Hopefully. And maybe they'll consider themself a person eventually, too. Is that all you wanted to ask about?"

"Yeah. We can go back over now. I have their present with me too."

Rhian grins. "You finished it!"

"Of course I did."

They head back over, Rhian pulling Morgan gently against her under the window as Asha packs away her equipment. She can just hear Rhian whispering soothingly to Morgan, very obviously trying to contain her excitement. Asha pulls a lumpy package wrapped in scrap paper and string out of her bag, and hands it to Morgan. They frown down at it.

"It's a present for you. I meant to finish it a while ago but I got ill and then I was busy, but here you are."

Morgan blinks. "For me?"

"Yeah. Nothing bad, I promise. Go ahead and open it."

Morgan examines it for a full minute, Rhian almost bouncing behind them, before pulling at one end of the string, undoing the bow. The paper falls with the string, revealing a toy owl made out of scraps of fabric. It's not amazing, the wings are uneven and so are the button eyes, and the fabric's a bit of a mish-mash of anything she and Rhian could find regardless of the colour or texture, but Morgan picks it up delicately, like it's a treasure. They look a little bewildered.

"Morgan? What's wrong?"

They swallow, looking up at her. "What's the purpose of this gift? If it should be obvious this weapon apologises, but it does not understand."

"It's just a present, sweetheart," says Rhian. "It doesn't have a purpose. Though I guess if you need one, we can say it's to help you recover. You can cuddle it and it'll hopefully make you feel better. And the different textures are a great sensory thing. I have a similar one, you've seen it."

"It is only a weapon, it is not worthy of such a present. But it is very grateful."

Asha smiles, noticing that Morgan's already clutching the owl close to their chest. "Do you want to name it?"

"Archimedes," they say after a pause. "If that's acceptable."

"Archimedes," repeats Rhian thoughtfully. "Good name."

As Morgan sinks further into Rhian, eyes full of badly-hidden relief, Asha wonders if they ever watched The Sword in the Stone before they were brainwashed by the government. Maybe it was their favourite film. Maybe it was a sibling's favourite. Did they watch it over and over again? Did they learn the songs, did they annoy their family with them? Did they get annoyed by them?

Asha doesn't know. None of them do.

Until now, it hadn't occurred to her just how much they don't know about the newest member of their family. They don't know how old Morgan was when they were taken, where they lived, who they loved and were loved by in return (because surely, surely someone cared). They don't even know what their name was. Blue's working on hacking the retrieved memory card that may well have helped Morgan escape, but until then…

Just who do they have in their care?

[pigeonwhumps]

Soft words

MD-264N masterlist

@febuwhump alt 3: soft words

Taglist: @wolfeyedwitch

Rhian persuades Morgan to join the rest of the team downstairs.

762 words

CWs: self dehumanisation

"It is really acceptable for this weapon to go downstairs with you?" asks Morgan, worrying at Archimedes' rough fabric.

"Yeah. We want to spend time with you. Especially me. But I'm not forcing you to if you don't want to come."

"I do, Rhian. I, it was just making sure."

"Okay. Come on then. You want to hold my hand?"

Morgan swallows and slips its hand into Rhian's, accompanying her downstairs. The talk in the room dies away abruptly as they enter.

The room looks… comfortable, Morgan supposes, with mismatched saggy old seats arranged around a coffee table, TV in the corner. Net curtains are drawn, giving them privacy, but it's still nice and light.

Asha grins and waves from the sofa. Morgan waves back shyly.

"Hey there you two," says Asim with a small smile. "Good to see you again, Morgan. Blue's microwaving popcorn. Sit wherever you like."

Rhian sits on the armchair, but Morgan hesitates. It doesn't know where it should go. All this comfort is meant for people, not weapons, but it's clearly being allowed it so… what should it do?

Rhian pats their lap. "Come on, sweetheart, you can sit with me if you like."

Morgan wants to, but it hesitates. It's been here several weeks now, but it's still almost unbelievable that anyone would be willing to allow it so close. Does its handler… no, its friend, that's what she says, its friend, and that doesn't make sense, weapons don't have friends, that's only for people… but Rhian's its friend, she wants to be its friend. It's never had a friend before. Is she really willing to let it so close? To let it touch her so much, in front of other people?

She beckons it closer. "It's okay, sweetheart, you're okay. Come on over, if you like, that's it."

Morgan nods and climbs hesitantly onto Rhian's lap. When there's no objection, it curls up against her chest, watching the rest of the room carefully. Asha just smiles, and Asim gives it an approving nod.

It swallows. It hasn't got Blue's reaction yet.

Rhian rubs its arm, speaking softly. She always speaks so softly to it, like it's something worth caring about. It makes it feel warm. "Hey, it's okay. That's it, sweetheart, you're good."

