#syranges tw

[when-wax-wings-melt]

Hmmmmmmm MMM it would be so nice if I were able to cry but I don't think that's working right now?

[albino-whumpee]

It was a sunny day

SO, I finally wrote the accident. God I had so so many doubts about this part. But hey, its ok. its just for fun. 778900´s POV first before we dip into Robert´s.

This is a series, here´s the Masterlist

Taglist: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @giggly-evil-puppy @cowboysrappin @haro-whumps @burtlederp @neuro-whump @comfortforthepain @whumps-the-word @whole-and-apart-and-between @broken-horn @ashintheairlikesnow @rosesareviolentlyread @crowned-avery @starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @as-a-matter-of-whump  @whumpasaurus101 @grizzlie70 @boxboysandotherwhump

TW// dehumanization, slavery, human trafficking, narcotics and syranges, death, child death, car accidents, dub-con, dub con touching (sexual), kind of spicy, blood, conditioning, defiant whumpee, curse words, This one is messed up, so please be careful when going through it.

It had been two years.

778900 had been waiting for two years for someone to take him. As the days passed, as he tried completing his training with as little “incidents” that ended up in him getting yet another set of fresh bruises, the hope of getting out was starting to die out.

He tried being good.

He tried to do everything the handlers ordered him to do. Did his positions, however humilliating they were, ate the flavorless nutrition meals, kept his head down and his attention sharp. But it was useless. One way or another, he would fail.

So he payed attention to even the tiniest detail.

How the handler´s watch would always mark 5 am when they were told it was night, how the blond handler´s hands always stayed a moment longer than necessary when he was on position training, how the cooking classroom was essentially the handler´s meal prep, the direction all handlers walked to when they talked about “going for some fresh air”; How the handlers would shift the camera in the hallway next to the handler´s room after taking a boy with them for whatever lame excuse they would put and finally, how the medic at the facility kept syringes with a powerful narcotic in her coat´s pocket just in case.

You signed up for this

A voice inside his head told him, before he stared at the handler´s clock and found the needle pointing at five, just as expected. As he went to the medic´s office to receive his daily dosis of vitamins. “Special treatment” was not quite the reason he had to take them. It was just them making sure the precious money and time spent training him, wasn´t wasted on a defective product.

He didn´t remember anymore, but he had come weighting half the acceptable for a boy his age and size. It was no surprise he fainted with just a stretching routine. It had gotten better with the vitamins, but the handlers were forced by the medic to not beat him if he fell to the ground.

He was deeply thankful for the woman to go that far for him even with the handler´s threats. So, so very thankful he got vitamins thanks to her kindness. Or so he made it seem, as she allowed him to give her a hug. Not sensing at all his hand taking out the syringe before responding to her “take care” with a bright smile on his face that distracted her from his hands.

You wanted to not make any decisions for yourself.

He heard deep inside his head as he added something to the sauce for the dish they cooked at class that day. The trainee sneaked glances at the blond handler coming to his table to watch him clean up after cooking, noticing the last boy went through the door with his handler, he knocked the sauce all over him. Loudly. So fashionably eye catching, the blond whipped his head to laugh at him.

“I-I´m sorry, I didn´t see it and…I´m so sorry” He stumbled on his words, acting as if he was cleaning himself up. Smirking to himself, the man pulled him up and started cleaning him.

“Jesus, what a waste. How can you be that clumsy?” he asked him, not exactly sounding annoyed to put his hand over his chest. Slowly, 778900 took the man´s hand and passed it down his torso.

“Thank you…” he said with a honey toned voice, making sure he pressed his hand right above his crutch, noticing the hungry look the man gave him, he rocked his hips on his hand, letting out a breathy moan. With his hand teasing the edge of his trainee shorts, the albino leaned to whisper on his ear, “…For helping me clean up” he finished with a little pop, “We have position training after this, but I will need a bath…” almost to emphasize,  The boy pulled the man´s dripping hand and pressed it to his lips. 778900 gave him a kiss on the cheek as he pushed one glaced digit into the stunned man´s mouth. “Please. I wouldn´t like anyone but you to do it” he had said in that needy voice he would hear romantics talk in sometimes.

