Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

His first mistake was showing up to Collision alone. In his defense, it’s something he does often. When he’s on his own he’s not expected to talk or look strong. He’s not representing his father or Joe and Shibata. He can just curl up in a corner of the tech area and watch the fighting with his hood covering his face and his noise canceling headphones. He can stay curled up small, like a stray no one bothers to chase away.

So showing up alone to Collision is really nothing new, and he really can’t be blamed for that stupid decision.

His second, and likely more critical, mistake was not leaving the second The Death Riders called him out.

He starts paying attention the second The Death Riders come on screen. It's hard not to. He's fighting them in less than a week, and even if he wasn't, The Death Riders have an aura about them that makes it impossible to not acknowledge their presence.

So Moxley is taking over for Pac. That was almost definitely going to happen, but hearing it still makes him anxious. He does not want to fight Jon Moxley.

Then their words break through his haze.

“Well Joe, Shibata-san, you guys know that.”

They're calling out his teammates, his mentors. Telling them they know about pain. Of course they know about pain. They've been in the business for years. What about Hook?

“What are you teaching sweet young Hook?”

They are teaching him to be strong and powerful. They are teaching him to be a proper man, a better man then The Death Riders.

He tries to ignore the pit that forms in his stomach when he's referred to as “sweet young Hook.” Those are not two descriptors commonly attributed to him.

“Hook?” Moxley says on the screen, and Hook stares up at the screen unblinkingly. He's being addressed now, all on his own.

“Don’t worry, relax. It’s the biggest match of your life. But trust me, chicks dig scars.”

There's something about the way that Moxley says it that makes it seem like a joke. Like he knows something Hook doesn't. He sounds so weirdly nice for a man openly threatening him.

Yuta shows one of his own scars, one Hook knows came from Moxley himself. God that whole faction is so fucked up.

The segment ends without another word. Hook can feel his heartbeat everywhere, from his fingertips to soles of his feet. He feels crushed by a presence that's nowhere near him. The tech people are looking at him with concern. He doesn't know if it's concern for his safety or concern that his presence might draw The Death Riders to them.

He really tries to pay attention to the rest of the show, but it's futile. His mind is somewhere off in space, still stuck on being addressed by The Death Riders.

He goes to leave through a side hallway. People are still staring at him because of the Death Riders, or at least that’s what he assumes. Or maybe he’s just hard to be around.

He makes his way down the hall with his hands in his pockets, hood over his head.

His only warning is a shuffle of movement behind him. He spins around but before he can see anything there is a towel shoved over his face.

He struggles, but there are suddenly multiple arms holding him back. He slips and he's guided to the ground, held there on his knees.

He suddenly realizes that it's getting harder to breathe. The world is spinning. The arms are suddenly the only things keeping him from slumping to the ground. Panic makes his breathing increase, which just makes the dizziness worse.

Somewhere, beneath the panic, a sick little voice whispers that giving in, letting the blackness take him, feels easier than fighting.

The last thing he feels before he passes out is somebody lifting him up like a sack of flour.

—

He’s on the floor somewhere. It’s cold concrete, digging into his hip uncomfortably. His head is resting on a soft pillow.

“There is a child on our floor.” Someone says. He knows he recognizes that voice, but he can’t place it. His head is still too full of cotton.

“It’s not a child. He is only a few years younger than Yuta.” A second voice says, also naggingly familiar.

“Yuta is a child,” replies the first voice.

“Hey!” A third voice interjects, coming from right above him. He is suddenly hit with the realization that he’s not got a pillow under him. It’s someone’s thigh.

Judging by the conversation, it’s Wheeler Yuta’s thigh.

It’s only the fact that he physically can’t move his limbs that stops him from freaking out. As it is he can feel his heartbeat racing.

Perhaps it's a good thing that they don't know he's conscious.

“I was also curious about that though? Why’d we grab him? Wouldn’t beating him up achieve the same effect?” Yuta asks, voice uncertain.

“Pac is going to be out for the foreseeable future as his foot will require surgery. I cannot fill in for him forever, not if I am to continue protecting this title. A stand-in is required.” Moxley’s tone is calm, measured. The kind of calm that sounds like certainty, not discussion.

“Hook is young. The business has not yet ruined him. His partners and his father are trying their best to tame the animal inside him, but animals can be trained. With the right hand, even a stray can be taught discipline. He can be made into something proper.”

The words sink in too slowly, as though Hook’s skull has been stuffed with cotton. A stray. Tame. Trained. The phrasing makes his chest tighten, though whether from anger or fear he can’t tell.

Context tells him it's Moxley that's speaking, although his head is still too scrambled to tell for sure. That would make the other voice Claudio.

His words take a long time to process, and when they do Hook wants to curl into a ball or run or hide or scream. Hook wants to laugh in Moxley's face. He’s already a proper wrestler. But some part of him, the smallest, traitorous part, wonders what exactly Moxley means by “proper.”

They keep talking, but a ringing has filled Hook’s ears. Shock and fear run through him in waves. He tries to move and finds he can twitch his fingers but not much more. He stops, worried that The Death Riders would realize he’s awake.

Eventually some of Moxley’s words break through the buzz.

“-sure you got the dosage right? He should be waking by now, shouldn't he? He’s still breathing, right Yuta?

“Yeah, he’s breathing.” Yuta says, and Hook feels a hand rest gently over his heart, “his heartbeat is a bit slow, but sleeping slow, not dying slow.”

“I’m sure the dosage is right,” Claudio says, “unless his billed weight isn’t accurate.”

Shit. His billed weight isn’t accurate. He’s been stressed lately and eating less because of it. He’s dropped nearly 10 pounds in the last few months. He neglected to tell anyone important, lest people start worrying about him.

“Give him ten minutes. If he’s not awake by then then start googling ways to treat chloroform poisoning.”

“If he’s been poisoned then it’s way too late to-“ Yuta starts, then cuts off. Maybe a visual signal by Moxley or maybe Yuta thinking better of his own words.

“Let’s not entertain the idea that we killed Taz’s child and our new member.” Claudio says, and that is the end of the conversation.

They lapse into silence then. Hook is still freaking out, body still refusing to move. He’s still in Yuta's lap and he can hear someone else breathing off to his left. They haven’t left him alone.

They’re waiting.

His body comes back to him slowly, warmth spreading through him.

Unfortunately the fact that he can move means he can panic.

He wishes he had the control to keep the panic internal. He wishes it didn't have to come out of him in waves.

But it does.

His breathing comes faster and faster. He can barely move yet but he starts to tremble.

“Oh shit,” he hears Yuta say, “Are you awake?”

He manages, in one jerky motion, to pull his knees to his chest and tuck his chin down into a shitty version of the fetal position. He keeps his eyes shut tight. Maybe if he ignores everything it'll all go away.

It does not go away.

In fact it gets worse. There are hands on him, too many hands and voices are overlapping and he wants to hit someone or start yelling but he can’t. The hands are everywhere, pinning him down. Part of him wants to scream. Another part wants to sink his teeth into someone’s arm until they bleed.

“Stop touching him!” Someone eventually says, voice louder than the rest.

The hands recede, the voices quiet. Yuta’s thigh under his head becomes the only indicator that they’re still here with him.

It takes a long time and quite a bit of effort for his breathing to start to even out. Honestly he only attempts to calm himself because as scary as being conscious around the Death Riders is, being unconscious around them is so much worse.

Once his breathing calms he slowly opens his eyes.

It's as bad as he thought it would be. He’s laying on the padded floor of a windowless room, all exposed cinderblock and pipes. The Death Riders surround him, all but Yuta standing in a circle around them. Yuta's hands have retreated but he's still letting Hook rest on his thigh. If he could move he would but even just moving his head is difficult.

“Hey pup,” Moxley says, voice strangely kind.

He curls into a tighter ball, pressing back. It sinks him further into Yuta but better Yuta and Moxley. Yuta places a gentle hand on his arm as Moxley begins to speak.

“I don't want to hurt you, I just want to talk. You don’t belong with the rest of them. You feel it, right? They look at you and see some rookie still riding his daddy’s name. But me? I see what’s under the surface. I see that bite. That hunger. You’re a smart kid Hook, a really smart kid. This whole thing will be so much easier if you just accept this now. We can make you so much better than you ever imagined.”

Mox finishes talking, and Hook just stares at him. No blink, no flinch, no sign that anything got through. He closes his eyes again and tries to tune Moxley out. That lack of reaction makes Mox’s words hang heavier in the air, a bit like he’s talking to a brick wall.

If they really have been watching him then they should know he doesn’t use words often. Damn them if they think they’re getting that out of him.

When it becomes clear that Hook isn't going to respond, Moxley sighs.

“I was hoping you would listen nice and easy but I should have seen this coming. Feral dogs don't bend easy. It'll be worth it when you do though, just wait.”

Then Moxley leans down and scoops Hook up, easily carrying him to the wall. He sees the chains a second too late, desperately trying to wiggle out of his grip but he's still pathetically weak. Moxley easily dumps him on the floor in front of the wall. He gathers his hands above his head and cuffs them there, chaining them to the wall.

“I would put a collar on you but I don’t want ya to go and try to hang yourself.” He says nonchalantly.

Hook shows his teeth. It’s not much, not with the chain still pulling him back, but it’s instinct. Moxley smiles like he’s been waiting for it. He tries to yank, to get free and attack but the cuffs are strong, keeping him firmly in place. Someone off to his left laughs, he thinks it's Claudio but he can't be sure.

Moxley backs away before crouching in front of him, forearms resting on his knees, head tilted like he’s studying an animal behind glass. When he starts speaking this time his tone is much darker than his first pitch.

“You know what they like about you, kid? It ain’t your fists. Ain’t your wins. Ain’t that ugly title belt you carried around for a while. Hell, half the time it ain’t even you. It’s the fact you’re quiet. You’re obedient. You don’t bark, you don’t bite. You don’t make anyone nervous. They look at you and see a good little boy sittin’ at their heels. They clap ‘cause you stay put. They cheer ‘cause you don’t make waves. You’re safe.”

He leans in, voice dropping.

“That’s not respect. That’s pity. That’s the kind of affection people give to a mutt they keep on a short leash. They scratch you behind the ears, they toss you a bone, and you think that means they see you. They don’t. They don’t see shit.”

Hook tries to keep his eyes on the floor, but Mox presses two fingers under his chin, tilting his face up until their eyes meet. His smile isn’t kind. It’s sharp, dangerous.

“You’ve got teeth, Hook. I’ve seen ‘em. That chokehold of yours? That flash of anger when someone gets too close? That’s the real you. And you know what? I don’t want you quiet. I don’t want you obedient. I don’t want a pet.”

Mox lets go of him, sitting back on his heels, tone suddenly casual again.

“I want a dog that bites. One that scares people when it walks into a room. One that tears the leash right out of his master’s hand and doesn’t apologize for it. You got that in you. I can smell it. You’ve just been too afraid to let it out.”

He stands, looming over Hook, that same stupid half smile on his face.

“You can keep playin’ lapdog for Joe, for Shibata, for your old man. Let them pat you on the head while they tell the world you’re Taz’s kid, nothin’ more. Or you can come with us. Learn what it feels like to finally sink your teeth into something real. Think about it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Hopefully you will ‘ave found your big boy voice by then.”

Then he turns and leaves, leaves like he didn’t just try to tear Hook's world apart with a speech. The rest of the Riders fall in line behind him, leaving the room with barely a backwards glance at Hook. Yuta's eyes stay on him a few seconds longer than the rest but he goes without complaint too.

Then he's alone. They're really going to keep him here, chained to a pipe in their awful basement home. His breathing quickens again. The room is dead silent, dead still. His shoulders are already beginning to ache from the awkward position of the cuffs.

He shouldn't cry. They might still be watching him, he can't look weak.

But the situation is overwhelming and terrifying in a way he's never experienced before. He's completely alone, no father or Joe or Shibata to protect and console him so he tucks his head into his shoulder and lets tears fall.

Chapter Text

The minutes tick by slowly. He feels like at any second he's going to be attacked, like something is going to materialize from one of the dark corners of the room to lock its teeth around his throat. He starts counting in his head, feeling the seconds tick by.

After 100 seconds he relaxes, stretching out his legs and relaxing his shoulders.

After 1000 seconds he closes his eyes and leans his head back on the wall.

After 8273 seconds he hears a sound in the hallway that connects to the room. He opens his eyes.

Marina is standing in the doorway, watching him. When she sees he's seen her she smirks and approaches. He tries to press back into the wall but he’s stopped by the unyielding cinderblock of the wall

“Are you talking yet?” she asks him.

He glares at her. Fuck no, they want him to talk so he won’t.

She sighs. “Easier if you do.”

He tenses up as she approaches, ready to kick or knee if necessary, but she just pulls out a key, reaching out to unlock the cuffs.

“Don’t try any dumb shit,” she tells him. “Come on.”

He considers making a break for it but he doesn't know where he is and where the other Riders are. He would probably be jumped before he ever reached an exit.

So he goes where Marina shows him, following her out of the room and into a hall with several doors. They head down the hall, Hook’s head on a swivel. He needs to know everything about this place to escape.

Off the hall there is a staircase leading up to a large storm door, staircase lit by a single exposed light bulb. There are no windows anywhere either, so he thinks he must be in a basement. It's fitting, he thinks, that these people live in this dark underground space.

Marina shepherds him to a bathroom, cramped space with just toilet, sink and shower. He steps inside and Marina fills the doorway. Is this bitch seriously going to watch him pee?

He glares at her, and she glares right back. He crosses his arms and just stands there. After a long second Marina throws him an exhausted look and turns around. She's still very much in the doorway but at least it's a little better, definitely the best he's going to get.

He's not going to shower here though. These people will probably steal his clothes and set them on fire. When he's done washing his hands he looks at Marina. She's got her back to him. He could jump her. It's been hammered into him that he shouldn't hit women, but you're also not supposed to kidnap people and lock them in basements, so he thinks he gets a pass.

All it takes is a hard blow to her knees and she's down. He could take more time fighting her but he needs to run, needs to get out of here. He runs, heading for where he saw the stairs.

He's got his foot on the first step when pain explodes through his body, radiating out from a point on his arm. He collapses, falling backwards into the hall. A shadow looms over him. Marina, standing over him and smirking. She's got something in her hand and it takes him a few seconds to recognize it.

A taser. She's tased him.

She grabs his still limp body and drags him back to the room they're keeping him in, rechaining his hands to the wall. He wants to cry but he doesn't want to give her the satisfaction of seeing that.

“Well, I'll be back later. Don't go anywhere,” she says, smirking as the chain jangles.

He tries to look as unamused as possible, even as she leaves.

The room falls into silence again, and now the gravity of the situation really hits him. They're going to keep him here for a long time. They left him here for hours already, how long will it be this time? Are they going to leave him here for hours again? Days? Will they keep him until their title shot is passed?

How long will it be until someone notices he's gone? Will the hotel realize he never checked out, stuff still littered throughout his room? Will they know to call someone, or will they just keep charging his card? Maybe they'll just chuck it all in a dumpster. Will his father realize something is amiss when he misses their Monday night phone call, or will he just think Hook is being himself, off on some moody spiral? Surely people will know something is wrong when he's not there Wednesday, but what will happen then?

It's so easy to sit there and spiral in the quiet. There's nothing to stop him from digging into the deepest corners of his mind. No Joe to poke him in the chest when he sees him spacing out, no Shibata to notice he's overwhelmed and gently tuck him back, away from whatever's taken over his mind.

He spends some time trying to break the cuffs but they're heavy duty, the kind used to hold back dangerous animals. He's going to tear up the skin of his wrists before he makes any progress on freeing himself.

Sleep feels like a trap in this hostile environment, but staying awake is deceptively difficult. There are no sounds to focus on, no way to move around to keep himself awake. He tries, but there are only so many ways he can move with his hands trapped above his head. He can't even lay down properly.

Eventually, despite his best efforts, he starts to slip into sleep. The first couple of times he's able to blink himself awake, but eventually he gives up. Why is he even trying? He's trapped; they're going to be able to find him no matter what.

It's with that mindset that he slips into unconsciousness.

—

He wakes to Moxley's boot in his side.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” he says. “Feel like cooperating now?”

The effectiveness of his glare is probably somewhat dampened by his sleepiness, but he thinks he does well, all things considered.

“Guess not.”

He shrugs, but instead of leaving Moxley sits, just far away enough that Hook can't kick him.

“Here’s how this is gonna go. You are staying here until you start behavin’ properly, start listenin’ to us. We want what's best for you, honest. Look at us. We're on top of the damn world, and we want you.”

He glares at Moxley, but inside he's confused. Why do they want him? Out of all the people on the roster, why him?

“Now you're probably thinkin’, ‘Why me?’ Probably wondering what we see in you, right? Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna make you ask. You seem real selective with your words right now. We want you because of what you could be. You've never been out of your little shell, playing the good guy or your father’s loyal soldier. Nobody's ever let you out to bite and claw and punch. We can do that. Don't you want to tear them all apart? Not everyone feels that, you know. You're special.”

He'd like to tear Moxley apart. The man is lying to his face. Of course everyone feels that anger, that crawling under the skin that makes him want to lash out and draw blood.

Right?

“See?” Moxley says. “You know what I'm talking about. That's what makes us special. Embrace it, puppy. Let us guide you.”

He spits at Moxley.

“I see you need more time to think,” the man growls. He stands, wiping his face off with the back of his hand.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

—

True to his word, he doesn't see Moxley for the rest of the day. Marina comes by sometime after Moxley leaves, but Hook doesn't know how long. His perception of time is already blurring.

She lets him out again, bringing him to the restroom again. The taser is in her hand the entire time, so he doesn't dare try to run again. Instead he tries to glance into the other rooms, but he can barely get a glimpse before Marina is pushing him forward.

When they return to the room Marina doesn't immediately chain him again. Instead she offers him a small plate of what looks like meatloaf.

Oh fuck no. They could be trying to poison him. Hell, even if they aren't, he's not eating their food. He's not listening to them. Let’s see them try to brainwash him when he's starving himself.

Marina looks annoyed, but she doesn't seem to grasp the depths of his dedication yet. He'll starve to death before he joins them.

She seems to understand a bit more when he rejects the food the next day as well. It looks good, and he's damn hungry at this point, but he's not going to let them win.

When he doesn't eat on day 3, Marina sends Claudio after him.

“You need to eat, kid,” he says.

Hook flips him off.

“I do the cooking here. Is there something you will eat?”

Hook just glares, firmly ignoring the twinge of warmth in his chest from the offer.

“This is just weakening you. This stubbornness isn't helping you. No eating. No talking. We want you to be your best self.”

More glaring. They're all the same, saying he should lash out more. He won't listen to them.

“Fine, be that way. We fight your people tomorrow. Let’s see how you're feeling after that.”

He doesn't respond, but a twinge of worry goes through him anyway. Will Joe and Shibata be forced to forfeit without him? Will the Death Riders use his absence to taunt them? Do they even know he's missing?

Moxley answers that question the next day.

“Your father is causing quite the stir,” he tells Hook, soon after another failed attempt to get him to eat.

Hook looks at him, curiosity surging through him. He needs to know anything he can about the things going on outside this basement.

“Yeah, hollerin’ about his missing kid. Most people ain’t takin’ him seriously yet, thinking you're just being you. Wonder how long it'll take for ‘em to figure out you're really gone. Wonder what they'll do once they figure it out. We’re going to stomp your old owners tonight, maybe that'll show you. Maybe then we can start makin’ progress.”

He wants to be angry about the owners’ comment, but he's just scared for Joe and Shibata. They're going into this 3-2, and the Death Riders are bad when it's 3-3, and now because of his stupidity they're going to get hurt.

“We’re heading out. Don't get into trouble while we're gone,” Moxley says, smirking like it's the funniest joke he's ever made.

He hears footsteps on the stairs, four distinct pairs, the slam of a door, and now nothing. They've left him alone in this place.

It's the worst feeling since he's been there, except for maybe his wakeup. There's nothing to distract his mind from coming up with all the worst-case scenarios. Shibata in the hospital, hooked up to a ventilator because they suffocated him. Joe lying on the floor, head cracked open and bleeding. His father, looking for answers about him and finding nothing but The Death Riders.

He's helpless to stop the tears from falling down his cheeks. He yanks on the cuffs with renewed effort, desperately trying to break himself free.

He cries until he can't anymore, then he just slumps, a wounded animal in the predator's den. Then he slumps to the ground best he can, slowly falling asleep.

He wakes to the sound of the door slamming. The Riders congregate, all restless-looking and mean, and they look angrier than Hook has ever seen them. There is a notable lack of title belts around their waists.

Holy shit, Joe and Shibata won! He tries to stifle the excited breath, but it comes out anyway.

Moxley's gaze turns to him, sharp and angry. His tone when he speaks is harsher than he's heard from the other man in a while.