"We're going to watch The Sword in the Stone, if you're okay with that?" says Asim. Morgan nods. It doesn't know what that is exactly, but it nudges its brain with warm familiarity and anyway, weapons don't make decisions. Especially not for people. "Great. I'll go ahead and set it up."

Just then, Blue enters and Morgan tenses. It still remembers what they said to Rhian, in the conversation it wasn't supposed to hear. What if they think it's too dangerous for it to be here? Rhian squeezes its shoulder.

"Er. Hello, Rhian, Morgan. Popcorn! Rhian, I made you and Morgan sweet popcorn to share, and the rest of us have mixed."

Morgan takes the bowl, and Rhian shifts so she's able to reach the food. "Cheers. How'd you guess the seating arrangements?"

Blue shrugs, handing the bigger bowl over to Asim and sinking down onto the end of the sofa. "You always take the armchair so you don't feel boxed in, and Morgan wasn't going to sit with anyone else."

That's not entirely accurate, the weapon would have been willing to sit with Asha, but it doesn't correct Blue. "Thank you."

Blue smiles tightly. "You're welcome."

Rhian squeezes Morgan as the opening credits play out on screen.

"It's nice to have you down here with us."

Morgan snuggles into Rhian. She's so warm, and she's so willing to let it close, to touch it with bare hands. To hug it. And no-one is objecting. There's no looks of disgust. The weapon knows that if any of its handlers at its old base had touched it like this, so gently, just to comfort it, they would've been severely reprimanded. The weapon wraps itself around Rhian as best it can, careful not to drop the popcorn, and she doesn't even flinch, just resting her arm on it, a comforting weight. It can hardly believe it gets to stay here, warm and comfortable, and just be. Weapons aren't permitted that, but… but it is here. It's so nice, it could almost cry. It swallows past the lump in its throat.

"This weapon is... happy it joined you," replies Morgan softly. And it is, it thinks. Weapons aren't supposed to have emotions, it's not sure what it's feeling, but it thinks this might be happiness.

[pigeonwhumps]

Break

MD-264N masterlist

Taglist: @wolfeyedwitch @den-of-evil @dustypinetree @cardboardarsonist

Asim persuades Blue to take a break from examining information about Morgan.

980 words

CWs: self-dehumanisation, living weapon, recovery whump, overworking, trauma

Asim knocks on the door of the workroom and enters, watching Blue frown into his computer, making a little note. He hasn't noticed him entering at all.

"Blue."

Blue jumps and pulls off his headphones, spinning around. He deflates at the sight of Asim.

"Oh. It's you."

"Expecting someone else?"

"I thought Rhian would've come to shout at me by now. For upsetting Morgan. Are they still going by Morgan?"

Asim sighs. "She knows it was their choice, she's not angry. And yes, they are, as you'd know if you'd left this room at all in the past two days."

"I've been busy. How's Morgan?"

"Unsettled and grieving, but they'll be fine. They have a colouring book and we've improvised wide grips on some of the cutlery and colouring pencils, which is working well for them. You were right about both. Asha and Rhian are with them now. And don't change the subject. You look almost ill."

Blue has large bags under his eyes, eyelids drooping now he's not looking at his computer. There's a massive thermos beside him. So he's left the room at least once.

"How much caffeine have you had?"

Blue's hand twitches. "Not too much."

"Bullshit. Drink some water, take a break. That's an order, Blue, because I know you won't do it any other way. And you're going to eat some proper food with us tonight. No arguments."

Blue looks like he's about to argue, but he just wilts instead, running a hand through his unkempt hair.

"Are you sure they don't hate me?"

"Of course they don't. It was Morgan's decision to watch it, neither Rhian or Asha hate you for giving them free will. And Morgan certainly doesn't. They're shaken, obviously, heavy nightmares, but they'll recover. Hating you isn't the default."

"I– it's hard. The recordings of Morgan are brutal. There's a lot of information here though, if I can just get through it."

"Break first, information later. Or you'll miss things."

"Like what?"

"Like me coming in the room earlier. You usually hear that immediately. Your senses are dulled, you’re overtired, and you’ve got to be emotional. Take a break, have a rest, it’ll be here later. I’m making your favourite.”

Blue smiles weakly, looking shaken. “Maybe… that might be a good idea. Some of the training videos hit a bit close to home.”

Asim squeezes Blue’s shoulder as he stands wearily. “You were so scared and surprisingly naive when you arrived. Now look at you. You’ve come a long way, and I'm proud of you. But you still don’t take care of yourself properly.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Will Morgan, Rhian and Asha be there?”

“If you’re okay with it.”

Blue nods. “Sure. They can stay.”