He took off his finger to let him speak, but he could still feel the warmth of his tongue licking him clean.

“Where did you learn to talk like that?” the man asked him wetting his lips, before the trainee gave him a bratty pout and leaned on slightly closer.

“Does it matter?”

The man had bitten the bait. Or more accurately, licked it. Directly or from his hands. The boy had even moaned to encourage him to continue. In his bliss, the man was completely taken by surprise when the albino put his hand over his mouth and felt something puncturing his skin and then warmth began spreading through his body. He felt his limbs growing so heavy suddenly, he slouched over the boy. 

“Shh” the albino trainee whispered on his ear as he passed his fingers through his hair “Be a good boy and go to sleep for me” he said, putting away the empty syringe while staring at the turned off camera on the edge of the room the whole time.

A moment later he had crawled below the man and started undressing him after futilely trying to cut off the shock collar on his neck with a kitchen knife. The boy took his clothes and covered his hair with the little cap with “WRU” embroided in bright blue, making sure to cover his neck properly.

You signed up for this

His mind rocked back and forth as he kept his head down. Navigating the halls to the handler´s room in a quick, anxious pace that tried to avoid every suspicious eye. The trainee waited a second for the men to come out of the handler´s room to sneak inside. He couldn´t make up any letters as words without a migraine attacking him. So he guided himself with the drawings on the level map.

Silently, he came out of the room with the elevator on the far right on mind. He walked the same direction as them when they said they would “go get some fresh air” but found a handler and a few boys cleaning the halls. It was part of their training. He quickly noticed the handler´s eyes fixing on him. So, he took one boy and quietly directed him to clean over a spot on the other side. Far from them. The boy obediently followed his instructions and he patted his back before walking to the elevator.

I signed for this

He told himself as he extended the card over what he assumed was a card reader. There were no buttons but to open and close, so the only way to get out was only through the handler´s and executives cards, each designated to an specific floor. Of course, that was something the panicking, albino trainee didn´t know. He only had the Handler´s card by pure chance, but for his audacity, he was rewarded with the doors closing to feel the vertigo from going up.

And I fucking regret it.

There was a loud ring when the doors opened up again to a floor, and he prayed, it was the highest point. That there was a door conducting outside.

And it was.

He pushed it open and found above, the almost forgotten sky. The sun was already high up and just a few clouds spotted the vast blue.

It was a sunny day.

He stepped out without letting go. The view of trees, the sun on his skin and seeing how blue the sky was, drove him to tears quick enough that he didn´t notice there were other handlers smoking there.

“Hey, got some reds? I ran out” one of them asked, eyeing him for a second before a frown formed on his face, “Who are you? I have never seen you” He ignored him, heart throbbing on his ears as he tried walking past them, into the woods, “Hey!” one of them launched himself to grab his wrist, pulling on the uniform enough to find the barcode and numbers. “HOLY SH-” the man couldn´t finish before 778900 whipped his hand back and sprinted towards the forest. As quickly and as far away from their screams and their batons and the range from his collar as his feet could carry him.

Unknowingly, going straight into the highway.

He could hear their yelling getting lost behind him. Adrenaline helping him to outrun them. He jumped and knocked over a few bushes on his way. Tearing the clothes apart in his rush. Sweat made his forehead slippery enough for the cap to get lost somewhere on the way, but he couldn´t stop.

So he kept running until finally, he felt concrete under his oversized boots. He didn´t know how far he had run, but he knew he wanted to collapse right there and then as the haziness of hunger overcame him. He couldn´t stop now, but he allowed himself to catch his breath with his hands on his knees.

It was a second.

Just one second.

However, it was all it took to pass from breathing triumphantly that he was out to be in front of a van driving pass the limit.

It was one second when he curled into himself and the van turned to his right, avoiding him by mere centimeters and crashing violently into the other side of the highway. Turning and turning and turning.

The boy rose to his feet when he stopped hearing the metal crashing into the pavement. The world seemed to slow down then. As his chest heaved making his wayt to the turned around car, hoping there had only been one person aboard, his heart leaped. He had seen too many shadows, too many clothes scattered around.

Then, he heard the screams.