“Oh now, don't look so happy. This ain’t all sunshine and rainbows for you. You've been replaced, puppy, just like that. They've got Hobbs on their team. Couple people round the locker room sayin’ it's a hell of an upgrade. I'm not so sure, but he's given them the upper hand for the time being.”

He'll be the first to admit he doesn't have the greatest history with Will. Team Taz had been great for a while, a place for them all to find their footing. But, like most of Hook’s relationships, it got fucked up by the FTW title. He hasn't spoken to Hobbs in a long while, both of them going their separate ways.

But it's okay. Everything is okay. They had a shot and they weren't going to throw it away just because Hook was missing, and it's not like they could ask him if it was okay?

But why didn't they wait? Are they not worried about him?

Some of the doubt must show, because a nasty smirk crosses Moxley's face.

“Yeah, look at that, pup. You've already been replaced. How long did that take? While you were here, rubbing your wrists raw to try and go help them, they were accomplishing everything you wanted without you.”

He wants to yell at the man but he bites his tongue. He's not going to give these people his words just because they're taunting him. Instead he just flips them off.

Claudio starts toward him but Moxley catches his arm, shaking his head slightly.

“Everything is fine,” Yuta says. “Now we have time. We can take all the time we need to train Hook properly. Then, once he's trained, we can take our titles back.”

“Good. Yes.” Moxley says, beginning to pace. “Wheeler, Claudio, with me. We're going to watch back the show and figure out exactly what went wrong. Marina—”

He gestures at Hook. Marina nods. Moxley, Claudio and Yuta head for the hall, silent and stiff. The loss still hangs heavy over the room.

Once they're gone, Marina approaches.

He knows the routine by now: lets her undo his cuffs, lets her shepherd him to the bathroom and stand in the doorway, back turned. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

God, he looks like shit. His hair is a tangled mess, wild and untamed. He's already starting to lose his tan after days of no sunlight. A thin layer of grime coats his skin. He casts a glance at the shower in the room, but he doubts Marina will let him, and anyway he doesn't want to be vulnerable like that around her. So he lets Marina guide him back out, lets her do up the chains again.

“They won't want you back now,” she tells him when she's done. “What are you, compared to him? You should want to be stronger. We can make you stronger. We can help you rip his head off.”

Then she backs away and leaves, probably to go join the others in their reviews, and he's left alone again.

He should not be left alone with his own thoughts. What if they're right? Hobbs is stronger than him. He's got a better presence, more fans, more support. Clearly he was able to go head to head with the Death Riders and win.

The silence of the room magnifies his thoughts, each one dragging him back to the same truth.

He isn’t enough.

Chapter Text

The routine repeats in intervals he thinks might be days. There are no windows, no clocks, no way to tell the passage of time besides his own brain. All he can do is sleep and think and try to yank his wrists free. They start to bleed at some point, blood dripping down to stain his white tee shirt. 

It’s always the same, Marina lets him free, walks him to the bathroom and waits as he relieves himself and prevents himself from attempting to drown in the sink. Then she drags him back to the room and tries to get him to eat. He's so so hungry, but each time he refuses. He's not burning many calories so he's not in danger yet, but at some point he will be. Then they'll be forced to let him out to eat.

The threat of the taser is enough to keep him from running, but he won’t eat. He refuses. It’s his own way of resisting, of telling them to go fuck themselves without saying a word. He tried to refuse water too but Marina threatened to sedate him and give him an IV if he didn’t drink so water became the only thing he will consume. 

Sometimes the Riders will show up, seemingly at random intervals. Sometimes it's just passing through the room but sometimes they stop in front of him.

Moxley goes off on long rambling speeches about Hook, about his father, his life, his choices. He bites and tears at insecurities buried deep in Hook's chest and in the same breath he offers him a different path, one with the Death Riders. Hook shoves the thought away, afraid to entertain it for more than a second. 

When she’s not letting him out Marina will sometimes just watch him. She’ll just sit on the floor and stare at him. He finds it best to just ignore her and continue his normal routine of staring at the ceiling. She never says anything to him, just watches.

Claudio is much the same as Marina, mostly just watching. He’ll occasionally speak up, mostly just commenting how Hook looks thinner, weaker now than he did before. Hook wants to scream that it's because he's stuck, unable to workout or lift and stubbornly refusing to eat.

Yuta might be the worst of them. Yuta treats him as a friend. Yuta sits, leaning on the wall beside Hook and tells him about what's happening with their coworkers, Hook's friends. How they barely miss him. How so few of them even care that he's gone. 

It's manipulation and he knows it, but they did replace him. Just a few days after he disappeared they brought in someone new to fill his place, and clearly nobody has interrogated the Riders about where he is. Maybe Yuta's words have some truth to them.

No. It's manipulation. He has people who care for him.

It’s been 8 cycles of this, what might be 8 days of silent struggling and trying to resist the various plates of food Marina puts in front of him. It all smells so good but he wont give in like this. He won't listen to Moxley and Yuta. 

Each day he can feel a little bit more of him break. Each day it gets a little bit harder to ignore the food, to keep himself from losing his mind. 

Then the routine breaks. Marina lets him out and walks him to the bathroom, but when they get back she doesn't even offer him food. She just stands there and stares at him, face unreadable. 

He's pondering the reason for this break in schedule when Claudio enters, carrying a bowl. He stops a few feet in front of Hook, sitting so they're nearly eye to eye. Once Claudio is close, Marina takes a step back, turns and heads back into the hall.

“Youre not eating. That needs to change. You are making yourself weaker and that is unacceptable.”

Hook's eyes flick down to what he's holding. It's a plastic bowl of some type of soup, transparent brown broth with chunks of meat and vegetables in it. Hooks mouth waters. No. He's not going to eat their food.

Claudio sets the bowl between them and there it sits, taunting him. 

“I am going to get you to eat. Either you eat willingly or I blend this, hold you down and pour it down your throat.”

The severity in Claudio's voice makes it very clear that the man's not joking. He reaches for the bowl and pulls it towards him. They didn't even give him a spoon. Typical. Claudio smirks.

He bring the bowl to his lips and-

Holy fuck.

It might only be because he hasn't eaten in who knows how long but it's one of the best things he's ever tasted. Once he's started eating he can barely stop. He can feel the warmth spreading though his body, some of the angry fog over his brain finally being pushed back.

He has to bite back a disappointed whine when the bowl is empty. Now that he's eaten something he's somehow more aware of just how hungry he is. He looks at Claudio, trying to not look despite.

“No more food tonight hund, we cant have you making yourself sick,” Claudio says, reaching out to press on Hooks side. Even through the shirt it must be evident that Hook's ribs are more pronounced now.  Hook slaps his hand away. 

“Right, right, no touching,” Claudio laughs, and Hook's face burns, “You want some water?”

He gives a very small nod. 

Claudio reaches behind him and pulls out a water bottle, but instead of handing it to Hook he grabs the discarded bowl and dumps the water into it before handing it to Hook. He has a brief fantasy of chucking the bowl at Claudio but he's too thirsty to waste the water. 

The water, like the food, is gone far too quickly. Claudio laughs again when he lowers the bowl. Now he does throw the bowl. It's not heavy or breakable enough to make a real impact but watching it bounce off the man's skull is sort of satisfying.

Okay. He's got food in him now and Claudio's got his guard down. This is his shot. 

In half a second he's on his feet and bolting for the exit. One step, two steps, three steps-

Then Claudio's hand is wrapped around his ankle and the momentum that was just aiding him is sending him crashing to the ground.

Claudio just clicks his tongue disapprovingly, dragging him across the floor back to his place.

“And that's enough of that,” He says as he rechains Hook, "I'll bring you more tomorrow."

He spits at Claudio as the man leaves but it's hollow. The soup sits warm in his stomach, a comfort he does not want. He shouldn't be comforted by these people. They want to see him break, and slowly they're getting closer. He can't let that happen, no matter how nice the meal was.

Silence covers the room like a blanket once again. Time stretches and shifts and he swears the clock of the universe is moving backwards. 

He wants more to eat. 

He hates being alone so much. 

His shoulders ache from the position they're chained in.

After what feels like forever Marina comes and grabs him to use the bathroom again. She's smirking like she knows about the break in Hook's resolve. She probably does, The Death Riders keep few secrets from each other. 

He wants to punch her but he knows she's itching to use the taser so he holds himself back. He lets her rechain his hands without a fight, lets her run a hand through his ever-longer hair with nothing more than a soft growl.

Then there's another long period where he's left totally alone. He thinks these must be nights, times when all the Riders curl up together and leave Hook to his thoughts. He sleeps during these times as well, feeling just a bit safer when he knows they're all unconscious.

He's not sure how long he gets to rest this time before he's awoken by Moxley's boot bumping his thigh. Fantastic, must be time for another long, rambling speech..

“Come on, rise and shine.”

Hook squints at him and growls at him.

“Come on now, don't do that. Ya know the sooner you give up on this protesting this the sooner we can start makin’ progress.”

Moxley sits down on the floor across from him, a gesture that might be friendly in another universe but now just reads patronizingly, the human holding out his hand for the scared puppy to scent. 

“You know what I see when I look at you, kid?”

And here they go.

“I see a puppy still tryin’ to pretend he’s a wolf. You think hiding under a hood makes you scary? You think sittin’ at Joe’s feet, lettin’ Shibata clean up your messes, makes you a man? No. It makes you a mascot. Something for the crowd to clap at. Taz’s boy. That’s all they see. That’s all you are to them.

And they like it that way. You ever wonder why they never let you run ahead? Why they keep you on the apron till the last second? Its ‘cause they don’t trust you to do it on your own. They don’t trust that animal inside you. They’d rather keep you on a leash, nice and tame. Sweet young Hook. Cute. Marketable. Harmless.

But I’ve seen you fight. I’ve seen what’s under there. You’ve got teeth, and claws, and a rage that burns so hot it scares the hell out of you. And you know what? That’s good. That’s real. You try to bury it, choke it down, pretend you’re something else. That’s why you can’t sleep at night. That’s why you look over your shoulder like the shadows are talkin’ to you.”

Hook squeezes his eyes shut. Mox is a good talker, a good manipulator, that much is clear. He reaches in deep and drags out the parts of Hook that he would rather not acknowledge. It's manipulation, plain and simple, but that doesn't mean it's not effective.

When he opens his eyes he finds two people watching him. Claudio’s emerged from the shadows, eyes fixed on Hook.

He turns his hands in the cuffs and flips them both off.

“This isn't working. At this rate Pac will be healed before he's worth anything and he's losing his conditioning. He's not going to respond to words.”

“Then what do you propose I do?”

Claudio leans forward and whispers something in Moxley's ear.

There's a long pause, then Moxley sighs then looks at Hook like he's considering something.

“Go get Yuta and Marina,” He eventually tells Claudio.

The larger man nods and vanishes into the hallway, leaving Moxley and Hook alone. It's not a rare occurrence at all at this point but something feels different now. Moxley isn't looking at him with the normal frustration. It's something more thoughtful.

Then he approaches, pulling the handcuff key from his pocket. The red flags in Hook’s head get even brighter. It's Marina and Claudio that let him out. Moxley shouldn't be doing this. And why do Marina and Yuta need to be here?

“Get up,” Moxley tells him once he's free.

He doesn't move.

“Jesus fuck, you dont make this easy.”

Then Moxley has his hands under his armpits and he's being lifted to his feet. He stumbles a bit before standing, suddenly face to face with the man. The four inches he has on Hook suddenly feel like a lot more.

“Hit me.” Moxley says. 

Hook almost breaks his silence out of surprise alone. Moxley wants him to hit him. Why? Should he listen? He wants to hit him but this feels like a trap.

He bolts for the hall. 

Into the hall, up the stairs, to the doors, he is so close he can feel the outside air on his face!

The door is locked.

It's locked. 

It's locked and he doesn't have the key.

Then Moxley reaches him, arm wrapping around his middle and dragging him back down the stairs. He lets himself be dragged, shock and pain and grief overwhelming his system. Why didn't he think about the fact that it might be locked? How did he not see this coming? He's so stupid.

Mox deposits him back on the floor of his room with a thud. All the death riders are in the room now, back to the wall, just watching as he's deposited back on the floor. 

“Come on, hit me, pup,” He says.

He bolts again. This time he passes the staircase. There must be something here he can use as a weapon, something he can use to incapacitate the Riders long enough to find the key and get out. They've got to have something. A knife, a bat, something he can use. 

He barely reaches the kitchen before he has to stop. He's lightheaded and breathing hard. The lack of food is hitting him hard now, combined with the fact that he hasn't done anything more physical than walk to the bathroom.

He takes a few more steps into the room, then his knees hit the ground. For a second he thinks he's going to pass out. Then he's faceplanting into Mox’s thigh. Shit. 

Mox clicks his tongue as he scoops Hook up, carrying him back to the room.

“Yeah, Claudio was right. We ain't getting anywhere with you like this. You need to run and fight. You are so like a little wolf. You think you’re resisting me, but really, you’re just proving me right. You’re not ready to walk alone. You need someone to tell you when to fight, when to stay, when to wait. And that someone’s me. The longer you fight it, the uglier it’ll get.”

He tries to ignore Mox's words but they sting. Is that truly how The Death Riders see him? Like someone who always needs someone to guide him? He knows a lot of the roster just sees him as Taz's kid but it still hurts when people bring it up.

Then Mox's hand is in his hair. He waits for it to yank, to drag him back to the chain but he instead just runs his hand through Hook's hair several times. Despite how long and unkempt his hair is after over a week in captivity it feels good. It feels really good. He knows he should resist, roll out of Mox's arms and try to run again but it feels nice. Kind touches are rare here and Mox is so much warmer than anything else he's felt here.

So he relaxes, pressing into the hand slightly. Mox has stopped moving, clearly back in the room but still holding Hook in his arms for some reason.

“See,” Mox says, much less angry now, "Isn't this nice? Isn't this better than pushing us away?”

He snarls and attempts to pull back, out of Mox's arms, but it's so hard to pull away from a kind touch now, when he hasn't felt one in so long. When Mox speaks again it's in the kindest tone Hook has ever heard from him.

“We're trying to make you better, puppy. You've got all this wonderful anger in you and we want to let it out. Just hit me. We won't be mad. We want you to be ours. Stop holding yourself back.”

It's unnerving to see Mox being so kind, so gentle with his hand in Hook's hair. He bears his teeth again, face all pressed up against Mox's jacket but it's halfhearted. 

Chapter Text

He's not sure if this is better or worse than his old routine. On one hand, the long rambling speeches have stopped. He doesn't have to ignore it now, pretend that Mox doesn't have a point. On the other hand this new, kinder side of The Death Riders is painful in a completely different way.

Now every day Mox frees him and attempts to provoke Hook into hitting him, into initiating a proper fight. Each time he is sorely tempted simply for the fact that he's wanted to punch Mox since the beginning of this all but now he knows that's what they want. They want him to lash out in a way he's not supposed to.

So he refuses. He tries to run, get away from them, find a way out. 

It never works. They don't leave weapons out, obviously prepared for Hook to be looking. He can't find a key either, and he has a sinking suspicion that it's on one of the Riders, likely Mox or Marina. He ignores the voice in his head that tells him that if it is he's never going to get it. 

Then, inevitably, he gets caught and dragged back to his room. They usually let him run two or three times before declaring the session a loss. Then he rechained to the wall.

They do this twice a day, he knows that for sure now. They've got a clock in the kitchen. They let him out at 10, then again at five. It's comforting to have something to ground him, to assure him that there is a rhythm to these things that he can figure out. 

He's been getting more food, two meals a day now and large ones at that. They're protein and vegetable heavy, something he might eat on a training plan. He's long stopped resisting the food, telling himself that he needs it to get stronger, to get out. 

They still chain him to the wall whenever they're not trying to get him to fight, but they've lengthened the chain now. He can lay down properly now, curl up into a ball on the floor. It's still far from comfortable but it's better. He can rest properly, sleep deeper and longer than he could before. He knows that there will be a long uninterrupted span after the second time he eats, long enough for him to get a full night of sleep.

Then Marina will wake him, bring him to the bathroom then back again. Soon after that will be round one of what is rapidly becoming the worst game of tag known to man.

The sleep, food and exercise have combined to help him grow stronger again. It's nowhere where he used to be, carefully sculpted from hours of conditioning each day, but it's better. He can run without getting winded. 

Claudio brings the meals each day, complete with a lecture on the details of all the different ingredients and cooking techniques. He thinks the man might just be enjoying having a captive audience to tell about his cooking but it works to ease the sting a bit, dampening the shame of giving in and eating their food. 

Marina remains mostly the same, but maybe a bit softer. Whereas before he got the impression that she actively wanted to tase him, now it feels like she would rather not. Like she's not seeking to hurt him just to see him in pain. 

Yuta is the only one that remains unchanged, still sitting beside him and just talking, sometimes about AEW and sometimes about random other things. He doesn't love listening to Yuta but it's better than silence so he never lashes out at the other man.

In the long silences that stretch between the visits he still has nothing to do but count the cinderblocks and think. There are 416 cinderblocks making up the walls around him, 108 in each wall with 16 less in the wall with the door. 389 of them are completely intact. 24 with minor cracks. 3 in the far corner starting to fully crumble. 

Would they be proud of him if they could see him now? Proud of his defiance? His father would be, proud of his pacifism at least. He's always taught Hook to only fight for a reason, a purpose, never just for the sake of hitting someone. He likes to think that Joe and Shibata would be proud of his unwillingness to bend as well.

But do they even care? He's been gone so long and now they've got Hobbs. Are they even thinking about him anymore?

The thought weighs heavy on him even as he goes back to counting blocks. Maybe he got the number wrong, and if he got the number wrong then maybe he's wrong about other things as well.

“You know,” Yuta says, breaking Hook out of his daze, “It's nice having you here.”

Hook glares. Nice isn't in the first thousand ways he would describe his stay here, but then again Yuta’s not the one chained to the wall.

“I can tell you everything that's on my mind and you just sit here and listen. I mean it's not like you can really do anything else but it's refreshing.”

Hook glares at him. 

“And any time the others would hit me they hit you instead!” Yuta adds. 

Hook just blinks at him, anger beginning to rise in him once again. How dare Yuta be so calm about this all? How can this just be something he accepts? God he would hit Yuta if he could.  

Yuta laughs, “I’m kidding. Sort of. But you’re a person I can talk to where I don’t have to worry that you’ll smack me if I say something stupid.”

“I would fucking hit you if I could,” Hook snarls before he can stop himself. 

They both freeze. Their eyes lock, the tension palpable. The words have the exact opposite effect from what he wanted. Instead of looking even a little upset or angry Yuta looks elated. 

“He spoke,” he yells, jumping to his feet, “I did it! He threatened me!”

Fuck. Anger and fear fill him. How dare he? How dare Yuta bait him into breaking his only shield? He wants to take back the words, swallow them back into his chest.

But it’s too late.

Seconds later he hears footsteps from the hallway. He wishes now more than ever that he could cover his face, hide from the renewed scrutiny that is surely coming. 

He settles for staring down at his feet, even as the tip of Mox's boot comes into his periphery. 

“So you'll talk to Yuta? Interesting. Feel like talking to the rest of us yet?”

He glares up at Mox, trying to communicate the level of anger he's feeling. Mox must understand at least a little because he grins even wider. 

Then he reaches into his pocket and grabs a key. 

Click. 

The cuffs are off.

Fuck it.

Fuck it all, fuck his self control, fuck holding back, fuck Mox and fuck them all. 

He lunges at Mox.

They both hit the ground, in a pile of flailing limbs. His technique is shit but he's not going for proper ring fighting. He wants to hurt Mox. He wants to tear the man apart with his bare hands. He wants them both to die on this basement floor and he wants to live like this forever.

Mox barely defends himself. He just lets Hook swing and swing until eventually Claudio gets his arms under his armpits and lifts him off of Mox. 

But now he's too angry, all his pent up rage exploding out of him. The dam has broken.

He gets his feet under him and spins around, slamming his hands into Claudio's chest. The man stumbles back and Hook takes the opportunity to land an uppercut. Claudio's head snaps back and Hook sinks his fist into his stomach. 

He wants to go further, lash out harder but then there's a sharp collision with the back of his knee and he's hitting the floor, landing hard on his stomach. 

Then Mox is scrambling forward, straddling his back and keeping him pinned to the floor. His ribs scream but he's so amped up that the pain feels good.

“Good job,” Mox mutters into his ear, “Very good job. See? Didn't that feel good?”

Hook wilts, pressing his face onto the floor.

Because yeah, that felt damn good. He's wanted to lash out at them for so long and now he has. But he did exactly what they wanted. In the space of five minutes he's broken every barrier he had left. 

Mox rolls off of him and moves around to his front and tangles his hand in Hook's hair, forcing him to look up at him. His nose is dripping blood down his chest but he doesn't look pained or upset. He looks quite proud. 