_

Rhian cheers when Blue enters the kitchen. “You’re here! We’ve missed you.”

Morgan gives him a hesitant wave, which he returns. Because okay, they might be a weapon, and he and Asim might have contingencies upon contingencies, but right now they're huddled into themself, eyes puffy with tears and exhaustion, Archimedes in their hands and a set of cutlery with padded grips in front of them. They look younger than Blue’s ever really seen them, and maybe it’s the sheer humanity of the video flashing through his mind but he can’t see a weapon in them right now. Normally that would make him on edge, but now he’s just tired.

Maybe Asim was right. Maybe he does need a break.

Asha narrows her eyes, examining them. “You don’t look very well.”

“Just overtired. I’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.”

“You’re still going by Morgan, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“No need for formalities, I just wanted to check what your name is now. There’s more videos and documents if you want to look at them, but first I want to apologise for hurting you. I’ve been a bit… insensitive, I guess I sort of forgot you’re a person too. You might have the capacity to be dangerous, but you’re still one of us, and I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you’re not.”

Morgan frowns. “This weapon is not a person, and weapons cannot be hurt. But if you want forgiveness from a malfunctioning weapon, it, I, it forgives you anyway.”

It's not long before Asim finishes the scrambled eggs on toast, and Blue can't help but watch as Morgan eats. They do so one-handed at first, still copying Rhian, but even that looks easier with the new grips.

At least something tangibly good has come out of that video, then.

“This weapon is sorry if it upset you,” says Morgan quietly, over the sound of forks and plates. “It did not mean to. It has been malfunctioning a lot recently, it thinks maybe that memory was bad.”

Blue waves his hand in the air, nearly poking Asim's remaining eye out with his fork. “’s okay. You didn’t do any of those things, that was the government. I think you need to get used to having a past.”

Morgan nods, snuggling up against Asha. Blue thinks they’re trying to make sure Rhian can eat by not blocking their arm. As if anyone with a heart could think that they’re not human when they do things like that.

But then, the director doesn’t have one.

“How are you doing, Blue?” asks Rhian concernedly. He shrugs.

“I’m alive. The nightmares aren’t too bad. Think that’s the best I can hope for, considering.”

Considering everything the government did to Morgan that reminds Blue too much of his own training. He wasn’t lying when he told Asim the information hit close to home. It’s causing memories to pop up all over the place, ones he thought he’d securely boxed up and stored away.

He’ll get over it though. He always does.

It's the best the situation can get. And really, isn’t that all anyone can hope for?

[pigeonwhumps]

Difficulty breathing

MD-264N masterlist

@febuwhump day 10: difficulty breathing

Taglist: @wolfeyedwitch

Morgan wakes from a nightmare and panics.

640 words

CWs: self dehumanisation, panic attack, mentioned electrocution, brief mention of potential death

MD-264N wakes with a gasp, slamming upwards into something. It feels phantom shocks running over its skin, and it locks its body, staying completely still as it falls back to the cot. It's being corrected for moving so the only thing it can do is stay still, but it can't. It keeps trembling, its limbs twitching and shaking.

Something's pushed under the weapon's hand and it flinches away, then stills. It's supposed to be still, it keeps displaying aberrant behaviour, and if it continues to be so aberrant and malfunctioning it'll be decommissioned.

"Morgan. Hey, Morgan, sweetheart. Breathe. You're safe. You're in our bedroom, it's just Rhian, you remember me? You're Morgan, not MD-264N, Morgan. Remember? You're safe. Here you go, come on."

Its fingers are wrapped gently around the object under its hand, with its warmness and its rough and soft fabric patches. A warm hand envelopes its own and squeezes.

"Come on, Morgan. You're not at the compound anymore. It's just me and you."

MD– no, Morgan, it's Morgan, it remembers now. It remembers Rhian and Asha and Asim and Blue, and it's not at base anymore. It's not being tested.

It takes a deep, shuddering breath and shuffles up against the headboard, because it can do that here.

"Rhian?" the weapon chokes out hoarsely.

"Hey sweetheart." Rhian kneels in front of it, staying at eye-level. "You're back. How are you doing?"

"Malfunctioning. Breathing is too fast and its throat is tight." Its breaths are coming too fast, it can't pull enough air in. It feels like it's going to decommission itself.

"You're having a panic attack. It's okay. Just breathe. Can you tell me five things you can see?"

"You, the duvet, this weapon's legs, um"–its gaze flickers around the room–"the, the window, um… it, um…"

"That's good. Four's good. Okay, four things you can touch?"

"Archimedes, your hand, the duvet, um, and, um, my pyjamas."

Morgan turns its hand the other way up, gripping Rhian's fingers around Archimedes. She squeezes gently.