For a hot second he stayed still, considering he could simply turn his back on it. He would be in serious problems if they found him… but he had provoked it, hadn´t he? It would be his fault if something happened to the poor people inside the van. If they died… they would have died on a sunny day.

People shouldn´t die on sunny days.

A voice different from the usual, a voice that made him irrationally sad, told him.

So, he tried to rush to help, but felt the familiar bolt of pain on his neck. So much stronger than normal, he fell to the ground, his hands up on his neck before he could register he had screamed. There were a row of convulsing bolts that pinned him down. The electrifying pain took away his consciousness bit by bit.

He let out a whimper as someone grabbed him by the uniform´s shirt and started beating him. Reflexes too slow to put up his hands to defend his head or face. It took little more than two hits to draw out blood. To make his ears ring and his eyes to mud everything. But he didn´t need to see or hear to know it was the blond handler, pissed out of his mind.

He was barely awake when his head was pressed against the concrete, while he was roughly handcuffed on his back, before being pulled up. Only to be slapped when he couldn´t stand for himself, and then, thrown into the unforgiving cold of the van´s floor.

The car started so quickly, as he tried to pull himself up the ground, he couldn´t avoid slamming the back of his head against the door´s sharp edged lock.

From then on, it was black.

—-

“Yeah, yeah. I called an ambulance” the man shouted into his phone as he drove back to the facility. A pissed voice on the other side yelled at him loud enough to make him separate the phone from his ear, “Do you fucking think this was on the manual? They´re supposed to be fucking broken! How the hell did he get his hands on a narcotic? How the hell did no one notice? He´s white like a paper sheet for fucks sake!” he screamed back, hearing attentively to the voice “What? No, he´s fine. Just some scratches and- FUCK” The wheels burnt when he stopped the car to whip his head towards the blood pond on the back of the van. Fuming, he passed his hands through his hair, failing to hold a frustrated scream as he slammed open the doors and checked for a pulse. 

He sighed in relief before he passed the barely breathing boy to the front, wrapping a discarded scarf around his head before fastening the seatbelt and driving back.

“Jesus, kid” he shook his head, eyeing the unconscious boy next to him   “Couldn´t you have tried to escape in a less flashy way?”

When he got back, he begged the doctor he had stolen the narcotric from, to treat the boxie. To give him the strongest serum they had, because it wasn´t only him risking losing his job or worse.

She had no other choice than to agree. In the worst case, he would have brain damage. Putting aside the possible motor damage luckily they would be able to fix before anyone noticed, however, a colateral would be damage to his short term memory. Meaning, he would do things without being able to recall them later. In the optimistic side, it wouldn´t last forever. He would remember some things eventually. Hopefully much time after he was bought. When he wouldn´t be the company´s problem anymore.

Hoping it would be that way, she began treatment.

The man made his way to the handlers above, then. The men laughed at his incompetence, but he had made up his mind.

“I´m gonna quit”

“Right call” one of them said.

“None of you will talk about this. EVER. Nothing happened. I´ll even pay you, but none of this ever happened, understood?”

The men exchanged looks before smiling at their ex coworker “And what are you gonna do about the van?”

“Bad accident, four people died in situ. A four year old between them I heard”

“And the doctor too. The one that CEO´, was marrying on March. Heard CEO´s on the hospital as well” the blond handler gulped. “Guilty, Sanders? Want some serum to forget like the boxie?”

“Nothing. Happened” The men said through gritted teeth. The other two stared at him before pulling their hands up. What did they care anyways? If they had cared about humans pain, they wouldn´t be in that line of work. Well, beyond their own amusement.

When Sanders went away to write his resignation letter, both handlers stayed there for a while. Looking at the sun go higher and higher. No clouds on sight. It was the kind of day kids would use as an excuse to go outside. The perfect day to go on a picnic. To grab your partner and have a nice date. One of them wondered if they people on the van were going to do just that when the boxie jumped on the highway.

“What a pretty day to die though” he said, sipping on their cigarette looking up at the sky.

—

A few months later, “nothing happened” made the freckled twenty year old college student, the costume order box boy for a broken hearted CEO and two years later, a lonely, grieving woman take out 778900 out of his box.