“Now the real training starts, puppy. You've done it, you've taken the first step. Now you only gotta let us take the reins. You feel that satisfaction, don't you? You feel that you're like us. We're going to make you better.”

Then Mox stands, dusting himself off like he was just stretching and not getting the shit beat out of him. Hook stays on the floor, not ready to stand yet. Maybe if he just stays here, face buried in the floor then this will have all been a hallucination his mind created to fight the boredom of the basement.

“Claudio,” Mox calls over his head, “Dampen that bleeding then help me get stuff set up. Yuta, Marina, Hook, stay here.”

It doesn't escape him that he's being lumped in with Yuta. It makes him feel strange to be spoken of in the same breath as them, like he's somehow on their level now.

Yuta steps forward from where he had been leaning against the wall and sits down beside Hook, not close enough to touch but close enough that Hook can feel his body heat. 

“Im sorry,” Yuta says once they're left alone, “I know you wanted to stay quiet. But didn't that feel good? Youve wanted to tell us to go fuck ourselves for a while and now you can. Plus I know it must have felt good to hit Mox, you were smiling.”

He narrows his eyes at Yuta, then glances over at Marina. She glares at him. Yuta looks at her, a pleading look on his face. She lets out a long breath, then she covers her ears.

“So what if it felt good?” He asks, "Doesn't mean I'm one of you.”

His own voice sounds strange in his ears, raspy and foreign and not totally convinced of his own words.

“Yeah it does,” Yuta says, voice quiet, “You feel it. That thing inside you that makes you want to hurt people. We all feel it too, that's why we're here.”

“You’re all insane.”

“Welcome to the club.”

He can't come up with any sort of response that doesn't feel like a lie so he just bites his tongue and the room lapses into silence. After a minute Marina seems to realize they're done talking because she lowers her hands and goes back to staring them down.

He's not sure what to do now. Running feels stupid when Yuta and Marina are still watching him but he doesn't just want to lay here until Mox finishes doing whatever he's doing. He doesn't want to obey the man's instructions.

But there's really nothing else he can do. He's tried running so many times. He's so tired of running.

So he just closes his eyes and focuses on the sound of Yuta’s breathing. It's soothing, despite how mad he is at Yuta for making him speak.

Time goes liquid. He's not sure if he truly falls asleep or just gets close. His muscles are starting to ache from the fight, knees and knuckles already bruising. He's long become used to sleeping on the floor but the lack of chains makes him feel a little bit more comfortable and a little less tethered at the same time.

Eventually Mox and Claudio come back, dragging Hook back into the land of the fully awake as they do. Claudio's got a bowl but it looks like one of the ones they give him meals from. Nothing new. Nothing dangerous. Yet Hook still feels like something is wrong. 

He sits up and looks at them questioningly. Claudio offers the bowl and he takes it. It's another soup, this one a light broth with small chunks of green onion in it. 

It feels weird to be eating with all of them in the room but protesting feels childish and pointless. He's already taken food from them a number of times. 

So he drinks the soup and pretends it's not weird that they're all watching him. 

When he sets the bowl down Mox smiles and kneels down so he's eye to eye with Hook.

“Right kid, now it's time for us to start doin’ this properly. You did it. You took the first steps towards bein’ one of us, whether you accept that now or not. That means things are gonna change for you now. We need to train you properly. Get you in ring shape again. You need to know how to fight alongside us, stick by our side when everything is going to shit.”

Hook shakes his head, trying to reject the things Mox is telling him. It's then that he realizes that he's suddenly dizzy.

Fuck, Claudio never told him what was in that soup. 

He looks up at the man, knowing the betrayal must be clear on his face.

“Its not going to hurt you, we promise,” Claudio says, voice gentle like he's trying to soothe a child or a small animal, “This transition will just be easier if you're asleep. You're going to take a little nap and when you wake up you'll be fine. I promise.”

He scrambles back like the dizziness is something he can physically fight or outrun. They're all watching him, although none of them look truly happy to see him panicking.

“Hey,” Yuta calls, voice soft, “Look at me.”

Despite all the shit Yutas put him through today, he looks. Yuta shuffles forward on his knees until he can put his hands on Hook’s shoulders. 

“Breathe. You're going to be just fine.”

He takes a deep gulp of air and Hook copies him. It's getting difficult to stay upright and all too quickly he finds himself tipping forward, pressing his face into Yuta's shoulder. 

The last sensation he's aware of is the soft fabric of Yuta's shirt on his forehead and several pairs of hands rubbing his back.

Chapter Text

He's disoriented when he wakes up. It's darker than before, and warmer. He's lying on something soft and there's something wrapped around him. A blanket. They've given him a blanket. He wraps it tighter around him and looks around.

As his eyes adjust he realizes why it's so dark. He's in some kind of metal box, maybe three feet by four. The bottom’s got a soft cushion keeping him from lying on the cold metal. There's small holes on the sides that let some light in, although it's dark outside too. 

One end has a door, shut and locked tight. That's the thing that makes him realize what he's in.

A dog crate. 

They've put him in a dog crate, one of the heavy duty ones you buy for big dogs that have torn their way out of all the others.

The revelation hits him like a truck, forcing all the air from his lungs. 

The walls feel like they're closing in on him. He shoves off the blanket and pushes it into one corner, pressing back until his back is digging into the wall. His breathing quickens as he presses his hands to the walls and tries to push them apart. 

It doesn't budge. He's trapped, well and truly trapped. 

His face and hands feel like they're tingling as he starts hyperventilating and suddenly he's lightheaded from lack of air. He's all too aware that the crate has holes and he can't be running out of oxygen but he feels like he is.

He has to bite down on his wrist to keep himself from screaming. He tries to stop hyperventilating but that is so much easier said than done. He's helpless to stop the rolling waves of panic. 

He thought things were going to be a bit better. He was getting stronger, he was resisting them. He thought his slip would be fixable. He thought they were beginning to see him like an equal. 

But he's not their equal. He attacked them, he showed his true colors, and now he's in a dog crate.

It takes him what must be an hour to calm himself down. Gasps turn to hiccups which turn to slow breaths. Eventually he just goes limp. 

The exhaustion of his panic seeps into every bone, making it hard to even lift his head. His breath hitches on each deep breath he takes. He can taste iron from where he was biting his hand. He wants so badly to rest. 

But no. He can't go back to sleep. He can't make himself vulnerable. He needs to get out, and he needs to get out now.

He does another scan of the crate. Beside the cushion and blanket he finds a plastic bottle in the corner. A small taste confirms its water but he doesn't dare drink more than that for fear that it's drugged.

Then he sets his sights on getting out. The seams are welded tight, and not particularly well. He suspects the Riders did it themselves. 

Alright, so he's not going to break those. That leaves the door. All the locking hardware is on the outside, no hinges to lift, no lock to pick. How fucking smart are these dogs? 

That means the only thing he can really do is force the door. 

He shoves the cushion to the back to expose the metal floor, giving himself more leverage. Then he slams his foot onto the door, once, twice, then a third time. It shudders but doesn't give much. This is going to take a while.

He gets two more shots in before he hears something. 

“The fuck?” Mox growls, but it's decidedly tired sounding.

“Hooks awake,” Yuta responds, also tired sounding. 

“No shit.”

“Throw a blanket over the crate or something, we're trying to sleep,” Cuts in Marina.

There's some shuffling, then he hears Mox's voice, much closer now.

“Go the fuck to sleep pup, it’s the middle of the night. We’ll let you out in the morning.”

Then everything gets darker. The sounds of the room are muted a bit. They've thrown a blanket over him like he's some sort of parrot. 

The urge to kick and thrash until the whole room can’t sleep either nearly boils over. He wants to hear the crash of metal and their curses when he makes them regret treating him like a fucking pet.

He’s about to say fuck it and make even more noise but then he stops to think. The Riders are right here. They haven't dropped him on the side of the highway or something. He didn’t fuck up and make them leave him. In fact, he'd hazard a guess that he's in their bedroom.

Secondly, Mox said they'll let him out in the morning. There's no reason for him to lie about that and Mox doesn't lie to him. 

So he just grabs the cushion and smooths it out, wrapping the blanket around himself. He will admit it's the most comfortable he's been here. The crate feels less hostile now. He hesitates for a second before drinking more of the water. Who cares if it's drugged, he's going to sleep anyway.

—

He wakes up to the sound of the door clicking open. At some point in the night the blanket must have been removed because now light seeps in. 

The door clicks and swings open. He presses against the back wall, unsure of who's going to be there.

Then Mox looms, kneeling in front of the cage.

“Mornin. Have a good night?”

He chucks his empty water bottle at him. Mox just laughs.

“And that's why we gave you a plastic one. You feel like coming out?”

No. No he really doesn't. He's trapped but he's trapped and safe. They can't touch him in here. He's more comfortable than he's been for a long time. What if they try to take it away? He can't let that happen. He shakes his head.

“Okay then. Suit yourself. We’ll be here whenever you decide to come out.”

He waits for the other shoe to drop, for Mox to reach in and grab him and drag him out but he doesn't. He stands and walks away. Hook doesn't hear a door so he assumes the man is still in the room but he's no longer boxed in. The door remains tantalizingly open.

He tucks the blanket around him more and lays back down. He's safe.

He closes his eyes and drifts. He can hear the sound of a shoe tapping nearby, probably Mox keeping watch. The air conditioner hums far off. There are very faint voices echoing from somewhere else in the basement, too far to figure out who it is. 

It's not hard to slip back into sleep. They're not going to yank him out and he's still so exhausted from the fighting and the panic.

—

He's not sure how long he sleeps for. The only lighting is artificial, still no sun to tell him the time. 

He tosses and turns for a long minute before accepting that he's not going to be able to sleep anymore. He's awake and starting to become restless. He can't properly stretch out, knees kept awkwardly bent. He casts a glance at the open door.

He listens for a long second but he can't hear Mox's foot tapping anymore. Maybe he's alone.

He takes a deep breath and slowly sticks his head out of the crate. 

He was right. The crate is in the corner of the Riders bedroom. It's sparsely decorated, a large bed in the center of the opposite wall. On each side of that is a bedside table with a lamp. There's an alarm clock on the left side, informing him that the time is 2:17 PM. There are also a couple chairs in the room, arranged looking towards the bed.

In one of them sits Claudio. 

He pulls his head back in but it's too late. Claudio definitely saw him.

He hears the man chuckle, then stand. He approaches, leaning down in front of the crate and holding out a bowl. Hook just glares at it. 

Oh hell no, they are not going to get him like this again. For a half-second he pictures grabbing the bowl and smashing it back into Claudio’s perfect, calm face. The image is so sharp it makes his fingers twitch before he digs his nails into his palms to stop himself.

Claudio sighs.

“It's chicken in a honey garlic sauce and steamed broccoli. Nothing is drugged, I promise. I can refill your water as well.”

He reaches for the water bottle, still on the ground where he threw it at Mox, and Hook growls. 

“I’m not going to drug it. We only drugged you because we knew the transition into the crate would be hard for you. The way we did it, you got to rest and we didn't have to force it. And see, you've already accepted that it's safe. You can come with me to fill the bottle if you'd like?”

He considers it for a long second, but he's not ready to leave his safe space. Who knows what's going to happen when they get him out. He’ll just have to drink the water slowly and be vigilant.

Claudio grabs the bottle and steps out of Hook's view, leaving the food a few feet outside the crate. 

Hook turns his back and ignores it. It’s hard, hunger gnawing at his stomach but he's done this before. He just rejected food for over a week. He can ignore this meal as well.

At some point Claudio returns, placing the water bottle next to the food. Then he retreats back to his chair. Hook doesn't dare stick his head out again, instead resorting to counting the holes on the crate. 

136 per wall, less on the doors. Somewhere around 400 holes in he loses count and has to start over. The smell of the food is distracting. God he needs to stretch.

No. Start over counting. 167 per wall. 150 in the back. He can't see the door, it's too wide. 484 on the three walls he can see.

Fuck the food smells good. 

Then voices outside distract him. 

“He eating?” Yuta asks.

“He’s not,” Claudio says. Hook hates people talking about him like he's not here.

“Mox wants you, I'm tagging you out,” Yuta says. 

“Alright. Good luck,” Claudio says. 

There's some shuffling and footsteps, then the room quiets again. He should try to rest, to meditate, but he's angry and distracted. They're taking shifts. They're babysitting him.

“You should eat,” Yuta says after a couple minutes. 

“Why, so you can drug me again?” He mutters.

“Because we've established that hunger strikes get you nowhere and we want you to get stronger.”

There's some shifting, then Yuta sits down, leaning on the bed opposite the crate door. He's far enough that Hook’s not boxed in but close enough that they can make eye contact. Hook looks away first. 

“Here,” Yuta sighs. Then he grabs a piece of chicken and eats it. Hook glares harder. Yuta takes a sip of the water as well before pushing both towards Hook.

“Would they even tell you if it was drugged?”

Yuta thinks for a second.

“Probably not. But then we could dramatically pass out together.”

It's so stupid that Hook can't help but let out a small laugh. Then he grabs the bowl and starts to eat. Dammit, Claudio is such a good cook. The food is gone before he knows it.

“Aye, progress!” Yuta says.

“Shut up.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Yuta is quiet for approximately two minutes.

“So you want to go to the bathroom?”

Hook sighs. He really doesn't want to listen to Yuta but the opportunity to stretch and pee is something he can't pass off.

“Fine.”

It's a fight to get himself out of the crate. He's terrified that they'll close him out now that he's out. He's not going to get his blanket back, they're going to rechain him, he's walking into a trap.

Yuta offers him a hand and helps him climb to his feet. He takes a long moment to stretch, shoulders and knees popping as he does. Then the two of them slip out of the hall and to the bathroom. 

“I'll wait outside if you want to shower?” Yuta offers. 

Hook freezes. This has never been an option before. There's always been the threat of Marina looming in the doorway, always the implication that he needs to get out as fast as possible. He catalogs how grimy he is, how unkempt and oily his hair is, how he feels so weighed down and gross. 

He nods quickly.

Yuta smiles, “Alright, there's soap and shampoo and stuff in there already. If you need anything just knock on the door.”

Hook nods, slipping into the bathroom and shutting the door. It's weird, shutting the door, like he's committing a crime but nothing happens. After a few deep breaths he walks over and turns the shower on, stripping as the water comes to a decent temperature.

The feeling of warm water after weeks of nothing is an almost holy experience. His knees nearly buckle as the dirt of the basement swirls down the drain. The soap and shampoo aren't great, store brand stuff scented a generic “Clean,” but it's so much better than nothing.

He spends a long time trying to detangle his hair. It's the longest it's ever been, near matting in the back. He manages to get it mostly untangled but there's nothing he can do about the length. 

He's also starting to grow a patchy beard. There's a reason he's never grown out his facial hair, and it's because it looks like shit. It takes forever to grow and it grows in all uneven. He needs to get this shit off his face.

He gets out of the shower, intent on looking for a razor, and freezes. His clothes are gone. In their place is a neatly folded pile of clothes that are definitely not his. They're simple, socks, underwear, black cargo pants and a white tee shirt.

Frustration fills him but it's not exactly like he can march out there naked so he pulls on the clothes before opening the door, expecting to see Yuta. Instead he sees Mox, leaning against the wall across from the door. He straightens up when he sees Hook.

Hook glares at him best he can, trying to convey the question without talking. Hes not fucking talking to Mox.

“Your clothes are in the washing machine,” Mox says, seemingly unperturbed by the hostility, “They were covered in as much blood and dirt as you. Speakin’ of that, we need to properly bandage those wrists. You've done a great job of manglin’ yourself.”

He holds up a first aid kit. Hook takes a step back before thinking. He can leverage this. He has something he wants, and Mox needs to do something to him. 

He tilts his head and rubs at his shitty beard. 

“I’m not giving you a razor,” Mox says.

Hook glares, then puts his hands behind his back. 

“I'm not giving you a razor but I’ll help you shave it.”

Okay. Progress. He can deal with that.

He did not think about the fact that he was letting Mox very near his throat with a blade until he's sitting on the bathroom counter with Mox standing between his legs, very much in his personal space. He feels like an animal backed into the corner, nothing to do but freeze and hope the predator decides not to bite. 

Some traitorous part of him wonders what it would feel like to turn the blade back on Mox. Just one quick slip and he could paint the sink red. The thought jolts through him before he can shake it off, leaving his pulse racing with more than just fear.

He stops breathing every time the razor nears his throat but to Mox's credit, he doesn't slit his throat. He actually does a pretty good job. 

“Alright, wrists.”

Hook holds out his hands, letting Mox spread ointment on the cuff marks and hand bite before wrapping them tight in white bandages. 

Mox smiles and taps him on the cheek a few times when he's done. 

“Right, Swiss and I are sparring. Come watch or go back to your crate.”

Hook freezes. 

That's a choice. They're giving him a choice.

Mox turns and heads down the hall like he didn’t just fuck with Hooks perception of everything.

What should he do? His instincts are screaming at him to go back to the crate, go back to where he knows he's safe and comfortable. But he’s curious. He's never seen The Death Riders spar before. 

And he doesn't want to go back in now that he's out. 

Maybe he can go watch, just for a bit. They probably won't even notice him. 

So he follows Mox quietly, ready to duck back if Mox turns around. But he doesn't, he heads straight for one of the rooms on the left of the kitchen.

It's the biggest room he's seen so far, clearly some sort of gym. The center is clear and that's where Mox and Claudio stand, face to face. 

In one of the corners Marina is working at a punching bag, seemingly completely ignoring everyone else. Yuta is nowhere to be seen. 

Hook slips into the room, pressing his back against the wall and edging along until he's halfway behind a weightlifting rack. Then he sinks to the floor, crossing his arms and placing them on his knees. He rests his head and just watches.

Chapter Text

He watches the Death Riders spar for hours.

Watching Claudio and Mox spar is damn near awe inspiring. They're both impressive fighters, the kind you can watch for hours. He's never been allowed to just watch them fight before. They throw themselves at each other like they want to mangle each other yet each time they break apart they're smiling. It's a bit like Joe and Shibata but wilder. 

At some point Marina steps back from the punching bag, stretching before joining Mox and Claudio. For a second he wonders how they're going to factor in a girl but she just throws herself in without a second's hesitation.

The addition of a more technical wrestler changes the rhythm of the fight but not the brutality. If he didn't know they were all closer than family he would think they hated each other. They spit and bite and punch. Hook flinches more than a few times. 

Eventually they break apart, sweaty and a bit bloody. They all look so satisfied, happy despite how much pain they must be in. 

“Alright,” Mox says, “You study the cowboys moves, Swiss?”

Claudio nods.

Marina seems to decide she's not going to get anything out of this, grabbing a towel to wipe her face as she heads for the door. 

“Showering!” She calls before stopping in front of Hook. He blinks up at her. 

“Remember to stretch, you've been sitting there for a while.”

Then she's gone. 

Alright then, she's not wrong. He stretches and feels his joints pop. Then he settles back down against the wall. 

When he refocuses on Mox and Claudio they're standing across from each other once again. It takes a minute for him to realize Claudio is doing his best to copy Hangman. His moves, his demeanor, even his body language.

Mox is doing his best to counter the moves, to a somewhat limited degree of success. A part of that might be because Claudio, for all his strengths, is not a very good Adam Page. It's messy and not great but he's got to give them credit, it's a good idea.

It occurs to him that he's probably one of the only people who's ever seen this. How many people have been allowed in this basement? How many people have seen the Riders like this, slowly mapping out moves, trying new things and sometimes failing?

It's intimate.

He shakes his head, trying to clear his mind. These are predators, monsters, people who want to see him broken. There is nothing intimate about them. 

He closes his eyes, leaning his head back to rest on the wall. He thinks about going back to his crate but he has a suspicion that he's going to be forced back in come nightfall so he decides to spend as much time out as possible. 

Then he considers getting up and trying to work out but he doesn't want to push it. They're being really kind right now and he doesn't want to jeopardize that. He's in a nice, safe spot right now. 

That safe spot lasts all of 15 more minutes. 

Then Yuta decides to pop his bubble of peace by sitting down next to him. 

“They’re hot, aren't they?” He asks.

Hook just stares at him. What the fuck? Is this a trap? Are they trying to make him say something stupid or embarrassing so they can use it against him? If he says yes will they use it as ammo later? If he says no is he going to piss them off?

“You're allowed to think they're hot,” Yuta says, seemingly realizing that Hook is close to freaking out, “I think they’re hot.”

“They’re not bad,” he admits under his breath, glancing over to make sure Mox and Claudio are still out of earshot.

It's a little bit stupid to still be clinging to his silence with everyone but Yuta but it's like a security blanket more than anything else, another thing he can cling to. The more boundaries he has, the longer he can keep his head above water. Someone will find him, it's only a matter of time.

Are they even looking?