"Three things you can hear?"

"Your voice, a car, and, and, the weapon's voice."

"You're doing so well, sweetheart. Two things you can smell?"

Morgan takes a deep breath through its nose. "Coffee. And, um, lavender."

"And finally, one thing you can taste?"

It licks its lips. "Salt."

Rhian smiles. "There you are. Is that better?"

Morgan nods. "The weapon's breathing is slower and its heartrate is slowing down. It is functioning better now. But its throat is itchy-tight."

"That's because you're still scared. I mean, it could just be anticipation, or general anxiety or worry, but I'm betting you're still scared of what you just dreamed about, hm?"

"Weapons don't feel."

"You just had a panic attack, or something close to it, sweetheart, I'm not convinced that's true. And it's perfectly acceptable for you to be afraid."

Morgan swallows hard and nods. It's not sure exactly what it means to be scared, weapons aren't supposed to feel, but it's still thinking about its dream, even though it's trying not to. So it probably is still scared. "That's okay. You've had nightmares before, it's okay, you're allowed to be scared. There's nothing wrong with it, sweetheart. Just carry on breathing and you'll be alright. Would you like a hug?"

Morgan nods, and Rhian wraps her warm arms around it, keeping it safe. It rests its head on her shoulder, allowing itself to breathe. It's okay it's okay it's okay it's with Rhian it's okay.

"Shh," murmurs Rhian, rubbing its back soothingly. "It's alright, you're safe. You're good. Yeah? You're good."

The weapon nods again. An itchy-tight throat means it's scared, then. Or worried. That's another one to add to the list.

There's so many things to feel here, it makes its head spin. But it's better than not being allowed to feel at all.

[pigeonwhumps]

Found footage

MD-264N masterlist

@febuwhump alt 8: found footage

Taglist: @wolfeyedwitch @den-of-evil

Blue reluctantly shows Morgan footage of themself from the hacked Ministry hard drive.

1.4k

CWs: minor whump, parental death, kidnapping, grief, mentioned ableism, mentioned abuse

"Thanks for this," mutters Rhian. Blue shrugs uncomfortably.

"I promised I'd try. And it is their past, after all. If they want to see it then I guess it can't hurt. I'll call you if we need anything."

Rhian looks reluctant to leave but does so after a reassuring smile at Morgan, shutting the door to the workroom quietly behind her. Blue turns to Morgan, who's standing behind one of the computer chairs, hands behind their back.

"Sit down. Are you sure you want to watch this?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay. There's information documented in writing too, if you want to read it later, but for now we'll stick with this video. It's the first of the lot, taken from security footage from a house in Bangor. If it gets too much, press the space-bar here, or tell me. Are you ready to start?" Morgan looks terrified, but nods determinedly. Blue sits down beside them and pulls the mouse towards him, watching them warily out of the corner of his eye. "Okay. Here we go."

The video's in grainy black and white, showing a hallway of a modest house similar to the rebels' own. Shoes and toys are scattered around, and there's a few colouring books and some scattered pencils with large grips on a shelf. This is clearly a family home.

A child giggles in the background, and a woman responds in what Blue thinks is Welsh. Someone's added English subtitles to the security footage, and he follows along.

"Ah, come on, put that down, little one. No, hey– hey!" A young child comes charging into view, tackled by a laughing young woman, who grabs the notebook out of their hands.

Beside Blue, Morgan reaches out towards the screen before dropping their hand and whispering brokenly, "Mam."

The little child on-screen is very likely Morgan, then, especially given that this recording is in their file. According to the documentation they're eight, but they look younger.

"Lovely drawings, baby, but did you have to colour in the letters as well? What's my professor going to say?"

"He'll say that it's so colourful he just has to give you extra marks!"

"Well, it is very nice and colourful. Maybe we can put it on the wall after my professor's had a look."

Morgan beams.

There's a jangle of keys and both look up as a man booms, "I'm home!"

"Tad!" yells Morgan, running off-screen (next to Blue, present Morgan mouths the word along with their younger counterpart). The man lets out an "oof".

"Hey there little monster. How was your day?"

"I did all my exercises. And mam says we can put my colouring on the wall!"

The two of them have walked into the camera frame now, the young, bearded man's arm around Morgan. He kisses Morgan's mum quickly.

"How was work?" Morgan's mum asks. Their dad makes a face.

"Boring. Packing parcels never gets interesting. You two seem to have had a better day."

"Lili forgot to tell you her biggest achievement today." Their mum hands her notebook to their dad, who takes it with his free hand and examines it.

"You been colouring in your mam's coursework again?" Morgan nods. "Little monster. I– wait. That's your handwriting. You wrote your name?"

"Yep!" replies Morgan proudly, and their dad beams, ruffling their hair.