“So you just watching them to watch or do you want to spar? I'll fight you if you want, or one of them probably will.”

He just looks at Yuta. The kindness is still throwing him. For a second he just thinks, trying to find the hidden meaning in Yuta's words.

“What's going on?” He asks.

“What do you mean?” Yuta responds.

“You kept me chained to a wall for well over a week. Most of you damn near ignored me, and when you weren't ignoring me you got all weird and provoked me. Now you're being all weird and nice. What's changed? What's your goal?”

“You changed,” says a voice from behind him. 

Mox. Shit.

He whips his head around. For two people so big, Mox and Claudio are remarkably sneaky. They're both standing behind him.

And there goes another one of his shields. He can't even be angry about it anymore. This is his fault.

“I've changed?” He asks, aware that he's taking the bait but too curious to ignore it. 

“You have,” Claudio confirms, “It's been interesting to watch, too see you expose the deeper parts of yourself.”

“If I've changed it's because of you torturing me.”

Claudio and Mox both look a bit upset at this. Not angry, just taken aback, like Hook said something that was false in some way. Mox shakes his head.

“Torture? No, what we had to do to you was a necessary evil. None of us enjoyed starving you, keeping you chained like a street mutt but we had too. You were too comfortable. You needed something to drag out that part of you you try to keep hidden. Eventually you did it. You broke through that shell of a man you pretended to be. Now we can treat you right, fix you up and train you better than they ever could.”

“Fuck you, they trained me just fine.” He spits.

“Do you really want to be fine?” Mox asks, “You can be so much more than fine. We see your potential. We want you to be our attack dog. Don't you want that? Don't you want to be powerful?”

Hook splutters but he can't come up with a response. After a second Mox smirks, nods, and turns to leave, Claudio on his heels. Hook can't do anything but sit on the floor, eyes shut. He can't cry if his eyes are shut.  

“You okay?” Yuta asks after a long second. 

“You have me locked in your basement,” He responds, voice trembling slightly. Of course he's not ok. He hasn't been ok in a really long time.

“I know. Mox isn't lying though. We want you to be one of us.”

“Get a new line.”

“You want to beat me up?”

“What?” Hook asks, mildly incredulous. 

“Do you want to beat me up? I've heard it's good for stress relief.”

“Is this another test?”

“Not really. I mean, I want you to embrace the violence as much as everyone else here, but it's also kind of really sad to see you cry. You're like a puppy.”

“If one more person here calls me a fucking dog, I swear to god-”

Yuta laughs, “Sorry, sorry. That probably didn't help. So that's a no on beating me up?”

“I'm tired,” He says, voice quiet. He doesn't like admitting weakness but it's Yuta. He's not going to take advantage of him.

“Yeah, you've been out for a while, lot longer than normal. Let's get you some food then you can rest.”

Yuta stands, then helps him to his feet. He stretches as he does, remembering Marina's words.

Together he and Yuta head for the kitchen. Marina is already in there, sitting at the table and flipping through a book. She looks up when they enter but quickly disregards them. 

“Obviously you're aware that Claudio does the cooking but he's in the shower right now. Dinner won't be for a couple hours but you look like you need to go to bed.”

“Panicking takes a lot of effort,” he mutters.

“Yeah,” Yuta says, “But you don't have to do anything for the rest of the day. We're not going to push you into training, you'll want to on your own at some point.”

“Yuta.” Marina says, tone warning.

“What?” Yuta asks, "I'm reassuring him. He doesn't want to train right now so we are not going to make him. That's all I'm saying.”

That's definitely not all he said and not even half of what he implied but Hook’s not going to argue with him. They're being nice to him and he doesn't want to do anything that might ruin that. He wants them to keep forgetting he's an enemy.

He half pays attention to Yuta as he bangs around the kitchen. Most of his attention is focused on Marina. She doesn't seem to be a threat right now but turning his back to her still feels risky. They're all being too nice. 

After roughly 15 minutes Yuta sets a plate down in front of him with a look of victory on his face. On it sits a mildly burnt and overfilled grilled cheese. 

For a second his apprehension about eating comes back but this time he actively pushes it away. Yuta made this in front of him, and even though he wasn't paying attention he doesn't think he would risk getting caught like that.

So he eats the grilled cheese and drinks the glass of water Yuta offers as well. It's really not bad when you're not eating a burnt bit. Yuta watches him eat with a small smile on his face.

“Yeah, I'm over the hunger strike, great victory to you.”

“Its nice to see, you could use some more meat on you. You're getting pretty small. Those are my clothes and they look a bit loose on you. You're supposed to be bigger than me.”

He flinches slightly at the reminder that these aren't his clothes. He had almost started feeling comfortable in them, a thing that he absolutely cannot allow.

His overall comfort with the Riders is growing increasingly concerning. That much he is sure of, and he mentally laments as Yuta washes the dishes.

He's growing complacent. He's realized they're not going to hit him so he's let his guard down. He absolutely cannot do that. This is only the next step in their plans, Mox said it himself. He cant let that happen. He needs to figure out a way to get out, to fight, to get back to the people who really, truly care about him. Joe, Shibata, dad.

He hopes they miss him as much as he misses them.

After Yuta is done cleaning, they head back to the bedroom. Seeing the dog crate helps ground him. These people aren't in any way kind. They are making him sleep in a dog crate. He is a dog to them. 

He goes into the crate willingly. It feels like it would be more humiliating to be forced in. At least this way he can pretend he had a say in it. 

“It's still afternoon so I'm not going to lock you in yet. That's only for nights when none of us are awake to stop you from doing something dumb.”

He just nods. Now that he's in, most of his humiliation is gone. Instead he's just grateful to be back in his safe space.

He just lays there for a long time. Now that he's in his crate he can't sleep. His mind is tired, panic and confusion wearing him down, but his body is still very awake. Maybe he should have taken that offer of sparring.

No. They wanted him to so he wont. Nothing they want for him can be good. 

He waits until Yuta is out of the room before he slips out of the crate again. He barely remembers his old exercise routine and he doubts he’s strong enough to do it anymore but he can do the basics. Pushups, situps, crunches and the like. 

He stops and dives into the crate every time he hears someone in the hall but nobody enters the room for a long time. He's able to get through a good few rounds of working out before his body starts to give out. Like he suspected, it's nowhere near what he used to be able to do but it's still something. 

He's not weak. 

But as he lays back down in his crate, reality sinks in. He's not working out, barely leaving his crate. He hasn't fought anyone in what feels like forever. If he got in the ring right now he knows he would lose embarrassingly quickly. 

He also needs a key to get out. He's been in every room in the place and seen nothing so it must be on one of them. He needs to get close to them in order to get it.

All of this brings him to one conclusion.

He has to accept the Riders offer of sparring.

Chapter Text

He wakes earlier than the Riders the next morning. It’s a consequence of going to sleep early, he supposes, but that's what he wants. He needs time to plan.

Night is the optimal time to make his escape. It's the only time they're all asleep, the only time he doesn't have a babysitter. He has no idea what he's walking into once he gets out. He needs time to figure things out once he gets out.

But leaving at night puts another obstacle in his path. The crate door. They lock him in at night. He needs some way to get out.

An examination of the locking mechanism gives him a few hints. The hinges themselves are on the outside but a part of the lock is on the inside. There are a few screws. If he can get them off he can pop the lock open and disable it from the inside.

So he needs the key to the outside door and a screwdriver. 

The key is on one of them, so sparring is his only option there. He's going to have to use pickpocket skills he doesn't have to get it off them. 

That just leaves the screwdriver. They've got to have a screwdriver around here somewhere, right?

Alright, sparring normally takes place in the afternoon, which leaves his morning to get the screwdriver. Where would they keep a screwdriver? A kitchen drawer?

He thinks through the plan until the Riders wake up and let him out.

“Food or shower first?” Claudio asks.

“Shower,” he says. He doesn't want to be in the kitchen with all the others, that will make searching much harder.

His second shower is slightly less holy than the first, but the peace the rushing water brings is still very much appreciated. The steam feels nice in his lungs, cleansing.

When he gets out he's met with another set of Death Rider clothes, same cargo pants and shirt, just a clean version now. He's sure his clothes must be out of the washing machine by this point but he honestly doesn't hate the cargo pants and tee. They're comfortable at least.

When he exits the bathroom Yuta is there. Alright, the kitchen is probably mostly empty now. 

“Food?” Hook asks.

Yuta smiles at him and he feels a sudden stab of guilt. He knows he shouldn't feel guilty for lying to Yuta, the man is helping hold him hostage, but he does anyway.

Together they head for the kitchen. Thankfully there is no one else there when they get there. 

While Yuta starts working on the food Hook tries to discreetly look through the drawers under the counters. 

It's nearly impossible. They make noise when they open, enough that it would alert Yuta. Is this it? Does he need a new plan? Has he already been foiled?

He quietly panics the entire time Yuta cooks, trying to think of excuses to search the drawers but nothing comes to mind. Eventually he's forced to return to the table and accept his loss.

Soon Yuta joins him, setting down two plates of fluorescent orange mac and cheese. 

“Dont tell Claudio, he thinks this is beneath us and unhealthy,” Yuta says, laughing, “Unhealthy definitely, but everyone needs crappy comfort food sometimes.”

Hook freezes. He sees his chance. 

“Silverware?” He asks, then before Yuta can respond he steps over and tugs open several of the drawers. 

He scans the drawers, desperate. He has only seconds to find it.

Drawer one, nothing, drawer two, more nothing. Drawer three, screwdriver. Bingo! He has to be careful to not let his excitement show on his face as he spots the blue and silver item.

“That drawer,” Yuta says, pointing to an unopened drawer,  seemingly totally oblivious of Hook's discovery.

“Right,” Hook says, opening the correct drawer. He grabs two forks before closing the drawer. Then he closes the other drawers, leaving the screwdriver drawer cracked open.

They don't talk much as they eat. Yuta seems comfortable in the silence and Hook is stuck thinking about how to get the screwdriver to his crate.

In the end it's so much easier than he expects. Yuta starts doing the dishes and the running water provides the perfect cover for the sound of Hook slowly opening the drawer fully, tucking the screwdriver into his pocket.

“Can I go grab my water bottle?” He asks, “I want to wash it.”

Yuta thinks for a second before nodding, “Quickly. I'm not supposed to let you be alone.”

He nods in acknowledgement, hurrying back to the bedroom as another wave of guilt crashes through him.

When he gets to the crate he moves quickly, tearing a small hole in the lining of his blanket and tucking the screwdriver in. It's not the most hidden thing in the world but it's better than just leaving it out.

He returns to the kitchen and hands the bottle to Yuta, who washes it immediately. 

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

They go quiet for another minute, then Yuta looks at him hopefully.

“So you thinking about actually participating in training today, or are you just going to watch again? No judgement either way.”

He takes a deep breath before speaking.

“Yeah. I'm going to participate today.”

Yuta looks elated, like Hook just gave him a gift.

“Fantastic!” He says, “Just let me finish these, then we can go meet the other in the gym.”

Yuta nearly breaks the water glasses in his haste to get done faster. Hook ends up joining him to help solely because Yuta is going to break something and cut himself at this rate.

They finish drying the dishes in record time, then they're off to the training room, Yuta almost dragging Hook.

When they enter the room the rest of the Riders are already there. Marina is off to the side, Mox and Claudio in the center of the room. They all look like they're waiting.

Yuta peels off, heading towards Marina but Hook just knows he's supposed to go to Mox and Claudio. He feels almost drawn to them.

“Alright pup, we're just sparring today. We want to see what you can do, no rules, no regulations.”

Mox steps onto the raised mat and after a second Hook realizes that he wants him to follow. Mox stops in the middle of the mat, stretching as he turns to look at Yuta.

“Fight dirty, welpe, we certainly will,” Claudio calls from where he still stands.

Well that's reassuring.

They circle each other. It suddenly occurs to him that this plan involves fighting Jon Moxley, a universally agreed upon stupid decision. Ah well, too late now.

He leaps forward, trying to get Mox on his back foot. It works for a second but then Mox rights himself, landing a heavy blow to Hooks temple. Hook responds by poking him in the eye.

“Oh, so we’re playing dirty?” Mox asks, sounding absolutely delighted.

Things go downhill from there. In Hook's defense, Mox bites him first. He's just reciprocating. The taste and feel of blood and skin in his mouth isn't foreign, but now it feels better, more wild.

Oh god, he's having fun.

Then he feels it. It's in Mox's left back pocket, a small metal item.

A key. 

It must be the door key!

He has to get it away from Mox.

Thankfully it's not a very hard thing to do. They're all over each other, grabbing and clawing and smothering. It's not difficult to plunge his hand into Mox's pocket and grab the key, hiding it in his palm before yanking his hand out, kicking Mox in the knee to bring the man down

He rolls away from Mox, blindly dropping the key into his pocket. He doesn't even look down. He can't have them getting suspicious. For a second he and Mox right themselves, circling on the mat.

He can feel the new weight in his pocket.

He has it!

He has the key!

He should back off. He did it, he completed his goal. He has no reason to keep fighting now.

But it feels so good. He's having fun, he's getting stronger. He doesn't want to stop. He doesn't want to lose this violence just yet.

So instead of pulling back, claiming tiredness or injury, he surges forward again, trying to grapple Mox once again. They go down in a pile of swinging fists and knees again. 

He doesn't want to think about how long he spends training with them. At some point Claudio tags Mox out. For a long second he just watches Hook, like he's giving him the option to continue or opt out. 

Hook charges.

Claudio fights nothing like Mox. Mox is strong, yes, but he fights like a wolf or a lion, holding down and biting and crushing. Clauido fights like nothing Hook knows. He grabs and throws and slams, seemingly exerting no effort. Hook isn't massive, but he's not small either. He's not used to being tossed around this easily.

There's a certain satisfaction to be gained when he gets a hit in though, when he forces Claudio to put him down or lands a hit that makes the bigger man flinch. He has to resort to his teeth and nails to get results, breaking skin to draw copper tasting blood. 

He can feel Mox, Yuta and Marina watching, Yuta and Marina seemingly abandoning their training to watch. He's used to the feeling of all of them looking at him but it's still a bit offputting.

One of them lets out a low whistle when he lands a solid hit on Claudio's knee and he feels a stab of pride. He thinks it might have been Yuta or Marina but in the heat of the fight they all blend together in his mind. One entity intent on absorbing him as well. 

He wishes he could do this forever, exist in this state where he doesn't need to think about anything but dodging and hitting. Where he can pretend he doesn't know how much danger he's in.

But eventually the bubble bursts. Eventually he's planted hard on his back and he can't pop right back up. The pain that was guiding begins to overwhelm.

They let him just lay there for a long minute, staring at the ceiling. His nose is bleeding, warm blood trailing down his face, running down past his ear. 

“Well done,” Claudio says, but instead of leaving he sits down next to Hook, close enough that his knee is pressing into his thigh. It's only a few inches above the key and his heart skips a beat.

He was stupid. He was so stupid. He had the key that entire time. It could have slipped out at any time and then where would he be?

He did exactly what he tried so hard to avoid. He got sucked in.

That can't happen.

He sits up, ready to rise and retreat to his crate but before he can Yuta sits down beside him, putting a hand on his chest and shoving him back to the floor. Alarms start going off in his head but before he can start freaking out Yuta lays down next to him. He wraps his arm around Hook and tucks him close. 

He freezes for a second but soon he relaxes into it. He tells himself it's because he doesn't want to look suspicious. He can't retreat too quickly.

It's nice. Yuta's body next to his is warm and Claudio is grounding. What's the harm in enjoying it for a little bit before he gets out?

He hears Mox laugh somewhere above them before he too lays down on the mat, stretching his arms and legs with a groan.. He's on Yuta's other side so Hook’s not fully boxed in. 

It soon becomes apparent that they're not going anywhere anytime soon. They all seem content to just rest.

He's starting to accept it when Marina sits down beside his head. 

“Your hair is a mess,” She tells him. 

“I know,” He responds, voice quiet, “Who cares?”

She doesn't respond with words, but she runs her fingers through his hair, combing it with her fingers. His hair is too tangled for it to be a fully pleasant experience but the pain isn't that bad. It's almost relaxing.

He lets himself drift for a while. He should be panicking over how close they are, how much they're touching him, but the key in his pocket reassures him. 

He's close to the end. 

He can get out. 

But he can rest like this now, just for a bit.

—

He wakes up in the crate, door closed and locked.

Fuck, he fell asleep on the floor. 

He sits up and surveys his surroundings. It must be early in the night, surely not past one or two. He's rested but not that rested. The closed crate and the sounds of deep breathing tell him all the Riders must be asleep.

A panicked pat down of his pockets reveals he still has the key. A check of the blanket reveals the screwdriver. 

He did it! He has everything he needs.

In the corner he finds his refiled water bottle and a plastic container. Cracking it open he finds half a pork chop and green beans. Oh good, dinner.

He eats as he mentally prepares himself for what's to come. He has to admit the food is still really good. He's going to miss it.

No. No he's not. He's not going to miss any of this. This is hell. This is torture. These people don't genuinely care about him. This is just manipulation.

When he's eaten and drank everything he can no longer stall. He closes his eyes and listens. It takes him a long time to pick out each individual breath but eventually he does. Four people breathing deeply, clearly dead asleep. 

He can do this. He just has to be fast.

With a screwdriver the crate lock is almost child's play. Dog crate manufacturers were apparently not prepared for a dog with a screwdriver and opposable thumbs. It feels odd, breaking the thing he thought of as home, but it's necessary.

He swings the door open slowly, careful to not let it bump against the rest of the crate. The sound of metal on metal would surely give him away.

He slips out slowly, not even daring to stretch. He thinks even the sound of his joints popping might wake them. 

And there they are. They're all curled impossibly close together on the bed. Yuta and Mox are in the middle and he can barely tell whose limbs are whose. Claudio is curled around Mox, one hand stretched out to rest on Yuta's waist. Marina is sprawled on the other side, half on top of Yuta, face turned to Mox.

He watches them for longer than is smart. It's the calmest, softest he's ever seen them.

Then he slips out of the room and heads for the stairs. 

Chapter Text

His heart is in his throat as he climbs the stairs. Every tiny creak and groan makes him flinch, ready to turn and fight for his life. 

But there's nothing, nobody but him. 

He expects the key to not work because there's no way it's this easy, right?

But the key turns. 

The lock clicks. 

The door swings open.

For the first time in months he's met with the outside air. It's warm but not overly so, a mellow summer night. It's too clouded over to see stars but he can see the light of the moon shining through. It looks like he's in a suburban neighborhood, trees and fences surrounding him. 

He takes a deep breath, clear, crisp air chasing away the staleness of the basement. His socks are immediately wet, shoes a luxury he didn’t have time for. 

What should he do now? Just run? Find a gas station or a store and use their phone? Bang on doors until someone wakes up and finds him?

He should get away.

He takes a step. Then another.

Then he stops.

Doubt claws at the corners of his mind but he can't pin down why. He should run. 

Why does running feel wrong?

He takes a step back, then steps forward again. The fear intensifies. 

What the fuck is wrong with him? He needs to get out, get away, get back to Joe and Shibata, to his father!

He takes another step forward, then the doubt rises in him.

But what if they don't want him back? They have Hobbs now. They're champions now. They don't need him. Will they even take him back?

His thoughts begin to spiral.

What if he's broken now, ruined by the Death Riders forever?

He enjoys the violence, enjoys fighting Mox. He's fallen asleep curled at their sides. He's eaten their food and let them close enough to slit his throat. 

For a long second he's lost in the memories, soft touches and voices and punches thrown. All the feelings he's felt in the past weeks that he's never felt before.

He's been their dog. Can he ever get rid of that weight? Can he go back to sleeping in his massive bed alone? Lose the touch, lose the praise, lose this understanding of who he is? If he destroys this now will there ever be people who understand him like this again?

Will he ever be human again?

Does he want to be human?

He slumps to the ground almost unconsciously, knees hitting the wet grass. His pants are immediately damp but he can't even care. He brings his arms up to wrap around his chest, trying to hold himself together. This is the wrong time to be breaking down.

But he can't help it. All the fear and doubt that he's been pushing down is racing back. He can't get enough air in his lungs. His world feels like it's falling apart.

He presses his forehead to the cool ground, trying to suck in air. He's never felt smaller, stupider. All this work just to stop in the doorway. Why is there doubt in his head? He should hate these people. Why doesn't he hate them anymore? 

The tears running down his face join the dew of the grass. He's shivering despite the warmth of the summer night. 

He tries to take a deep breath, to calm down and think properly, but all he can do is let out another long sob. 

He's not sure how long he stays there, grass tickling his face, before he feels a hand on his back. 

He jolts, whipping around and ending up on his back, staring directly into Mox's face. 

Fuck. 

Mox doesn’t look like he’s about to hit him but he can’t help but flinch. 

He needs to run. He needs to run right now. 

He doesn’t run. He just keeps staring at Mox. 

Mox sighs, then pats the space on the ground beside him. It’s a terrible idea to listen and sit down next to him. 

He straightens up and sits next to Mox. 

They sit side by side for a long time. The dew soaks into their pants but it feels like the least important thing in the world. He probably should be afraid of Mox right now but he’s not. 

“You tried to run,” Mox says, but it isn't angry like he expected. It's curious, like he's genuinely asking, “You tried to leave.”

“I don't think I can,” He whispers. It scares him to say but he can’t think of anything else to say. 

Mox just nods, watching, waiting for him to go on.

“I’m not me anymore,” He says, voice so quiet that he has no idea how Mox hears it.

“Yes you are,” Mox says, “Why do you think we chose you? All the lost children in that locker room and we chose you. It's because this is who you've always been. You just couldn't see it. We had to teach you. We had to break the prison they built around you.”

“They wanted the best for me,” he says. It might be stupid to argue with Mox now but he can't keep any of it inside him. He needs to get it all out of him now. 

“They wanted the best for them. You were an asset to Joe and Shibata, purely disposable. The new blood to color their legacy with. Your father wanted the best for his son, his legacy. Powerful enough to get some cheap glory but not powerful enough to recognize your own power, build your own self beyond him.”

“Right, and your motives are so pure,” He scoffs. It sounds weak, even to him, but Mox humors it anyway. 

“Oh no, we're being selfish too. We want you by our side just as bad as they do. The difference is we’ll let you be yourself. We’ll let you bite and claw and punch all you want. We see what they try to bury. We can let you loose, puppy.”

One of Mox's hands comes to rest on the back of his head, gently scratching. It feels really nice. 

He punches Mox in the gut.

They're in shitty positions for wrestling but they try anyway. It's a mess of elbows and knees and teeth with all the grace of a bowling ball falling off a cliff but it feels like a release, like the breath he's been holding for so long has been forced out of him. 

He can't get Mox into a proper grapple, a proper submission. It's not their normal style, more like a parking lot brawl. Mox doesn't hold back either, definitely landing more hits. The pain feels strangely nice. 

Eventually Mox’s teeth sink into the back of his neck and he can't do it anymore. He goes limp. 

Mox stops fighting when he does. They just lay there, Mox mostly on top of Hook. He can feel the man’s heartbeat everywhere, pressed to his back and against his throat and deep inside his chest. It’s soothing. 

“What do you want from me?” He asks, voice soft and trembling.

Mox shifts until he's laying beside Hook, not on top of him. He reaches out and wraps around him, dragging him close. Hook lets him.

“I told you, I've been telling you, we want you with us. Think about it, puppy. We've been taking care of you. We've been teaching you. We're never going to force you to hold yourself back. You can be one of us.”

Hook closes his eyes and just thinks. He thinks about how close all the Riders are. Thinks about them all curled together, completely trusting each other as they sleep. Thinks about all the soft moments that he's been a spectator to.

Damn it, he's crying again. Did he ever stop?

He takes a deep breath, trying to pull away from Mox. He lets him go without a fight. They both stand, wincing a bit from their new injuries. 

For a long moment they just stare at each other, tears still clouding Hook's vision. 

A car door slam breaks them out of their trance. They both look across the yard, past the house to the street, where a figure is climbing out of a car. A neighbor, returning from a late shift or a visit to a friend. 

This is it. Hook could run now, run and yell and get their attention. Even if Mox chased him he would be able to get their attention before he was caught. They would call the cops or try to intervene and he would be saved.

He thinks about it, thinks about being bundled into the back of a police car and brought back to his father. Going back to training with Joe and Shibata, fighting by their sides. Pushing down the anger that now fills him. 

He watches as the neighbor closes their car door, grabs their bag from the backseat, walks up their front walk, turns their key in the lock. 

He flinches as the door across the street slams closed. Then he turns back to Mox.

The man is looking at him with a look of deep pride on his face, like Hook did something really right. Maybe he did.

Mox beckons him and before he can even think about it he's taking shaky steps forward until he's almost collapsing into Mox’s arms. Mox's arms are tight around him but they don't cut off his breathing. They almost make it easier. 

“I'm sorry,” he mumbles into his soft shirt. 

“It's alright, you're making the right choice now. You did the right thing,” Mox says, petting his hair.

He's aware that his tears are creating wet spots on Mox's shirt. It's embarrassing but he can't bring himself to pull away. 

“It’s one am, pup, we should go to bed,” Mox says eventually. 

He knows. He didn’t get nearly enough sleep and the crying has stolen most of the rest of his energy from him. He needs to go to sleep.

But he doesn’t want to let go of Mox, go back to his crate. It’s safe, sure, but it’s lonely. Mox is solid and warm. 

He tightens his grip, trying to bury himself deeper into Mox. 

“Okay, okay, I’m not going to leave you. I’ve got you.”

Mox reaches down to Hooks thigh and pulls, gently tugging. After a second he gets the memo, hitching his legs up to wrap around Mox’s waist. 

Mox heads down the stairs, only stopping to close the door behind them. The click of the door feels like a gunshot in his mind, but he’s less scared now. 

He made this choice. 

He feels a little stab of guilt when Mox pats his pocket, looking for the key. He shifts his hip so Mox’s hand land on the key in his pocket. 

“I was wondering where that went,” Mox mutters, “I thought you picked the lock.” 

“You shouldn't spar with a key in your pocket.”

Mox laughs and Hook can feel the rumble in his chest as well. It’s calming, like the purr of a cat. Or maybe a tiger?

When they get back to the bedroom Hook tenses up. This is it. Mox is going to put him back in the crate and tomorrow he’s going to have to wake up and realize what he’s done. 

But Mox doesn’t move towards the crate in the corner. Instead he just flops onto the bed, dragging Hook with him. Soon they’re both nestled in the center of the pile.

For a second Hook tenses up, too surprised to do anything but blink. But nobody reacts, or acts like anything is amiss at all. 

So he relaxes into the warmth. Mox gradually releases him, letting him sink into the bed. It’s a wonderful feeling, being able to stretch his legs out in bed.

“Pants and socks off,” Mox whispers, clearly conscious of the fact that they’re supposed by people sleeping, “no wet clothes in bed.”

Being in the Riders bed in only his underwear should scare him, but so many things have already scared him so he must just be out of fear. 

Once his wet clothes are removed Mox tugs the blanket over both of them, enveloping them in the heat of the rest of the Riders. Mox is on one side of him, still pressed to his side. Claudio is behind Mox, dead to the world and snoring like a faulty chainsaw. 

Yuta is on his other side, only now starting to stir from all the movement. A hand comes up to sleepily palm at his face. 

“Hook?” Yuta asks, confused and tired sounding. 

He’s not sure he can speak anymore so he just presses his face to Yuta’s shoulder and nods. Yuta seems to accept it, reaching out to wrap around him. 

“Should have warned you,” Mox laughs quietly, “kids an octopus.”

“Am not,” Yuta mutters, then immediately proves Mox right by wrapping even tighter. 

Hook doesn’t mind it. The pressure on all sides ground him, convincing him that this is real, he’s really there and safe. 

“What’s going on?” Marina asks, sounding like she just woke up as well, probably a result of Yuta’s shifting. 

“Hooks here,” Yuta responds, sounding very smug. 

“Great,” Marina says, still very tired sounding, “And it’s almost 2 in the morning. Hook will still be here in the morning, right?”

“Yeah,” Hook whispers, just loud enough for the rest of the Riders to hear, “I’ll be here in the morning.”

Chapter Text

Waking up the next morning is surreal. He almost expected it all to be a dream. He's going to wake up back in his crate, screwdriver poking him in the side. 

Instead he wakes up on top of Yuta. 

They must have rolled in the night because Yuta's chest is acting as his pillow now. Marina is right next to them, Yuta's arm around her shoulders. Mox is on the other side. He's awake and sitting up, but he looks like he's thinking hard, or maybe meditating. Claudio is nowhere to be found. 

He lifts his neck and rolls his head a couple times, blinking in the morning light. His movement alerts Marina that hes awake and she lifts her head.

“Good morning,” She says, like this is just a completely normal morning.

“Pinch me,” He mutters, then feels stupid for it. 

Marina grabs his nipple through his shirt and twists. 

He has to tense up to stop himself from whacking his head into Yuta's chest.

“Youre not dreaming,” Marina states, “You did something stupid last night but luckily you stopped yourself before you went through with it.”

“Yeah, thanks, I figured that out,” He mutters sarcastically.

“No more freaking out?” Marina asks.

His immediate instinct is to agree but he doesn't want to lie. He doesn't know if he's going to freak out. He feels more stable than he has in a while but what if that changes. 

Marina sees the conflict on his face and nods. 

“No more running away.” She amends. 

“No more running away.” He agrees. He doesn't think it was a question but he feels like he needs to say it out loud. Maybe confirming it will make the punishment easier. 

“You feel like getting up yet?” She asks. He glances at Yuta, then at Mox. She smiles, “Wheeler won't be up for a while, and Jon will be mediating for nearly as long. ”

He considers staying put, safe in Yuta's arms, but anxious buzzing has filled him. He needs to get up. He needs to move. He needs to figure out what's next.

So he nods and sets himself the task of removing himself from Yuta without waking the other man. It's easier said than done, Yuta is wrapped around him tight. Eventually he manages to make it out by redirecting the octopus to Mox's leg. That can be a problem for him when he stops meditating.

When he finally makes it out of the bed Marina throws a pair of worn black sweatpants at him. They're a bit big, but not big enough to really cause an issue. He just has to roll up the pant legs a couple times.

He follows Marina to the kitchen, where the sound of cooking already fills the air. He's not seen much of Claudio actually cooking so it's fascinating to watch. For such a large man he manages impressive precision and grace.

There's a number of coffee mugs spread out across the counter. Claudio's already drinking out of a sleek black on with a pattern that looks suspiciously like skulls. Marina grabs the blue one with small ocean waves painted on it. There is also a soft grey mug with a red inside, one that looks comically like a Simpsons donut, and a plain white one.

Before he can overthink it, Claudio slides him the white one, already full of coffee. 

“Youll get your own at some point,” Claudio says, and yep, he definitely has little skulls on his mug. Then he hands Hook a plate of eggs and toast and thoughts of tiny skulls leave his mind. 

The eggs are good, really good. He doesn't know what he was expecting. Claudio has proven himself a good cook time and time again. It’s easier to pretend everything is fine when he can shovel eggs into his mouth to avoid conversation. He goes on like that for a solid minute but the curiosity is rearing its head inside of him again. He has questions. He wants to know how much he's allowed to ask. He needs to find out when the other shoe is going to drop.

“Mox doesn't seem like the type of person to meditate in the mornings.” He says. It's not a question, enough deniability that if he's overstepping he can play dumb.

Marina glances at Claudio. Claudio sighs.

“It's habit, left over from an old friend,” He says, lingering on the words old friend. 

Hook knows more than enough of their history to understand the implication. He nods, looking down at his plate. Did he fuck up again? Did he bring up memories he wasn't supposed to? 

“I answered your question,” Claudio says, “if I didn't want to talk about it I would not have said anything.”

“Ah. Right.” He says, taking another bite of his eggs, “I have a panic face, don't I?”

“Your face doesn't give it away, it's the fact that you damn near stop breathing,” Mox says. Hook nearly breaks his neck as he turns to look at the doorway. Mox is leaning there, grinning. After a second he pushes off the doorframe and sweeps into the room, grabbing one of the coffee mugs off the counter, the grey and red one. 

“Mornin’ everyone,” He says, taking a long drink of his coffee. Then he grabs a plate of eggs and sits down across from Hook. 

“Good morning,” he responds softly. He's not totally sure how he's supposed to approach Mox after last night.

“I woke Yuta, he’ll be up soon. He is not a quick riser. Something I've been trying to train out of him but progress is limited.”

He can't stop the small smile that forms at the comment, at the subtle reminder that despite how scary they may seem, the Death Riders are human. They oversleep and get annoyed with each other and he's in their home.

Hook's plate is nearly clean by the time Yuta stumbles in, going straight for the donut coffee mug. 

“It's a bet,” He mumbles when he sees Hook looking at the mug with confusion, "I've got the donut mug and Claudio's got the skull mug. Trying to see who can tolerate it longer.”

“Its been two months,” Marina adds. 

They all laugh as Yuta and Claudio make their way over with food of their own. For a while they all just eat, and Hook can trick his brain into thinking everything is okay. There is no danger, no runaway attempts.

But slowly the scraping of forks ceases, slowly he can feel every eye turning towards him. 

“Youre not in trouble,” Claudio starts and crap. No good conversation ever starts with you're not in trouble.

“We just want to know how you got out and if you're okay,” Marina continues. 

He looks at the table as he speaks, trying to pretend like he's just talking to himself, “I got a screwdriver from that drawer. I used it to break the crate lock. I stole the key when we were sparring.”

He pauses, taking a long breath before he continues, “And I couldn't do it. I can't leave.”

There's a long silence as they all process this, as Hooks admission sinks in.

“So you were just sparring with us for your own gain?” Mox asks. He sounds like he's mostly joking but there's an undertone he can quite place.

“No, I had some fun!” He objects, then wishes he didn't. He should just stay quite.

“We all have our moments,” Yuta says, placing a reassuring hand on his arm, “It took me a while to accept it too.”

“The important thing is you stopped. You came back.” Claudio tells him. 

He blinks a couple of times, nods, but it still feels wrong. He's still waiting for something to go wrong. They're trying to lure him into a false sense of security. Sure they've never lied before but he's never tried to escape before. He wants to scream, to punch and bite until they are honest.

Mox seemingly picks up on this, reaching over to ruffle his hair. 

“Youre not going to relax until we punish you, are you?”

Hook shakes his head. 

“Alright then. Help Yuta with the dishes then meet us in the training room.”

He nods, taking a deep breath. This is something. This is a response.

Yuta helps him gather the dishes and together they head for the sink. Hook takes over the majority of the dishes. Yuta’s been doing the dishes for days. It's the least he can do. 

Plus it's something simple for him to do, something for his hands to focus on to quell his worry. He can do this, it's simple. Water, soap, sponge, scrub, more water, hand to Yuta to dry. He can't mess this one up. The scent of dish soap grounds him.

But eventually they run out of dishes and their calm little bubble breaks. They have to go face the world, face the punishment Hook himself asked for.

Together they head for the training room. He tries to imagine what could be waiting for him but he draws a blank. Are they going to chain him up again, yell at him, stab him?

They're not going to stab him.

Probably.

When they reach the training room he sees that the rest of the Death Riders are already there, standing in a wide circle. Mox gestures him into the room, then waves at the middle of the circle. He steps in, heartbeat thumping wildly. Behind him Yuta joins the circle.

“Say stop when you think he's had enough,” Mox tells the others.

Hook is about to ask when he's had enough of what. Then someone hits him from behind.

It's a solid hit to the back of his neck and he's on his knees immediately.

The Riders then proceed to beat the absolute shit out of him. Blows rain down on his chest, his back, his arms, his head. It's a four on one, nowhere near fair and the only thing he can do is curl up, trying to protect his vital organs and neck.

He thinks they might go until he's unconscious, until he passes out from pain. He wouldn't put it past them.

Somewhere in the back of his head a little voice reminds him that he deserves this, that he wanted this. 

Then everything stops, the blows cease. For a second he wonders if he passed out, but he can still think so that can't be right. He blinks, and through tears he can see Yuta standing right in front of him, leg almost pressing into Hooks side. 

“Thats enough,” Yuta says, “I think he's had enough.”

Mox nods, “Alright.”

Then he punches Yuta in the gut. For a second he just stares in shock as Yuta doubles over beside him. Then Marina's foot connects with his ribs again.

The beating resumes, only now it's Hook and Yuta taking it together. There are fewer blows, and the fact that Yuta is right beside him helps him push, helps him cover and dodge and survive. He looks over and makes eye contact with Yuta and he feels like they are one. They are family. 

Then the beating stops again. Now it’s Claudio standing in front of them.

“He’s had enough.”

This time he can see Mox's punch coming. He's ready for Claudio to join them on the floor. 

He still inhales sharply when the larger man hits the ground. 

Somewhere, deep down, he recognizes that it's three verses two in their favor now, that they could fight back. But fighting back doesn't feel right. He feels like he needs to stay right there with Claudio and Yuta. They're in this together.

They keep going for a long minute, Marina and Mox beating them until Hook is sure he’ll be covered in bruises tomorrow. At some point he must have bit his lip because blood trickles down his chin, dripping onto the mat.

But eventually they stop. Hook takes a deep breath, sore ribs protesting as he does. 

Then there's a hand on his back, guiding his breathing. The breaths slowly come easier. He feels calmer, more free. He got his punishment. He can stop holding his breath.

“Have you learned your lesson?” Mox asks.

“Yes,” Hook sniffs, "I'm sorry.”

“Good. Go wash off your face, then I want you on the treadmill. We're building your muscle back up but your stamina is still concerning.”

He nods and stands, heading for the bathroom. Yuta trails him, blood gushing from his nose. It doesn't feel like he’s being babysit now though, Yuta's presence is wholly welcome.

“You took that well,” Yuta says, voice slightly strange due to the tissues in his nose.

“Thank you. Thank you for standing up for me.”

“Like I said, I was hesitant at first too. You're figuring it out now though. You're on the right path.”

Hook almost giggles. The fact that the right path involves them both bleeding from the face in the bathroom seems strangely entertaining. Yuta must get the joke because he snickers as well. Then he tugs the tissue out of his nose.

“Come on, endurance time,” he says. 

Then he leans over and presses a quick, rough kiss to Hook's lips. His beard is rough but his lips are surprisingly soft and warm. 

Then, before he can do anything more than blink, Yuta’s out of the bathroom, heading back towards the training room.

Now he really does giggle. Fucking hell, just when he though the Riders were past surprising him.

Chapter Text

He should have known that “run on the treadmill” was too easy. Apparently the Death Rider definition of a training run is a near sprint for as long as physically possible, followed by a 10 minute jog, then right back to sprinting. 

Marina and Yuta are both training as well, although much less violently. They're both lifting, quiet conversation passing between them. Hook can't hear what they're saying, heartbeat too loud in his ears.

A couple times his feet tangle with each other and he ends up on the floor. It's more than a little embarrassing but thankfully the others don't comment on it. The most he gets is a mildly amused look from Marina and 

Is this the unspoken second part of his punishment? It might be. It certainly feels like a punishment, but it's also making him stronger so maybe it's not? He guesses it doesn't really matter either way. If they're punishing him then he deserves it and if they're not then he's just getting stronger.

Eventually he trips again and instead of getting up he just lays there. After a minute Marina approaches. 

“Come on, get up, one more time.”

“Im not sure I can,” He groans.

She leans down and grabs him, yanking him to his feet. He stumbles but manages to stay up.

“Thats the point,” She says, “You get to the point where you think you can't go anymore then you go further.”

He sighs but the mentality makes sense. The Death Riders push. They always push. He's got to learn how as well. He needs to understand how they function, how he needs to function. 

So he gets back on the treadmill and starts running again. Yuta and Marina are watching him now and that pushed him to work harder, to go further. He can do this.

He's not sure how long he runs this time. His muscles hurt, he's bruising from his fall and he still hasn't recovered from the morning beatdown. Every step hurts but the eyes on him push him forward. He's got this.

But he can't keep it up forever. Eventually he trips, ending up right back on the floor. He braces for them to tell him to get up again but they don't. They just let him rest on the floor. 

“Ow”

“You did good,” Yuta says.

“Thanks. Is that normal for training?”

“No,” Marina says, “But right now you are weak. You need to be stronger. Once you're on our level this can stop.”

It's definitely an insult, but there is definitely some truth to it. The Death Riders are the peak of strength and endurance and he needs to be better.

Once he's caught his breath he sits up, ready for another round, but instead of directing him towards the treadmill they stop him.

“Go shower dude, you're covered in a concerning amount of sweat,” Yuta tells him.

He's not wrong either. His tee shirt is near transparent and he's more than a little dehydrated. A shower and a rest sounds really good right now. 

—

When he emerges it's Mox waiting for him. He tosses him a water bottle and a protean bar, both of which Hook accepts gratefully.

Mox grins at him, then gestures for the staircase out. 

“Come on kid. You've been wearing Yuta’s clothes for long enough. We need to get you some of your own.”

Hook freezes. They're letting him out of the basement? They trust him to be in public?

“You promised you weren't going to run again and we don't know your sizing for shit. Plus we need to socialize you. It's not good to isolate dogs for this long,” Mox explains.

He rolls his eyes and growls a bit at the metaphor, but he's far past it bothering him. A small part of him even appreciates it. It gives him an identity to cling to in the moments he feels less than human.

Mox grins at him before starting up the stairs.

“Shoes are in the bedroom, grab them then come to the truck.”