"Well done! This calls for celebratory pancakes. You want to go and choose the mould? I need to talk to your mam."

Morgan nods and runs off, and Blue can hear clattering, presumably from the kitchen. Morgan's dad's smile falls slightly.

"What's wrong? Did you speak to your colleague?"

He runs a hand through his hair. "Yeah. I didn't say it was because of Lili, obviously, but I asked what I could about hiding her powers and keeping her out of the government's hands. His advice was to homeschool for as long as possible and speak to a rebel-aligned specialist about controlling her powers. Which we're already doing."

Morgan's mum sighs. "Great. I don't want to go into hiding but if it's the only way to keep Lili safe…"

Their dad places his hands on her shoulders. "Hey. We've got time until the standardised exams. She doesn't need to go near any officials for a few years yet. Also, I got the radio parts."

"Excellent."

"Let's see what mould Lili's chosen. 50p says it's the owl one."

"Only 50p?"

"Well, we do have a new Sword in the Stone one."

Blue almost doesn't want to watch any more. Tears are streaming down Morgan's cheeks already, and Blue can guess what comes later in the video. Morgan's parents were worried about the government taking them away for special education, similar to what he had, and that did happen, he supposes.

He doesn't want to watch this happen. The kidnapping. The electric shocks. He's had enough of his own, he doesn't want to see it happen to another child who's not a so-called 'normal' person who the government will leave to live their life. With Morgan's disability and powers, and their parents' resistance, it's no wonder that the government wanted them out of society.

That doesn't mean that Blue wants to watch.

But… he needs to. The rebels need any information they can glean from Morgan's records, and that includes these videos. Also, Morgan's watching, and he made a promise. He steels himself and turns his attention back to the screen.

"True." They start walking off-screen. "Hey, little one, what did you choose? Ah, I owe your tad 50p."

Just then, there's a series of heavy raps on the door.

"Ministry of Defence! Open up!"

"Lili, you need to run, just like we practiced."

"But I don't want to leave you!"

"You have to, baby. We'll come for you, I promise. I love you so, so much." There's a sound Blue recognises from his early childhood as a sloppy wet kiss on a forehead. "Now go!"

"They didn't– come," whispers Morgan, hunching into themself, as the younger version of themself dashes across the screen, pancake mould in hand. "They didn't, I– it–" They cut themself off with a sob.

Blue reaches across and pauses the video. "You don't have to watch this. I can stop it if you like?" Morgan shakes their head. "Okay."

Morgan's parents enter the hallway, and their mum unlocks a safe behind a children's painting. She tosses a gun and ammunition to their dad, loading another for herself and clicking off the safety.

"If we don't get out of this…"

"We will," he interrupts. "We have to. For Lili."

"Still. I love you."

The door bursts open and Morgan's parents start firing at the agents in the doorway. A couple of agents fall, there's a burst of gunfire, and then–

"Mam!" screams present-day Morgan, rocking back in their seat, hands flying up to cover their mouth. Blue rests a hand on their shoulder to hopefully ground them and they grab it, squeezing tight. The grip turns into a vice when their dad crumples to the ground too, their voice by this point barely a pained whisper, tears streaming down their cheeks, pooling on their lap.

"Tad…"

Despite the pain, Blue doesn't try to get Morgan to let go as they continue to watch. It's more of a frightened kid than a dangerous weapon next to him now, and he can't bring himself to force them into the position of having no comfort whatsoever.

Several agents dressed in full combat gear enter the hallway, fanning out and disappearing in various directions at their leader's orders. There's no subtitles for them – they're all speaking English.

The hallway empties except for the leader, who rifles through the pockets of Morgan's parents, pulling out electronic parts from their dad's. The floor and walls are spattered with blood, and there's probably more bodies out of shot.

Suddenly, the sharp, terrified scream of a child rings out, and a few seconds later an agent comes into view carrying a squirming Morgan in their arms.

They fall still and silent and their eyes widen at the bodies and the blood. "Mam? Tad? Let me go, let me go, mam, mam, tad!"

The agent cuffs Morgan around the head and they fall limp, dazed. "Your parents are dead. Shut the fuck up or I'll give you something worth screaming about."

The agents leave the house and there's a few seconds of a silent, bloody hallway before the video ends.

Blue looks down at Morgan, unsure what to say. They're curled up, sobs racking their body, eyes screwed shut, hands clamped over their ears, still clutching him tightly with one of them, and he has no idea what to do.

[pigeonwhumps]

Fever

MD-264N masterlist

Febuwhump day 11: fever

Taglist: @wolfeyedwitch @den-of-evil

Morgan has a fever.

954 words

CWs: self-dehumanisation, fever, hallucinations, past brainwashing, past loss of parents, conditioned whumpee

"Mam?"