“Okay,” He agrees, heading to the bedroom. Just follow the instructions. He can't panic if he just follows the instructions. 

His shoes are there, just like Mox said they would be. He gets a strange feeling in his stomach at seeing them. They are a relic of his kidnapping, of his time chained to the wall. He hates putting them on but it's not like he can go out with no shoes.

Going up the stairs feels strange, but the fact that he has permission is soothing. He's not breaking the rules. He has permission for this.

The afternoon sun is absolutely blinding. He has to put a hand up to shield his eyes. There is no dew on the grass now, and his shoes would block it anyway. He can faintly hear children's laughter from down the street. 

He rounds the side of the house to see Mox leaning against the side of the idling truck. When he sees Hook approaching he straightens up and smiles, opening the truck door and gesturing for him to climb in. He does.

It's odd being in the truck he's seen on the screen so many times. He doesn't know what he was expecting. It's just a car. It smells vaguely like orange air freshener and bleach. 

As Mox drives he stares out the window, watching the world go by. Everything looks the same as when he last saw the sun. A part of him is glad that he didn't miss anything all that significant, while the rest of him curls in on itself at the proof of how insignificant he is.

Mox drives them to a mall. He almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of it. He doesn't know where he thought the Death Riders bought their closets but this was not it. Maybe online? Some wholesale warehouse with 10000 white tee shirts?

This bright, crowded mall is not what he was expecting. Together they step out of the truck and walk to the front door and Hook's senses are immediately assaulted. 

There are people. There are so many people and everyone is talking and moving, seemingly totally ignoring everyone else's personal space. He's always hated the mall but now it's worse. He's more sensitive, probably because of the relative quiet of the basement. 

The voice pipes up in the back of his head again. It tells him to run or scream or create such a commotion that someone calls the cops. They're in public. It would be so easy.

He scans the mall. Sure enough, there's a security guard only a few meters away. Granted, mall cops aren't exactly the pinnacle of safety but it's a cop nonetheless and there are security cameras and people everywhere.

Then he shakes his head and speeds up to walk side by side with Mox. No. Bad thoughts. He's committed to this, committed to the Death Riders. He's not running now. He promised.

A child screeches and he has to suppress a flinch. It's not socially acceptable to cover your ears in public.

“Alright?” Mox asks.

“It's loud here,” He confesses, “I'm not used to it anymore.”

“Cover your ears,” Mox says, like it's the easiest thing in the world.

“Were in public.”

“Fucking and? We beat the shit out of people in front of crowds every week. Who gives a shit if a couple irrelevant idiots think you're a bit weird.”

He covers his ears.

It helps. It really helps. Mox stays in front of him, keeping himself visible to Hook. He appreciates it, it makes it so much easier to focus. He's sure he's getting some weird looks but he can't see them if he keeps his eyes on Mox.

Eventually Mox guides him into a generic clothing store. Inside its quieter. He can take his hands off his ears and breathe deeper. 

“You need training clothes and everyday outfits. We’ll talk to our designer about getting you the proper ring gear later, when it gets closer to you going out in the ring again. Can't go to her too early, people talk. We don’t need people figuring out where ya are too soon.”

Mox's mention of being in the ring again stirs something inside him. He hasn't thought about going back to the ring. It's been one step at a time for so long now.

Mox must see him freaking out a little because he chuckles, "Don't worry, pup, we won't put you in until you're good and ready.”

He wanders the store, looking for Death Riderish clothing. He really doesn't fully know what that is but he has some ideas.

He's drawn towards some of the only orange in the store. It's just a tee shirt but the color brings up emotion.. It's his fathers signature, made his own. He likes the color, thinks it looks good on him. 

But is he really his fathers son anymore? Is he allowed to wear the color? It’s a connection he no longer wants, no longer needs. 

Mox lets out a short, sharp whistle and Hook looks at him. He tilts his head and Hook follows him to the other side of the store. It helps, taking his mind off the color. 

He sticks to black, white, and dark green as he goes, colors that fit the Death Rider palette. It makes it easier, he has to think less. Mox picks at the shelves himself but most of his attention seems to be on Hook.

He makes sure to grab at least a couple of white shirts. It feels a bit dumb but he wants to fit in with the rest of them. Mox smirks when he sees it but doesn't say anything.

He also makes sure to grab a new pair of boots, sturdy ones. He needs to get rid of the shoes he's got on.

They make it to the register and Mox pays, chatting idly with the woman at the register. She's clearly flirting with him, something he slightly entertains. It's weird seeing Mox interacting with normal people. He's oddly charming. 

Hook suddenly wants them to leave. 

He gets his wish soon enough. Mox grabs the bags and they head for the door. He gets a small stab of satisfaction at the fact that Mox doesn't even cast a backwards glance at the woman. 

Back outside the store it's louder, somehow more crowded then when they went in. It takes effort to navigate around them. 

He's starting to get more overwhelmed now. Even his hands over his ears aren't doing much. There's just too much everything. Too many voices, too many bright lights and scents. They pass a Bath and Body Works and he almost gags.

“Think you need anything else?” Mox asks.

“No,” He says, and his voice bounces around his skull. 

Mox clearly recognizes something is up because stops, pulling Hook off to the side. Then he tugs off his hoodie and pulls it over Hook's head. 

It's a size too big on Hook but that makes it so the hood flops partially over his eyes, blocking some of the light. He can retract his hands into the sleeves and shove them in the pockets. Mox's scent surrounds him, blocking out the smell of stale popcorn and floor cleaner.

Then Mox puts his arm around Hook's shoulders and guides him back into the flow of people. It's easier now, hood blocking sound and light. He can just lean into Mox, resting his head on his shoulder and letting him guide them back to the parking lot.

He spends the ride home thinking about nothing much, mostly just reading the street signs and listening to the music. Mox keeps it on low volume, something he's really grateful for. He buries his face in the hood and sighs.

When they get back to the house Hook pauses. He doesn't want to go back inside just yet. The air outside is bright and clean and he doesn't know the next time he'll see the sun. It helps that the neighborhood is quieter now, the children must have retreated inside to avoid the summer sun. 

Mox doesn't seem to be in much of a hurry either, lingering in the backyard with Hook. He does laugh a bit when Hook dramatically flops onto the grass, staring up at the clouds dotting the sky. 

“Do you think they miss me?” He asks.

“They?” Mox asks.

“Joe, Shibata, my dad. They.”

“Yeah,” Mox says.

Hook sits up to stare at him. That is absolutely not the response he expected.

“Yeah?” He repeats.

“They had you molded into a soldier for them. You listened to them, took their words as damn near gospel. I assume they miss you a bit. Clearly not enough to not replace you though. It's like when your pet gets out. You're sad, you go around putting up posters for a bit, you wait, you find a cute stray at the shelter and suddenly Sparky is a distant memory.”

“Oh fuck you,” He says, but its weak.

“Im just telling you the truth kid. We’re there every week and I'll tell you this, none of them have mentioned you for weeks.”

He wilts into the grass. He needs to stop asking questions he doesn't want the answer to.

“Alright, stop looking so pathetic. Come back in, I got something for you.”

He sort of wants to stay outside for longer but curiosity wins out and he follows Mox back into the basement. They drop the shopping bags outside the bathroom, Mox grabbing something small from one of them. Then they step into the bathroom. 

Mox directs him to stand in front of the mirror before pulling something out of his pocket. Then he reaches up and gently wraps it around Hook's neck.

It's a chain, not industrial but not delicate either. The links themselves are maybe half an inch long. It sits close to his throat, only with an inch or two of slack. Mox gives it a little tug before grinning. Then he taps one of the links. It takes a few seconds to realize there's words on it and a few more for him to read them. 

“Hook”

Mox grins, “Figured were past the point of you trying to strangle yourself. Don't take it off.”

The only thing he can do is nod.

Chapter Text

The necklace never comes off. After a few days he gets used to the weight. He showers with it on, sleeps with it on. 

Every now and then, when his mind starts to wander or he fucks up a move too many times, one of them will grab it and tug, guiding him where they need by his throat. It's never quite painful, just enough to make his brain go quiet and his limbs go pliable.

Someone he wonders if it's going to be a problem when, or maybe if, he gets in the ring with a proper opponent. It doesn't seem to break with pulls so someone could use it to strangle him.

But the idea of taking it off makes him strangely sad. It's a physical connection to the Death Riders, much like the handcuff scars on his wrists, but this connection carries no pain. Its a reminder of how safe he feels with these people.

The next few days follow a pattern. He wakes up engulfed in Yuta and has to carefully detach him before heading to breakfast. Sometimes Marina waits for him, sometimes she's in the kitchen before he even stirs. Claudio is always awake before the rest of them, breakfast made before any of them make it to the kitchen.

Breakfast is the most social meal. It's interesting, listening to what the Death Riders think about anything and everything. 

Still confined to the basement, Hook doesn't have much to add to the conversation so when he's done eating he just rests his chin on his folded arms and listens. 

They rarely discuss match details around him. He suspects that they're trying to avoid mentioning certain names around him. He's grateful for it. He doesn't want to think about certain people either. Mostly they just talk about the world, new moves they want to try and occasional gossip about their coworkers. Only ones Hook is not close to, of course. 

After breakfast, Hook and Yuta do the dishes together. It's a nice little ritual. It gives him a way to be useful. He thinks that's why Yuta does it too.

Once the dishes are complete they head for the gym. That's when the day really starts.

Their daily exercises vary wildly day to day but they all have a point. Some of them are obviously to make them physically stronger, weights and pushups and situps and crunches until they feel like they're about to fall apart. Other days are endurance focused. On those days everyone starts running laps around the gym and the first to stop gets the honor of being the team punching bag for the day. 

The rest of the exercises are centered around team building, helping them to work as a machine, to see the moves their partners are going to do and help them do it. Those are the most frustrating and the most rewarding ones. When you're not on the same page you fail over and over, frustration building more and more, which makes teamwork even harder. Many sessions have been put on pause because two of them are seconds away from screaming at each other.

But when it works it's a beautiful thing. There's nothing else in the world like completely understanding another person, feeling as though they're an extension of you. It's one of the greatest things he's ever experienced. 

Lunch isn't a structured meal. Claudio just sets something out and whenever people are done training and showering they can eat.

Afternoons are more free. Everyone splits up, going about their errands and hobbies. For a while Hook is just bored, alternating between following the others around and working out more. All that does is leave him more sore and tired.

Eventually Claudio takes pity on him and gives him a book to read. It's sci-fi, not what he normally reads but it's something to do. The pile of cast off mats in the corner of the gym proves a very nice place to curl up and read. Claudio usually joins him for a couple hours, letting Hook curl against his side as they read. Once Claudio finishes a book he gives it to Hook. He reads faster so the system works quite well.

Mox clearly took note of how much Hook enjoys being outside because they start to make up excuses to bring him out there more. Claudio sends him to get mint from the small herb garden even though he's pretty sure that their scrambled eggs don't require mint. He might actually be concerned if they did, although if there's one person in the world who could make mint eggs taste good it's Claudio.

Marina makes the excuse that the fresh air is good for sparring. He's not sure if the science checks out but the grass is soft like a mat and the fresh air makes the punches more than worth it.

Except for the time Marina punches him in the dick. That part is not fun.

Yuta doesn't make any excuses when they go outside. Hook thinks Yuta might enjoy it nearly as much as he does. They spend a lot of time just watching clouds go by.

It's Yuta he can ask about the things he doesn't dare mention around Mox or Marina.

“How are Joe and Shibata doing? And Hobbs, I guess.”

Yuta tenses, but after a second he responds.

“Good. Irritatingly good. Still trios champs. Still dedicated to taking us down. They've dropped the stand-in designation for Hobbs, he's a full member now.”

“They mention me?” He doesn't want the response, but he needs to hear it from Yuta.

“Not on TV and not around us. I guess they could be searching and we just don't know,” He laughs, “They aren't going to find you till you want to be found though, looking or not.”

He nods, then goes back to braiding pieces of grass together. That's the response he expected, but it only makes him feel bad. Maybe there's a reason that the others don't talk about them in his presence. Maybe they're right on this one. 

Each night is the same, all of them trickling to bed slowly. Claudio is almost always first, first to rise and first to rest. Yuta, Marina and Hook are next, normally within fifteen minutes of each other although the order is always different. Mox is last, staying awake far longer than the rest of them. 

The days blur together like that, but it's in a calming way. Falling into a routine and learning his place among them. He can feel himself growing stronger, faster, harder. 

Then, one Monday, Mox breaks the bad news. 

All four of them are needed on Dynamite. 

Sure, there's been Dynamites before, it's a weekly show after all, but at least one of them stays behind with him. He guesses they might have all gone when he was chained to the wall but that feels like a lifetime ago, almost like it was different people. 

Tuesday night sees them packing up after dinner, preparing to leave. He wants to beg them to stay, or to take him with them, but he knows there's no point. Eventually he resorts to pacing outside the bedroom door. 

Mox looks at him and sighs. 

“Youre about to freak out, aren't you.”

He shakes his head but it's nowhere near convincing.

“Hes definitely about to freak out,” Claudio says, “You want me to drug you? You'll be less anxious in the morning. Watching us leave isn't going to help anything.”

He freezes for a second. His immediate reaction is absolutely not, it's never a fun time when they drug him. But they've also never asked his permission before. Maybe it will help. Maybe he just doesn't want to see them leave him. 

He nods.

Claudio disappears into the kitchen for a couple minutes. While he's gone Mox sits with him, letting Hook lean on him for support. He's warm.

A few minutes later Claudio returns, carrying a small cup of water. He hands it to Hook with no fanfare. 

He pauses for a second, briefly rethinking his decision before chugging it.

He can feel the effects much faster when he knows it's coming. He's slightly light headed in a matter of seconds. Then the dizziness starts. He's suddenly very glad he's leaning on Mox. There's no terrifying fall into darkness this time, just everything slowly fading, light first, then sound.

The last thing he feels is Mox's shoulder pressing into his cheek and Claudio's hand on his shoulder.

—

He wakes on Wednesday morning to oppressive silence and stillness. The panic is back, but the drugging clearly worked because it's nowhere near as bad as last night. Claudio was right. They're halfway across the country now, there's nothing he can say or do to change that.

He spends approximately 90 minutes in silence before he resorts to fiddling with the radio in the kitchen. It takes some messing with it to get it to play music but once he gets it going it provides a welcome break from the silence. 

A search of the fridge reveals several plastic containers with meals inside, contents carefully written across the top along with the meal. Breakfast, lunch and dinner for Wednesday and breakfast and lunch for Thursday. He appreciates the organization. He doesn’t need to think about what to eat when or what he’s allowed to eat. 

After breakfast he heads to the gym. . He doesn't have instructions to follow so he just comes up with a routine in his head, making sure to hit everything they've been working on. Legs, arms, core, stamina, repeat. The exercise helps him calm down. He can almost feel Marina by his side, critiquing his every move.

He eats lunch then digs around the bedroom until he finds Claudio's book stash, grabbing one he hasn't  read that looks interesting. After a second of thought he grabs his blanket and brings it to the mat pile, creating a little nest to read in. 

He thinks about going outside, but he doesn't want to go alone. The prospect is still too big, too overwhelming. He's not sure what he would do if he ran into another person. Indoors is safer.

That night he tosses and turns for hours in the big bed. It feels wrong to be sleeping in alone. He should have the other Riders all around him, should have Yuta trying to squeeze the air out of his lungs and Marina trying to reign him in. He should have Mox and Claudio on his other side, against his back like a shield. 

At nearly midnight he gives up and sighs. Then he grabs one of the blankets and crawls into the crate that still sits in the corner. It's nice, soothing, safe. The walls give the illusion that the others are around him, that he's safe and protected.

He spends most of Thursday alternating between working out and pacing. It's cold. Empty. He's gotten so used to the distant sounds of others moving around that now the stillness of the underground is awful. Even the music doesn’t do anything anymore. It feels far too out of place. He tries to work out, tries to fill his ears with the sound of his own heartbeat but without Marina and Yuta to urge him forward he gives up far too easily.

So he paces and he thinks and he starts counting the stones in the wall.

He's sitting on the stairs when they get back. Mox smiles when he sees him, silently helping him stand and pulling him along to the kitchen. He goes easy, grateful to have them back. The basement feels so much friendlier already. They are back and it feels like home again.

It's late, but Claudio cooks anyway, putting a bowl of soup in front of each of them. It's nice to have them back, nice to have a warm meal. He eats then sighs, enjoying the warmth of having everyone back. He thinks they're enjoying having him back as well. Yuta is right next to him, elbows bumping each time one of them shifts. Marina watches him like a hawk, but it feels less like a threat and more like she's checking on him. Even Claudio gives him more soup than the rest.

It's a nice night, calm and safe. 

“Alright,” Mox says, leaning back once they're all done eating, “We need to talk about Double or Nothing.”

Hook perks up a little. This sounds like it's going to be an interesting conversation. 

“They have me in New Mexico on Wednesday and over to Arizona on Thursday morning. The rest of you are flying out Thursday to join me. We won't make it home until Monday, and that's if none of us are injured. It's anarchy so we can't rule out a potential hospitalization."

Shit. That's a long time. He's going to be alone for a long time. He doesn't remember how long it's been since he's been alone for that long. Can he even function for that long without them? He barely made it two days.

Mox looks at him and something in his eyes makes him perk up. He's looking at Hook like he's got potential. Maybe this is it? Maybe this is his big test.

“It's too early to bring you into the ring with us. You're not trained enough. We're savin’ you for when we really need you,” Mox says, seemingly seeing the question in his eyes. 

Hook sighs and nods, sleeping back to rest his head on his hands again. 

“Alright, stop looking so pathetic. I said we're not putting you in the ring. I didn't say you're not coming.”

Hook perks right back up. Mox loops a finger around the collar and tugs him close.

“Hook, look at me. I need you to be honest. If we bring you to Arizona with us, can you stay out of it? Really think about this. We are going to be fighting Joe and Shibata. Can we trust you to stay where we put you and not interfere, no matter what?”

He thinks for a long second. He wouldn't have to get in the ring. All he'd have to do is watch. Can he watch Joe and Shibata, see his father on commentary?

Yes. He can. They replaced him. He's going to have to see them again. Best to get it over now, when he'll be out of public view. 

“Fantastic,” Mox says, grinning. He plants a kiss on Hook's forehead before turning to Claudio, “Request another ticket. If they ask, say it's for Pac. Fuckers ghosting us but he can still be a little bit useful.”

That command signals the end of breakfast. Yuta heads for the dish pile and Hook follows him on instinct. He follows the routine even when his world is doing backflips. 

“All good?” Yuta asks halfway through the pile.

“Yeah,” He responds, “Yeah, I'm fine. I'm ready, I promise.”

“I know.”

Chapter Text

Almost immediately a new element is added to his training. 

“We need to know you’ll be able to survive and not freak out outside of here,” Mox tells him at breakfast the next day, “your last trip out didn’t exactly inspire confidence and shows are a hell of a lot louder than the mall.”

It's Friday morning, which means they have a little less than a week to get him ready. Ready to get through an airport, into a plane, and through a show that includes anarchy in the area, all without freaking out or getting spotted.

Easy.

They decide to start with the not freaking out part, as not getting him spotted will probably just be a matter of a black hoodie and a lot of hiding in the hotel. The biggest risk for exposure will come from his inability to be normal in public. 

They start simple. Instead of jogging circles in the basement they drive out to a nearby park early in the morning and run there. There’s barely anyone around this early in the morning but it helps him get over the idea that someone is going to appear out of nowhere and grab him. 

He can also run faster and longer outside, cool air filling his lungs and pushing him forward. He thinks it's good for the rest of them as well. They all run better, conversation flowing easier as they do. There is a brief argument about exactly who ran further that ends with Yuta and Claudio trying to shove each other into the lake. 

That day Hook isn't the punching bag.

He feels more than a little bad for Yuta but this is how it goes. Yuta never holds back for him. 

Unfortunately they can't do the rest of the training in the park. It's getting more crowded and families trying to enjoy a Friday at the park probably wouldn't enjoy a cinematic view of them beating the crap out of each other. Yuta and Claudio have to sit with their fate for a while.

“Yuta, Hook,” Mox calls, “Go do a lap around the park. Hook, your job is to not make any of these lovely families concerned that you're an alien. Yuta, stay near him just in case something happens.”

He nods, then starts down one of the paths. Without the other Riders it's harder. He feels strangely exposed. He didn't realize he was relying on their presence until it was taken away. Yuta stays nearby but not close enough that Yuta can lean on him or even look to him for protection.

He wanders for a minute, trying to smile and nod at other people as they go by. It feels weird and robotic, but he's not freaking out and nobody stops to ask if he's okay so he counts it as a win. He's getting better.

After half a lap he decides to challenge himself. Sure he's doing okay with people but his big problem is volume. With that in mind he turns to head for the playground. Kids scream nearly as much as wrestling fans. 

He's almost to the playground when he realizes it's going to be really weird for a random dude to hang around a playground with no children and awful social skills. Most playgrounds have exercise stuff nearby and stuff, right? He thinks he remembers his local park having a pullup bar.

When he gets to the playground he finds that there is absolutely no exercise equipment. Furthermore, he was correct that it's very very loud.

He looks around for something to do. He needs to focus on something. He needs to get away.

He feels a small wave of relief when he sees a large map. He almost runs over to it. This is something he can focus on to take his mind off of all the sounds. 

He traces the trails with a finger. The map is bumpy and worn and the feeling helps ground him. Focus on the map. Don't focus on the noise, focus on the map.

He feels a soft pressure on his arm. He jumps and spins around to see Yuta looking at him with concern.

“You doing alright?” Yuta asks.

“It's loud,” he says. Oh, he can still talk. That's probably good.

“You want to leave, go home?” 

“Yeah, let's get out of here,” he says. Talking isn't fun, but he has to force himself to talk. He has to get stronger.

“Come on, let's walk the road back. It's faster,” Yuta says, and Hook follows gratefully. Anything to get away from the noise.

On the way back a cop drives by and Yuta shoves him into a bush. 

“Sorry,” He says, pulling Hook out when the car is gone, “We don't know if they filed a missing persons report on you so we should keep you away from the cops. They'll ask questions we don't want to answer.”

He nods, for a second reminded that the other Riders could do serious jail time for all of this. Hes a fucking missing person.

He shakes his head, dislodging the thought from his head as he follows Yuta back to the group. They're all sprawled in the back of the truck in a pile. Yuta and Hook hop up to join them. Jon's arm immediately comes to wrap around his shoulder then Marina's hand rests on his side. It's nice and it helps ground him again.

They can't stay like this forever, they know. They're already getting odd looks. 

But it's nice and it's calming and he doesn't want to go back yet. 

It's Marina that has to make the call eventually.

“Alright, Everyone in the truck. We've got to get back home and nobody can ride in the bed. No getting pulled over with Hook in the car.”

They all grumble but she's not wrong. They still have training to get through. Yuta and Claudio protest the most, probably in an attempt to avoid a beating but once Marina and Mox decide something is happening, it's happening. 

They launch right into training as soon as they get back. It's a bit calmer than normal, probably due to spending so much time at the park, but none of them seem to mind. They eat lunch as a group, chatting about Double or Nothing. It's less strategy and more shittalking Swerve, Kenny and Willow but it's quite fun.

After food is finished and dishes are washed Mox calls them all over. 

“Alright, you three, work out an Anarchy strategy. Hook and I are going to the mall."

Okay then. Guess they're going to the mall again. What do they need this time?

He asks Mox in the truck but the man just grins at him. 

The mall is packed, a fact evident from the parking lot. Coming here on Friday was a bad idea. Unless this is a test.

Fuck, this is definitely a test.

For a while they just wander. It doesn't seem like Mox has any interest in any of the stores. Another point for the this is a test theory. He's deliberately leading Hook near large, loud groups. Teenagers laughing at each other's jokes and kids running around their parents screeching. 

He's determined to pass. He's not going to cover his ears or hide his face in Mox again. He can do this.

They stop and just stand in the middle of the food court. He knows for certain that this is a test now. They're just standing in the most crowded place possible. Mox is just letting him soak it all in. 

Its loud, its so fucking loud. He knows that's the entire point but he really wants to cover his ears again. He needs to block this out. He knows he's supposed to survive this but he can't.

How the fuck is he going to survive Double or Nothing if he cant even survive the mall?

He turns to ask Mox but Mox is gone. 

He does a full turn but he can't see him anywhere.

He's been abandoned.

His breathing picks up. The volume somehow doubles. He thinks his legs might give out. He stumbles back until his back hits a pillar. 

He's alone. Hes completely fucking alone and hes scared and the world is getting darker. Are the lights turning off?

He feels his legs give and he slides down the pillar to the floor. He takes several big gulps of air, trying to fight back the darkness.

When you're lost in the woods you wait for rescue. Does that apply here? Do they want him to just wait here or does he need to hunt Mox down? Where would Mox even go? He thinks back, trying to find hints Mox might have dropped.

No. Mox didn't tell him where he was going. Hook is probably supposed to just wait. That feels right. 

Alright. He has to wait. What else? What else does he have to do to make Mox come back?

They've been trying to get him to not freak out. He's got to calm down.

Alright Hook, get out of your head. Focus on your breathing. It's fast right now. Too fast. 

In for four. Hold. Out again. In. Out. In. Out. 

The world comes back. He can feel the cold floor beneath him, can feel the pillar pressing into his back, feels the judgmental stares of the people around him.

He presses his hands to his thighs to ground himself and that's when he feels something in his pocket.

He pulls it out and blinks in surprise. He didn't have this before.

A wallet. 

He's got Mox's wallet. Okay. 

That feels like a hint, like an instruction. Mox left this with him for a reason.

There's a coffee shop nearby. Should he get a drink? That's something to do. He should do that. 

Standing takes a lot of effort, but once he's finally to his feet his legs don't give again. 

Focus. He has a mission now. Go get something to drink. Try to look less concerning.

He's nearly to the front of the line when he bails. This involves talking to a person outside of the Death Riders. He can't do that. 

But what if this is what Mox wants? He should listen. It's ordering a drink. He did this a million times before all this started. He can do this now.

He gets back in line, worry mounting every time the line moves. He narrows his focus to just his breathing and his feet. Line moves, walk forward, don't stop breathing. In, out, he can do this. This is what they want from him.

When he gets to the front of the line the cashier smiles at him, unaware of or ignoring his questionable mental state. 

“Hello, what can I get you?”

She asks. 

Fuck, he didnt think of an order. It's too late in the day for coffee. He needs to get something else. Lemonade? Tea? Oh shit, he's been quiet for too long. He needs to say something. He needs to just look at the menu and choose.

“Iced peach tea,” He blurts out, reading the first thing he sees on the menu. 

Okay. He did it. He spoke to someone outside of the Riders. The world didn't stop. He didn't say anything stupid.

Ah shit, she's looking at him. She asked another question.

“Wha?” He asks. 

Great. Real smooth.

“Sweetened or unsweetened?” She repeats.

“Sweetened,” He says, then because he can't control his mouth he adds, “Sugar free please”

“Alright,” She says, and he taps his card to pay. Thankfully it works just fine and he can step out of line to wait for his drink. 

Okay! That's progress! He ordered a drink! It's not a drink he’s ever had before, he's pretty sure he doesn't like sugar free sweetener, and honestly peach tea might have caffeine in it, but he did something!

Remember to breathe.

Thankfully getting his order doesn't require talking to anyone. All he has to do is step up when they call his order and not stare at the worker. 

Drink acquired. What now? He should stay put. When you're lost the best thing to do is stay put.

One of the tables nearby is empty. He should sit down. His legs are shaking. If he collapses things are going to get bad and someone might call an ambulance then that’ll get cops involved and then his fucked. He should sit down.

Once he's sitting, things feel a bit better. He's getting used to the noise. He's breathing. This drink is awful but it gives him something to hold, something to focus on. 

The cup is half empty when Mox sits down across from him, grinning. 

“Look at you!” He says "You're conscious and you actually spoke to someone!”

The pride in Mox's voice makes him smile. Everything is fine now. He did it. He's fine. Mox is back and he did it. He survived on his own.

He holds up the drink, “This isn't very good.”

Mox grabs it and takes a drink. His face scrunches up and without a word he stands up and dumps it into the trash. 

“The hell was that?”  He asks when he gets back.

“Peach tea with sugar free sweetener. I panicked when I ordered, pretty sure the waiter thought I was high.” He admits. 

Mox sighs, “Stay here,”

Then he gets up, walking back over to the coffee shop. Hook doesn't panic now. He can still see Mox. He has exact instructions. All he has to do is sit there and wait. 

After a couple minutes Mox returns, carrying two cups. He helps Hook to his feet and hands him one of the cups.

“Come on, let's go home.”

An experimental sip from the cup reveals that it's hot chocolate and a hell of a lot better than the tea. He takes another long sip as he follows Mox out. 

The car ride back is quiet, but he appreciates it. It feels like a welcome relief after the chaos of the mall. He did it. He did it and he's proud and Mox seems proud of him too. Maybe he can be ready for Double or Nothing by next Saturday.

Chapter Text

They go back to the mall after training the next day as well, but this time the other Riders come as well. It makes him feel a little safer, surely 4 people can't abandon him. 

For a while they just walk around as a group, chatting about not much. It's loud, but it's more manageable with all of them. He's also getting better at dealing with the sound, or at least he thinks he is. Children screaming no longer makes him flinch!

Mox must have told the others at least some details about the day before because Yuta stays right beside him, walking in front of him just enough that Hook can always see him. It really helps to calm his nerves. After a couple minutes he reaches out and takes Yuta's hand. Yuta interlocks their fingers and holds on tight.

He almost lets himself believe this is just a normal shopping trip, but they're all here and they were just here yesterday so it can't be normal. He has to stay alert.

They make it all the way to the doors on the other end of the mall before Mox holds up a hand. They all stop. A quick look at the others confirms none of them are confused. They know what's about to happen. 

“Alright pup,” Mox says. Yuta squeezes his hand. “New challenge. Swiss is going to split off, stay somewhere in this mall. Your job is going to be to find him.”

He nods. That sounds simple enough. He has a feeling that this is going to be a solo mission but he's getting better. He can do this.

“How are you feeling right now,” Marina asks.

“Alright,” He answers truthfully, “It's loud but you guys are here so I can survive.”

Marina smiles slightly, then shakes her head, “Progress, but we need you to survive without us for a time.”

“Working on that,” he mutters.

Yuta laughs quietly, squeezing his hand before releasing it.

“Go find him,” Mox tells him. 

Like he expected, the other Riders don't move to follow when he steps out of their circle and into the flow of the mall. Of course he's on his own for this one.

He doesn't quite know where to start but he doesn't want to second guess so he just starts walking. It's not very loud where they're standing, but as he draws closer to the main hallway of the mall. The layout of the mall isn't too complicated. Its two floors with a long central hallway, stores and smaller branching halls running off of it. The food court sits at one end, a beacon of noise and chaos.

He steps into the main run and immediately noise bombards him. He's tempted to freeze but something inside him tells him that is the worst thing he could do. He has a mission. He can't freeze. He has to find Claudio. 

He focuses on everything except the noise. The pattern on the carpet, the flicker of the lights casting odd shadows. He's got this.

Alright. He's never going to find Claudio if he keeps his eyes on the floor. Step one, look up.

He looks up. 

There's more to take in now. It's almost overwhelming but he can manage. He doesn't need to see everything. He just needs to find Claudio.

The mall is massive and he has no clue where he's going. There are so many people and he's only looking for one and why can't he get enough air in his lungs?

He can't panic. He can't let the Death Riders down. 

He stops and takes a deep breath. He's not in danger. Nothing here is going to hurt him. Everything is okay. 

He decides to do a loop of the main hall, then if Claudio's not there then he’ll search the side halls, then the stores. Food court is a last case scenario. He doesn't want to be there again. 

He wanders up and down random escalators, scanning for Claudio. For such a big man he is remarkably difficult to find. It might just be because he keeps flinching and pressing his eyes closed though. He's not exactly an eagle eyed hunter. 

He considers just stopping for a second, sitting on a bench until they find him and ask him what he's doing.

But no. This must have a purpose.

He's so caught up on thoughts of quitting that he almost walks right past Claudio. The man is leaning on one of the pillars, on the opposite side from the escalator. 

He's not sure what to say when he walks up to Claudio so he just settles for “I found you!”

“You did, good job. Now go find Mox.” Claudio says, smiling slightly.

He stares at Claudio for a second.

“Really?”

“Yes. I will freely tell you he is not where you left him.”

“Alright then, can I just?” He trails off.

“You can rest and calm down here for a moment before you go.” Claudio tells him and relief crashes through him. He needs a second to just chill. The world is calmer when he's not alone.

Eventually he has to do what he was told though, so he rolls his shoulders and steps back into the chaos, deliberately not looking back at Claudio. If he looks back he's going to want to stay longer,

A walk through the halls confirms Mox isn't out in the open. Alright, so they're ramping up the difficulty. He can deal with that. Another loop confirms he's not in any of the side halls either, leaving just the shops and the food court left to search. 

He finds Mox near the front of a Bath and Body Works.

“Smell doesn't seem to be affecting you too bad anymore,” He comments when Hook finds him.

“Sound is my worst,” He confirms, “Smell is one of the ones I'm better with. Let me guess, you're about to tell me to go find Claudio again.”

Mox smiles, “Yeah, but you're doing pretty well so we're going to make it harder. Marina and Yuta are going to be looking for you. Whatever you do, don't let them find you.”

He stares at Mox for a second before nodding. Damn, he should have known they weren't just here for moral support. Mox guides him out of the store with a hand on the back of his neck, practically shoving him back into the flow of people. 

Don't let Marina and Yuta find you. Okay. That's going to make things much harder. Now he has to look for two more people. 

But he's doing okay. He's got this. The sound isn't that bad anymore. He's started to figure out the layout, where all the small halls and large stores are. All he has to do is find Claudio. Simple.

Then he sees Marina.

For a second he forgets he's supposed to be avoiding her and he feels a wave or relief, then it hits him. He dives behind an oversized planter and holds his breath. It’s entirely too loud for her to hear his breathing but it helps him feel more secure.

A teenager stops to stare at him and suddenly he feels a little bit stupid, acting like this in public. Ah well, he'd rather have a random person think he’s weird. 

He gives it a good two minutes before he gets up again, poking his head out. Thankfully she's gone. He keeps his head on a swivel anyway, ready to duck behind another planter or popcorn stand.

Okay. Maybe the anxiety can be helpful.

He finds Claudio a couple minutes later, leaning on the wall by an elevator. 

“They catch you yet?” He asks when he sees Hook. 

“Nope,” He says, and he definitely doesn't imagine the pride in Claudio's face. 

“Very good,” Claudio says, clapping him on the shoulder, “Go find Mox again.”

Okay then. They're going to be doing this for a while.

And they do. Back and forth they send him, up and down and all over the mall, dodging Marina and Yuta all the while. 

He gets it down to a system. Up the mall on the bottom floor, scanning the halls and stores as he goes. He never leaves the main hall for more than a minute though, just in case they try to slip by. Then he climbs the stairs in the food court and searches there. Finally he heads down the upper hall, then back to the lower floor, around and around in a cycle.

He gets pretty quick with it. He can scan for Claudio and Mox faster and faster. He's yet to find a better way of hiding from Yuta and Marina but he's got a steady rotation of things he can hide behind now, and honestly if the strategy ain't broke, don't fix it.

The food court is the only place that still gives him issues, that cavernous space causing painful echoes. He hates being there, but that means the Riders are more likely to be there.

Sure enough, Claudio is there more than once. He smiles whenever Hook finds him there, and he lets Hook sit down right beside him, pressing close like he can hide in Claudio's bulk.

Then he steadies himself and goes to find Mox. He's not sure if Marina and Yuta can catch him when he's with Claudio or Mox but he doesn't want to risk it. 

But as his search efforts strengthen, his stealth begins to lapse. He almost starts to forget there are people looking for him as well. 

Then there's a hand on his shoulder and he's being dragged backwards into a shoe store. 

On instinct he turns around, ready for a fight but it's just Yuta, standing there. He looks both proud of himself and disappointed in Hook.

“Shit,” he mutters.

“Got you.”

“I noticed. What happens now? Do I get punished for this?” He tries to sound chill but some of his anxiety must show because Yuta softens a bit. 

“Not right now, we're in a mall,” 

“But later?” 

“Yeah,” Yuta says, wincing, “When we get home. It won't be that bad, just don't get caught more.”

“Great, thanks for the advice,” He says, not trying to hide the sarcasm. 

“We’re trying to help you get better,” Yuta says, “You can rest here for a second if you want.”

“Thank you. I know you're trying to make me better,” He sighs, "I'm sorry. This feels like a shitty game of hide and seek”

Yuta laughs, “Mox and Claudio aren't hiding really. Its more-”

He cuts himself with a small laugh. 

“What?” Hook asks, "It's more like what?”

“Its more like a game of fetch.”

“Goddamnit.”

“Hey,” Yuta defends, “It’s useful fetch. There might come a time where you need to find one of us without others seeing you.”

Fine. He has to admit the logic there is sound. It's useful. Plus he's definitely getting better at crowds as well. The puppy implications also don't bother him as much anymore. It's a weird brand of the Death Riders love. 

“You should go,” Yuta says, “Mox will be wondering where you are. You have 30 seconds before I start hunting you again.”

He looks at Yuta in alarm, trying to figure out if he's joking. He does not look like he's joking. Guess the break is over. 

He does his best to vanish in the next 30 seconds, ducking down an escalator then around two corners in quick succession. His grid method is definitely all messed up after all the time not searching so he's going to have to start over. And this time he'll be more careful.

It takes him a solid additional ten minutes to find Mox again, although a chunk of that is because he had to dive behind a pretzel stand to avoid getting caught by Yuta again.

“You got caught?” Mox asks when he finally finds him.

“Yuta,” He explains. 

“It was a matter of time, I suppose, although if you get caught in the real world you won't just be allowed free like that. You can't let yourself be caught. They will take you away from us.”

He flinches hard. He's been trying to avoid the possibility in his mind but now he can't. The idea of being separated from them by force is terrifying. He can't go back to who he was before. What would they even do? What would everyone think of the person he's become?

It must be obvious that he's getting upset because Mox steps forward and presses their forehead together. 

“Hey,” He says, voice quieter, “This is why we're doing this. So they can't take you away. You aren't theirs. You belong to us. They're never going to get you back. We’ll kill them before they do.”

Then Mox is kissing him. 

It's a soft kiss, uncharacteristically gentle. Another way of comforting him. He lets himself get lost in it for a second, completely ignoring the fact that they're in public.

Then it's over and Mox's hands are on his shoulder, gently kneading for a second as Mox draws away. Then Mox smiles at him and his world feels so much calmer and safer.

“Go find Claudio,” Mox says, physically turning him around and physically walking him out of the clothing store they were in. Hook lets himself be guided, brain still very much short circuiting. 

Then Mox is gone and he's still standing there like an idiot.

Jon Moxley just kissed him. 

Holy fuck.

He starts looking for Claudio in a daze. He's got a route to follow but his brain just keeps replaying the feeling of Mox’s lips on his. Damn that was a good kiss.

It takes a hand in his hair, physically yanking him to the side to snap him out of it.

Ah. Marina. Shit. 

“Hi,” He says dumbly. 

“Hello Bambi, did you forget you're not supposed to get caught?” She asks. 

“Yes.”

“Really?” She asks, sounding mildly incredulous. 

“Well in my defense Mox just kissed me so my brain’s not working right now.”

She sighs, “Of course he did. Well get your brain back working. You've still got a task to do.”

“How?” He asks, and immediately recognizes that it's a very dumb question. Cut him some slack, he's shocked and overwhelmed and he genuinely doesn't know how to get his brain back working.

Marina mutters something under her breath he doesn't quite catch. 

“What?” He asks.

Then Marina is kissing him.

It's more violent then Mox, her teeth on his lower lip and her hands tight in his hair. Her lips are soft though and she smooths her hands through his hair after she pulls too hard. 

Then she pulls away, smirking at him.

“Brain fixed?” She asks.

All he can do is shake his head. 

She sighs again, then he's being dragged through the mall with a hand on his collar. He lets himself go without any resistance. He's pretty sure Marina could do literally anything to him and he would let her.

But in a matter of minutes he's in front of Claudio. His eyebrows are raised as he takes in the scene in front of him.

“Mox broke him.” Marina explains. 

“Alright,” He says, “We were close to done anyway. I will text Yuta and Mox. Let's go home.”

“Lets go home,” Hook echoes.

Chapter Text

In the emotional chaos of the last few minutes in the mall he had completely forgotten about the promise of punishment for being caught. 

That lasts all the way until his foot hits the bottom step of the stairs. Then suddenly Marina is on one side of him and Yuta is on the other and he's being half dragged towards the gym. Marina's hands dig into his arm and back, any residual kindness from the mall gone.

When he gets to the center of the room they stop and step away, leaving him standing there alone. The lights are on but after the bright mall and outdoors it feels darker.

Mox is circling him. 

“How many times did he get caught?” Mox asks.

“One for me,” Yuta says.

“And once by me,” Marina continues.

“So ten then,” Mox says, stopping in front of him, “You can take those as strikes now or nights in the crate. The choice is yours.”

He freezes, staring at Mox. It takes him a second to comprehend the words. 

He's about to ask what exactly Mox means by Strikes but then he sees Mox slide his belt off and things click into place. Fuck. This is going to hurt.