"She's not here anymore, baby," replies Asha softly, for the second time in as many minutes.

"Tad?"

Asha feels a pang in her heart. Morgan's Welsh? Like her? Whereabouts in Wales are they from? She switches to Welsh, hoping it might help.

"He can't be here either. It's just me."

"They're both gone?" Morgan replies in Welsh, their voice cracking on the last word.

"I'm so sorry, Morgan. So sorry."

Morgan breaks into heart-wrenching sobs. Asha bites her lip. She's not sure what to do. She can't do anything about the fever except wait it out, and she doesn't know how to comfort her friend either. Rhian's better at it, but she'd been tending to Morgan for two days straight by the time Asha managed to wrestle them into her bed. She isn't waking them for anything except a dire emergency.

Asha really isn't sure how much longer her heart can take this, though.

She strokes Morgan's hair. "Shh."

There's a flash of fear in Morgan's eyes, and they stare fixedly at a point on the far wall. They seem to be going to great lengths to stop their crying, trembling from the effort, breathing still shaky. Asha looks behind her but there's nothing there.

"What is it, Morgan?"

"The Director," they reply breathlessly in English. "This weapon is malfunctioning and it is going to be corrected for its aberrations and, and she's going to punish you for treating it like a person. That's not fair, it's the weapon which malfunctioned." Morgan whimpers, cowering back against the headboard, hands curling into the position they were in when the mitts were first removed, clearly displayed in front of them. "Please, sir, this weapon apologises, it will do better, it does not need to be corrected. No… no, weapons don't make decisions, weapons don't plead. It deserves it."

"She's not going to lay a finger on either of us," says Asha firmly, almost boiling over with fury. How dare anyone convince Morgan that they deserve to be tortured? "I won't let her."

"But… it… how?"

"I'll protect you. She's a hallucination, but I'll stay with you until she's gone."

Asha moves off the bed and sits down in front of it, between Morgan and their hallucination. She leans against the bed, tilting her head back to look at Morgan. She winks.

"I won't move from this spot. I'll keep you safe."

"Promise?"

"I promise. I might be a doctor, but I wouldn't be a rebel if I couldn't fight at all. Get some sleep, I'll keep watch."

There's a long pause, and then Morgan brokenly whispers, "Thank you."

"Any time."

Asha looks back towards the wall. Hopefully Morgan's fever will break soon. She listens to their quiet, ragged sobbing until their breathing finally evens out into sleep.

_

Morgan wakes groggily and immediately tries to take stock of its situation. Its limbs are heavy and its head is stuffy. It isn't working very efficiently at all.

It looks down the cot to see Asha sitting on the floor, head back against the wood of the cot as she snores. What's she doing there?

The weapon thinks back and vaguely remembers something about… protection? Yes, that's it. It saw its handler, and Asha promised to protect it. And she… stayed.

Morgan's heart-rate increases as it remembers the correction its handler promised, and the punishment for Asha. It'll be even worse if it's found, what if she finds it?

But… Asha will protect it. She promised. And maybe they won't find it anyway.

Hopefully.

Morgan stares at Asha for a while, unable to make sense of the situation. She's been sitting there, protecting it, all this time?

Asha snorts and startles awake, looking around blearily at Morgan. She smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Hey. How are you doing? Has the Director gone yet?"

"Yes, Asha. This weapon is still not operating at optimum efficiency."

Asha walks stiffly over to Morgan and places a hand on its forehead. "Your fever's broken, and your hallucinations have gone, right?" It nods. "That's good. We just have to wait for you to get better now."

"Thank you. I'm sorry, Asha. This weapon will do better in future, I, it promises."

"It's not your fault you're ill, you don't need to apologise for it." Asha pauses, cocking her head. "I can hear your accent now. Faint, but it's there. You're from north Wales, right? Before the government took you, I mean."

Morgan frowns. "This weapon has always been a weapon, it did not have a life before that. It is sorry, but it does not understand."

Asha looks upset. "You were speaking Welsh earlier, asking for your parents, and you have a Welsh accent. You might not remember but you did have a life before the government snatched it away from you."

"It is sorry for upsetting you."

"I'm not upset with you, Morgan, I'm upset with the government. Your handlers. Whoever else was involved in your kidnapping and torture. But not you. Can I give you a hug?"

Morgan nods and Asha wraps it up in her arms. It still doesn't understand what she means, it doesn't remember anything before being a weapon, and its mind keeps skittering away when it tries to remember any Welsh. It wishes it knew what she was talking about. But weapons don't get wishes, and it curls up in her warm embrace. Asha promised to protect it, and she has, and she's still here. She stayed on the uncomfortable floor while the weapon slept and now she's giving it a hug it doesn't deserve, and she's upset on its behalf even though nothing's wrong.