Crate or belt. Which one will be worse? 

“Hit me,” He says, “I don't want to go in the crate with you all here.”

Mox smiles like he said something right. Maybe he did.

“Shirt off,” Mox commands.

He tugs it off without a word. The cold air on his skin makes it feel a little bit more real. A stab of fear hits him. What the hell is he doing? Exactly how bad is this going to hurt?

Then the first strike hits and oh god it hurts so fucking bad. It's a centralized burning pain, like someone pressed a burning hot poker in a line on his back. His knees give out and they hit the floor. He's able to stop himself from completely going down so he just kneels there. 

He considers getting up but he doesn't think his legs will support him.

He feels like he should say something but the only thing that comes to mind is Fuck.

Then the second strike lands.

“Fuck,” He blurts.

He thinks for a second that he's going to collapse forward but then Claudio steps forward and instead of falling forward he ends up leaning on him, face pressed into Claudio's thigh. It helps a bit, gives him something to concentrate on outside of the pain. Then Claudio's hand comes to rest on his head, cradling him close.

The third strike crosses the still burning line of the first and what escapes him now isn't a word but just a noise, a sort of muffled scream. For a second he's afraid but Mox never told him to keep quiet and he doesn't comment now so he must be okay. 

“Mox,” He hears someone say. Yuta, it must be.

“He has to learn,” Mox replies, then before Yuta can reply the fourth hit lands. 

He stops himself from crying out this time but a noise echoes through the gym anyway. Yuta. He can't raise his head to look but he can almost feel the worry radiating off of Yuta from across the room.

“Close your eyes if you need to, this isn't a punishment you can take for him,” Mox admonishes. 

He hears Yuta shift and realizes Yuta probably has genuinely covered his eyes. He feels bad to be causing Yuta pain like this.

Strike five draws both blood and a genuine scream. He can feel the blood running down his back, thick and hot and irritating the strikes below it. This is going to fuck up his pants. Why is that what he's worried about now?

“Five down. This is how you get stronger,” Mox tells him, "We've been showing you kindness but you must learn strength. That can only be found through pain.”

He opens his mouth to try to speak but his voice has abandoned him. All he can do is let out a small noise, somewhere between a whine and a moan. He nods, hoping to get the message across.

He knows it did when the sixth hit lands right in the center of his back. He gasps and squeezes Claudio's hand even tighter. He worries he might be hurting him but he shows no signs of pain. He can't tell if this strike drew blood as well or if the fifth is just bleeding heavily. 

The seventh strike is high on his back, almost across his shoulders. It’s better and worse, not crossing any of the others but covering more of his back in the painful heat. 

He's openly sobbing now, face pressed into Claudio's thigh in an attempt to muffle it. He truly considers tapping for the first time. This could be over. It would mean three awful nights in the crate but it would get him away from this awful pain. 

But no. The idea of being alone in the crate knowing he could have been in the bed might hurt worse than the belt. 

Then the eight and ninth strikes come, coming in quick succession, forming an X of burning pain on his back. The world spins. For a second he thinks he's going to pass out. 

Before he can even stop himself he taps frantically on his leg, preying Mox sees it. He can’t take another hit. He doesn’t think he’ll survive. 

He needs out.

He tenses but another strike doesn’t come. The only sound in the room is his rough breathing. 

After a few seconds he starts to relax. When he’s sure there’s not another hit coming he relaxes fully, only supported by Claudio. 

After a couple more seconds Claudio guides him down until he’s resting on his stomach on the floor. He can relax his muscles more in this position which lessens the pain slightly. The mat smells less than fantastic but he can't bring himself to care. His nose is slowly stuffing up from crying anyway.

“Im going to get something to clean your cuts,” Claudio says.

His voice is still gone but he nods the best he can and he hopes Claudio understands he appreciates him.

Mox lays down beside him on the floor. He discarded the belt somewhere out of view which helps calm Hooks nerves a bit. He's not going to be hurt now. The punishment is over.

Then he pulls Hook on top of him until he's draped across Mox's chest. He can feel the other man's heartbeat, feel it echoed in the wounds of his back. He buries his face in Mox's shoulder, tears still leaking from his face freely. Mox's arms don't wrap around him, something he is grateful for. Instead he takes Hooks hands in his and stretches his arms out so they're both stretched wide on the floor.

He feels a soft hand in his hair. It can't be Mox, he's holding both his hands. He can still hear Yuta breathing hard across the room and he hasn't heard Claudio return so it must be Marina. He doesn't bother to raise his head to check. 

He can feel the blood welling up and slowly running down his back. Some of it must be getting on Mox but he doesn’t seem to care. 

“You got to nine,” Mox tells him, “that’s only one night in the crate.”

He whines and presses his face deeper into Mox’s shoulder. He was so close. Why didn’t he just take one more strike? He could have done it and then he could be safe in bed. 

He mentally beats himself up until Claudio returns. The only reason he stops is because Claudio gently tilts his head up, forcing eye contact.

“This is going to hurt. I have to disinfect it, there are no options that don't hurt.”

He nods, voice still not working.

Clauido was right. It hurts. It really fucking hurts. He has to physically stop himself from biting Mox. It's okay. It's okay. He's not being punished. This has to happen. It's his own fault he's in this situation.

More tears leak from his eyes, darkening Mox’s hoodie beneath him. He’s not exactly sure what Claudio’s putting on him but it’s some sort of cream and it stings like hell. 

Eventually he seems content with his work, gently tracing the cuts with his thumb. 

“Is it going to scar?” Yuta asks, finally speaking. 

“Yes. Lightly.” Claudio says, and such a simple word feels like a punch and a breath of cool air at the same time. That's another mark of the Death Riders on his skin, another way of showing that he's bled for them.

These marks he will not be able to hide. What will others think?

Slowly the Riders leave him. Yuta is out first, practically the second he is dismissed. Hook really can't blame him, he thinks he would run too if he were in Yuta’s position. Claudio leaves soon after, but he's going to make dinner so it’s understandable too. 

Marina stays by him for longer, hand idly scratching his head lightly. It’s nice, nice enough that he starts to forget all the pain. 

“He needs to shower,” she eventually said, “it’s been long enough that the disinfectant should have done its job.”

He can feel Mox nod. Then he's being lifted and carried. He lets it happen, even as Mox’s arm wraps around his back, pressing into the cuts to lift him. He lets out a whine of pain and Marina makes a soft soothing noise. 

The short walk to the bathroom is absolute agony. Each step jolts him just enough that burning pain runs through him. Marina's hand and Mox’s arms are the only things keeping him tethering him to the world. 

The shower is even worse. He never put his shirt back on so all they have to do is peel off his pants and underwear and set him down under the spray. 

His legs still aren’t working so he slumps to the floor. The cool water running across his back is somewhat soothing. They let him just sit there for a long couple minutes, watching the water slowly turn from red to clear. 

“We’re not going to wash your hair right now, soap in those cuts won’t do any good right now. We just needed to get all the blood off of you.” 

He doesn’t think he’s capable of speaking but he hopes the look he gives Mox conveys how grateful he is for that decision. 

It must work because Mox reaches out and grabs him under his shoulders, helping him slowly stand. At some point Marina must have disappeared and returned because she helps him pull on a pair of soft sweatpants that definitely aren’t the ones he was wearing before. 

Mox directs him to sit on the closed lid of the toilet. He does, resisting the urge to lean over and rest his head on the counter. He needs to keep his head up. 

Mox pulls out a roll of bandages and kneels down in front of him. He raises his arms, wincing as the motion tugs on the cuts. Mox winds the bandages around his chest, not tight enough to cut off his breathing but enough that he can feel every breath. He lets his eyes drift closed as he works, doing his best to hold completely still. 

Eventually Mox is finished, taping the bandages to hold the bandages tight against his back. 

He expects to be given his own shirt so he’s more than a bit surprised when Mox tugs off his own grey hoodie and pulls it over Hook's head. It’s a bit big on him but it’s soft and warm and it makes him feel a bit safer. 

Mox helps him stand and together they all leave the bathroom. Marina heads for the gym and for a second Mox moves to follow her. Then he stops and turns back to Hook. 

“You’re stronger now,” Mox tells him, “you won’t get caught when it counts.”

Then he presses a soft kiss to Hooks lips. It’s not as much of a surprise this time but it still causes his heart to leap and his brain to fog over for a second. Then Mox is disappearing into the gym behind Marina and he’s alone in the hallway. 

He looks up the stairs to the door. 

The door isn't locked. It hasn't been locked for a while. He looks down at the blood spotting the hoodie Mox gave him. 

They hurt him. He should want to run. He should be angry and afraid. He should want to run. It's the same feeling he had before but covered in blood it's magnetized. He can't pretend everything is fine when he’s in so much pain but he still cant fucking run.

He presses the tips of his fingers to his lips. 

He feels like the conflict is going to burst out of his chest. He needs to talk to someone. Not Marina and Mox, he can’t bring this to them, they probably won't listen to his words. Not Claudio, he will go straight to Mox. 

It has to be Yuta. Yuta will go to Mox as well, but at least he will probably listen to Hook first.

He finds Yuta in the bedroom and sits in front of him. Even the jolt of sitting down sends a wave of pain through his back. He flinches, but forces himself to ignore it and focus on the man in front of him. Yuta looks at him curiously but doesn't say anything.

“I can't leave you,” he says, not bothering with pleasantries.

It's something he's known for a while, something hammered home every time he turns away from help, but saying it aloud, to Yuta, feels different. He's given name to the darkness inside him. 

Yuta looks at him with an odd look on his face but doesn't say anything so he elaborates.

“Youve all killed something in me. You've done this to me. I'm bleeding and I'm angry and the door is unlocked and I could run and I can't and I love you.”

Yuta reaches out and grabs Hook, tugging him in. He goes willingly, collapsing into Yuta's chest and curling into him.

“I know, I know, I love you too,” Yuta says, “This is how it is here. Even if you're redeemable in the eyes of the world, something inside you is different.”

“Does it ever get easier?”

“Yeah, when people hate you,” Yuta responds, “The world still thinks you're good, so a part of you still believes you're good. You need people to hate you. The worst thing that can happen is someone trying to help you.”

He thinks for a minute. It makes sense. It's the thoughts of Joe and Shibata, of his father that drag him closest to the edge. The knowledge that they don't know where he is, what he's become. That he could still return to them and pretend this was all just a nightmare. 

He sits up and looks at Yuta.

“I want to help you all during Double or Nothing.”

Chapter Text

Mox smiles at him like he did something very right when Yuta tells him about his declaration. 

They're still in the bed. They decided to stay put and wait for Mox to come to them, mostly for the sake of Hooks back. Walking still hurts so much. It only took Mox ten minutes to find them, to hear what Hook said. He hears it from Yuta because Hook's voice is still failing him in Mox's presence.

“So you want to join us officially, in the eyes of the world?” Mox asks.

He nods. 

He doesn’t really want it but he needs it. Needs the relief that Yuta told him about, the relief of everyone hating him. He needs to stop thinking about his father, Joe, Shibata. He needs to banish the idea of going back to them. 

Mox nods, “alright. We can talk about this more in the morning. Plans will have to be adjusted but that is perfectly fine. Is your back alright?”

“Yeah,” he croaks, "I'm alright.”

“Good. You're in the crate tonight then tomorrow this will all be a lesson, just a memory of why you cant be caught alone by anyone outside of us.”

He draws into Yuta a bit more, glancing at the crate in the corner.

“Mox,” Yuta says, and his tone sounds disappointed.

“He got caught. Consequences don't go away just because he's making a good choice.”

“Could I take his punishment for him?”  Yuta asks.

No! He fucked up. Yuta didn't do anything wrong. He shouldn't take the punishment. He doesn't deserve this.

He presses his face into Yuta's shoulder and shakes his head, trying to tell Yuta not too, but behind him he hears Mox chuckle.

“Sure,” He says after a long second, “You want to take it then who am I to stop you?”

Then he turns and leaves, just like that. Suddenly he's alone with Yuta again.

“You can't," He says, his voice louder than intended, “It's my punishment. I fucked up. Not you.”

“Youre hurt,” Yuta says, infuriatingly nice, “You should sleep in the bed. You need to heal.”

“No!”

Yuta slaps his back. It's not very hard, but it's enough to make him cry out and his eyes water. He can't tell if he's bleeding again or if he never stopped in the first place.

“Stay in bed. If you try to get in that crate I will knock you out.”

“But.”

“Stay.”

Then Yuta pulls away, leaving him alone in the big bed. He tries to scramble up, to follow Yuta out of the bed but a single look stills him.

Yuta makes crawling into the crate look somewhat graceful, but it's obvious he's less than comfortable once inside. Hook hates it. He hates being the reason Yuta is suffering.

But Yuta told him to stay so he just lays down and tries to find a position that doesn't hurt his back. For the first time he's in bed.

The guilt eats him alive the entire night. He tries to not toss and turn, determined to not ruin anyone else's sleep, but he can't get comfortable. He should be in that crate. Not Yuta. Yuta is in there because of him and now he can't even enjoy being in the bed.

Yuta's going to be sore tomorrow. They're so close to Double Or Nothing and now Yutas not getting a good night's sleep. What if this hurts their training? What if they lose their match because of this?

He makes it until 1 am and then he can't do it anymore. He crawls out of the bed, careful to not dislodge anyone. It's easy to go without Yuta's arms around him.

He lays down on the floor next to the crate. It's far from comfortable but it's what he deserves. At least like this he can hear Yuta's soft breathing, confirming he's okay and asleep.

It's not hard to fall asleep listening to that breathing

—

He wakes up to Claudio's soft laughter. 

He steps over and throws the crate door open and Yuta crawls out and now they're both on the floor.

“Really?” Marina asks, sitting up in bed to look at them.

“I couldn't sleep,” he explains.

Yuta laughs beside him, nicer than Claudio. Hook chances a glance at him and finds an almost fond look on his face. It makes him feel better, calmer.

“Ill make your coffee extra strong," Claudio tells them, then he's heading for the kitchen.

“Dont think we're going to go easier on you just because you didn't sleep right. You did this to yourself,” Marina tells them, then she's gone too. On the bed Mox mediatates, seemingly content to totally ignore them.

He looks at Yuta. Yuta looks at him. He wants to say something but he's not exactly sure what. Maybe something he's thinking gets through to Yuta because he nods, smiling a bit wider. 

Then he stands, stretching. Hook flinches when he hears Yuta's joints pop, but he doesn't look like it hurts at all. He looks weirdly happy for someone who just spent a night in a crate.

He extends a hand and Hook takes it, letting himself be pulled to his feet. It hurts to move his arms but its pain he deserves for dragging Yuta into this with him. 

“Let's go get coffee.”

—

When they get to the kitchen Claudio hands them each their coffee, stronger than normal just like he said. It doesn't taste great but he doesn't really deserve things tasting good right now. It'll keep him awake and productive and that's what matters.

When the rest of the Riders have joined them in the kitchen Mox stands and clears his throat ceremonially.

“Hook is joining us at Double or Nothing, publicly. We've trained him enough. It's time.”

Hook stiffens, ready to defend his choice, but nobody laughs or objects. The words hang there. None of them look surprised at this either, Marina and Claudio nodding like this was always the plan. Did they know he was going to do this?

The room falls silent, and he's suddenly aware he's the center of attention. They're all looking at him, analyzing him.

“Anarchy means chaos,” Mox says finally. “It’s blood, noise, weapons. Shit doesn’t go how you plan it. We know that.” He stops, eyes narrowing. “This ain't the kind of place where you can have one of your freakouts pup, if you're doing this with us you have to be able to handle it.”

“Im better now,” he says, proud of how strong his voice is, “I can handle it. I want to help.”

Mox nods, leaning back in his chair.

“I want him ready. During the match I want him ringside, hidden until we need him. We can tuck him under the stage or some shit, I don’t want him anywhere near his father.  All of us are in the match, and if it starts to go bad then he needs to be able to get to us fast.”

“That’s a lot to throw him into,” Yuta says softly, not looking up from the table. “It’s not drills in the gym. It’s them. Joe. Shibata. Hobbs.”

For a second he feels offended. Yuta seemed happy when he said he wanted to join. What’s changed?  Why is he going back on his words now?

Then Yuta looks up at him and realizes nothing has changed. Yuta wants him there, but he knows what it might do to him. He knows Hook better than anyone else. He's reminding him of exactly what's at stake.

He thinks about the anger they talked about, the hate. He thinks about Joe’s growl, about Shibata’s cold eyes, about Hobbs’ power. Everything he's seen them do to their enemies. All that will be focused on him. Yuta is giving him one last out. 

“That’s why he needs to be there,” Claudio cuts in, voice calm but sharp. He feels his way out close with Claudio’s words, and he's not upset about it. “He has to face it. If he runs into them out there for the first time unprepared, they’ll eat him alive. At least this way, we control it.”

“Control,” Marina scoffs. “There’s no control in Anarchy. You know that, Claudio. But,” She flips her phone shut and looks straight at Hook. “I agree. He’s ours. He has to bleed for us in public eventually. Better now than later.”

Hook swallows, throat dry. They talk about him like a weapon, like a piece of the match, but their eyes burn into him with something fiercer, more personal. They want to lay claim to him publicly.

Mox steps over to him, grabbing the back of his chair and pulling it away from the table. Then he crouches in front of him, balancing on his haunches, all predatory and close. Hook leans forward instinctively, getting close enough to Mox that they share the same air.

“You don’t hesitate,” Mox tells him. “If I’m down, if Yuta’s surrounded, if Claudio or Marina are cornered, then you move. No thinking, no freezing. You put your body on the line for us. You take the hits. You make sure we win. You understand?”

His back still aches under the bandages, but he nods anyway. “I understand.”

“Good,” Mox says, smiling. “You’ll be close. Close enough to hear us. To see us. And when the time comes, you’ll know.”

It’s terrifying. It’s intoxicating. Sitting there under their gaze, Hook feels the sharp edge of fear twist with something that almost feels like pride. They want him in the fire with them. They trust him enough to bleed alongside them.

And when Joe and Shibata and his father sees him standing there with the Riders, when they realize he’s chosen, then so be it. He’s one of them now. 

—

After breakfast they head for the gym. He hopes that maybe they'll go easy on him even though he knows it's a pipe dream. 

The mat smells like disinfectant, faint traces of blood never fully gone. Or maybe it was cleaned properly and this room will always smell like blood to him. Or maybe he's bleeding again.

Yuta’s already waiting, slowly wrapping tape around his fists. Claudio is off to the side, arms crossed, watchful. Marina sits on a mat in the corner, eyes sharp. Any hope that this is going to be a normal training session dies.

Mox tosses him a pair of black boxing gloves. They’re heavier than they look. His arms protest as he pulls them on, the stretch across his back sending fire through the healing welts. He swallows the sound in his throat, trying not to show weakness.

“Ten minutes,” Mox says. “Don’t stop swinging.”

Yuta steps forward, pads on his hands, holding them up like a dare. “Come on,” he says, quiet but firm.

The first punch is clumsy, pain ricocheting from his shoulders down his spine. He grits his teeth, throws another. Yuta doesn’t move except to adjust, catching every blow, feeding him a rhythm. The sound of glove against pad fills the air, steady, relentless. 

One, two. One, two. One, two. One, two. 

Every strike makes the cuts on his back scream, but he keeps going. He's not sure if it's blood or sweat on his back. His breath grows ragged. His arms shake. The hoodie sticks to his arms with sweat, sliding against the bandages.

“Good,” Claudio says. His voice is calm, measured, but the approval lands like a weight. “Keep your stance. Don’t fold.”

He forces his legs steady, refusing to collapse even as his body begs for it. He’s not sure if he’s proving something to them or to himself. Maybe both. He can do this. If he's going to help then at Double or Nothing then he needs to do this.

At the three minute mark his arms feel like lead. At five, he can barely lift them. He thinks of stopping, of asking for mercy, but Marina leans forward just slightly and he knows there won’t be any. He takes a deep breath in. 

Mox’s voice cuts through “Pain doesn’t break you. Weakness does. Know the difference.”

So he keeps going. Punch after punch, until his vision blurs and all that exists is the ache in his body and the pads in front of him. Yuta takes every hit, steady as stone, murmuring under his breath.

 “That’s it. Keep going. You’re stronger than you think.” 

It's Yuta's words that keep him pressing forward, coupled with the expectant stares of the rest of the Riders.

When Mox finally calls time, Hook nearly crumples. Claudio is there, catching him by the shoulder before he can fall. He doesn’t say anything, just holds him upright until his breath slows. 

“Better,” Mox says, nodding once. “That’s how you last. That’s how you win.”

He wants to feel proud, but all he feels is hollow, shaking. Still, when Yuta lowers the pads and gives him the faintest, almost-hidden smile, something inside him sparks. For a moment, that feels like enough. He can do this. He is one of them.