Morgan doesn't know what to do with all of that.

[pigeonwhumps]

Secrets revealed

MD-264N masterlist

Febuwhump day 6: secrets revealed

Rhian and Blue have an argument, and Morgan overhears.

1.4k

CWs: dehumanisation, self-dehumanisation, fear/expectation of death, mentioned child abuse

Blue's sipping his coffee when Rhian enters the kitchen.

"Hi."

"Good morning. How's… Morgan doing?"

Rhian pops a couple of slices of bread in the toaster and leans back against the counter. Blue sounds incredibly awkward, but at least he's trying. "Not too bad. I'm taking them out to see the sky later."

Blue nods. "I won't stop you from taking it out if Asim permits it, but be careful. It's still dangerous."

"They," says Rhian sharply. "They, not it, until they can decide for themself what they want to use. And they're not dangerous, not to me."

"They held a knife to your throat. They're still a weapon, Rhian. They've hurt people."

"Not by choice. You're a hypocrite, you know that? You worked in that government-funded lab for years, you created so much technology for them. The trackers that can locate us to our very building, the implant restraints that the Ministry of Justice puts in all of their prisoners. Hell, you helped invent so much of the stuff that hurt me and so many others, and I know you left for a reason, I respect you for blowing up the lab when you did, but damn, Blue. You can't call Morgan dangerous when the harm your technology did is incalculable. At least Morgan had to be brainwashed first."

Blue sets his cup down a little too hard, rocking back on his heels. "I've tried to make up for it. Are you really still so angry? I get it if you hate me, I–"

"No. I didn't mean to be so harsh, that wasn't what I meant. God, you were brainwashed too, or close to it. I just… I managed to trust you. Can you at least give Morgan a chance?"

Rhian regrets their earlier outburst as Blue swallows visibly. They know he's trying his best, but sometimes it's still hard.

"You're sure they're not a government agent?"

"If they were a government agent they'd have left their room before now. We're only going as far as the flat part of the roof anyway, you can keep an eye on us if you like."

"Why the roof?" asks Blue, mostly out of curiosity now, Rhian thinks.

"I asked why they ran, and they said they wanted to see the sky again before they were decommissioned. So I'm going to show it to them."

Blue nods, both of them pretending not to notice the way Rhian's voice cracks halfway through the first sentence. "If you truly believe they don't mean any harm, I trust your judgement. That doesn't mean I trust them, but… I guess they haven't hurt you yet."

"Thank you. I really don't hate you, you know? You're a bit annoying sometimes, but you're family. You built my arm. Don't want you thinking I hate you." God, Rhian would never want that. Blue nods. "Good. Good."

Blue leaves the room as Rhian smothers Morgan's stone-cold toast in jam, just butter for themself. He's probably going to set up his space in the loft.

As much as Blue's dismissal of Morgan as dangerous bites at Rhian, she knows where it comes from. This is the first real home he's had in a long time, and he knows better than most what the government's capable of when they put their mind to it. She doesn't like it but she understands.

Morgan's door is slightly open when Rhian makes it upstairs, and she nudges it with her foot. Morgan's sitting hunched on the bed, Archimedes in their arms, tears streaming down their face. She hurries over.

"Morgan? Hey sweetheart, what's wrong?" They weren't like this when she left, or she wouldn't have. What can have happened in that…

Oh.

Oh, of course.

"Did you overhear us?" they ask gently, and Morgan nods. "Oh, sweetheart."

"I, it, it, this weapon is sorry. It did not mean to hear."

"Shh, it's okay. We weren't exactly making much of an effort to stay quiet. You did nothing wrong. Will you take the plates?"

Morgan lifts the small stack off her hand. "This weapon didn't mean to cause conflict. It doesn't need to go outside. It is still dangerous, it is a weapon, it doesn't need any indulgences."

"Sweetheart, seeing the sky isn't much of an indulgence. It's nice on the roof. But that's not it, is it, what's making you cry?"

Morgan swallows visibly and shrinks into themself, assuming the straight-backed, neutral position that's their default around Asim, and presumably Blue if he ever meets them properly. Anyone who's not her or Asha. It hurts Rhian's heart to see, and she sits down next to them, squeezing their hand.

"Did Blue really work for the government? Is he going to return or decommission this weapon? This weapon doesn't wish to be ungrateful, it just– it– I–"

They cut off, eyes welling with tears.

"In a way he did, yes. His lab was funded by them. But it wasn't exactly his fault. When he was twelve, he was flagged as a genius on a standardised test and taken away to a special school, run by the government. I don't know how much you know about them, but from what I can gather the teaching – training, really, indoctrinating – was harsh. He hasn't seen his family since he was twelve. He also, as you just heard, did manage to leave and blew his whole lab up with him. He won't hurt you, Morgan, I promise. He's protective of us, but that doesn't mean he'll hurt you. And he certainly won't hand you over to the government. Okay?" Morgan nods. "The toast is already stone-cold I'm afraid, so shall we take it outside with us?"

Morgan gives a ghost of a smile and stands, helping Rhian move the bed away from the window. She opens it as wide as it'll go and steps out onto the roof of the extension.

"Pass me the blanket and come on out here."

Morgan obeys, looking around with something approximating wonder on their face. Rhian spreads the blanket with Morgan's help and tugs them down to sit against the wall with her.

"How long am I allowed to stay out here, Rhian?"

"As long as you like. And this isn't a one-time only offer, either, you can come out whenever you like." Morgan seems to relax at that, and Rhian squeezes their shoulders. "Oh, sweetheart. We're not going to keep you imprisoned inside all the time. You're not a prisoner."

"This weapon isn't going to be decommissioned?" Morgan whispers, eyes on the skyline, rubbing circles into one of Archimedes' rougher patches, and Rhian's heart lurches.

"No, of course not, what makes you think– oh."

Oh, of course.

"Although this weapon does not have wishes, it wished to see the sky before it was decommissioned. It is sorry for wanting things it doesn't need."

Rhian feels a pang in their chest. Such a simple wish, and yet they're so conditioned that they're scared to want even that.

"I'll take you outside. Today, in fact." Morgan's stomach rumbles loudly. "Just let me fetch you some food first."

It wasn't just Blue making them cry, and Rhian's not sure how they didn't notice just how tense Morgan is, even more so than usual when they're alone together.

"No, sweetheart. I'm sorry, I never meant to make you think that we'd kill you. You being outside now has no correlation with your death. I promise."

"You promise?" they whisper, clapping a hand to their mouth in horror afterwards.

"I promise. We're never going to hurt you. You're not being decommissioned, and you won't be… corrected for speaking. Let me give you a hug?"

Morgan nods, tucking themself into Rhian's side. They're so small and traumatised. There's fuzz growing on top of their head, and Rhian wonders if they'll let her dye it green once it's longer. Then she inexplicably feels guilty for thinking that.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

"This weapon shouldn't have leaked. It was an aberration. Weapons that are no longer useful should be decommissioned, it knows that. You do not need to apologise to a weapon, it is sorry."

"Hey. Your usefulness doesn't determine your value, yeah? And we'll never get rid of you." She strokes the top of their head. "What do you think of the sky then?"

Morgan tilts their head back further, staring upwards into the scudding grey clouds.

"It's beautiful."

[pigeonwhumps]

Disproportionate retribution

MD-264N masterlist

BTHB: Disproportionate Retribution

Woo! My first bingo fill!

The Director of the compound Morgan was held in punishes Morgan's handler.

332 words

CWs: unnamed character death, gunshot, inaccurate military setting, talk of death, dehumanisation

Jodie Armstrong, Director of Base 47, Senior Handler of the weapon designated MD-264N, and loyal employee of the Ministry of Defence, walks up and down the line of soldiers, fuming.

"You lost MD-264N. You let it escape. How were you stupid enough to lose our greatest weapon?"

"With all due respect, sir," says one of the soldiers, "we were going to decommission it anyway."

Jodie spins on her heel, glaring at the soldier, who swallows but holds his ground. Stupidly brave. "And now it's likely in the hands of dangerous rebels, which we really don't need right now. The minister has been hounding me with demands to know what happened. So. I've already talked to security, and believe me they will be dealt with. Which one of you was the idiotic handler who was supposed to be decommissioning MD-264N?"

A different man to earlier steps forward. "Me, sir."

"What happened?"

"I was halfway through the first stage when the power went, sir, and I came to find you. That's when the alarm went off, and by the time I got back MD-264N was gone, sir."

"I see. So you left it in an unlocked room with the power to its restraints also out?"

The soldier shuffles uncomfortably. "It was fully conditioned, sir, I thought–"

Jodie's heard enough. She pulls her gun out of her holster and shoots the soldier at point-blank range. He falls backwards and hits the concrete hard, a gaping hole in his forehead.

"Losing MD-264N was your last mistake. Now the rest of you – deal with the body and find me that weapon!"

"Yes, sir."

The soldiers march off hurriedly and Jodie shakes her head. She wishes the Minister would hire soldiers for this facility with a modicum of intelligence, but their only qualification is loyalty. Still. She is going to get MD-264N back if it's the last thing she does. The traitors will not get to keep the greatest weapon she's ever created. She'll make sure of it.