Archive of Our Own ^beta

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“Well, what are you going to do? You already ruined the show. How are you planning on bringing this back? Because honestly, I don’t think you can.” Creole says, a look in his eyes that tells Yucel all they need to know. “Please, let me try again. I promise I won’t do it again.” They get on their knees, folding their hands, and bowing their head. “You won’t do it again?” Creole grabs their hair, pulling them close to his face. “You shouldn’t have done it in the first place! That match was yours! They practically handed that shit to you. And what did you do? Get blindsided and lose the match. To a pathetic piece of shit man who’s only here to earn an extra few shins to blow on some whore. You’re trained better than that. I trained you better than that.” He throws their head back, and steps on their back.
“So, I want to hear you beg one more time for me. To really prove that you’re sorry. Because you should be sorry for the massive loss this was.” His voice drops low, an angry growl replacing the voice they're used to hearing. When you hear this voice, you know you fucked up. Yucel forces tears back, knowing what happens when emotions are shown during this stage of punishment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose what was an allegedly easy match. I promise that no matter what, I will win the next match. You can bet a lot of money on me, and I can promise that even if I am a walking corpse, I will win the next one.” When he’s asking his slaves to beg, most of the time he genuinely means to sit and grovel. So, begging and promising a win is the closest thing to what he wants. His foot sits heavily on their back, glaring eyes on their downcast head. “You promise me a win next time? You won’t lose against another piece of shit like this guy was.” There is no question in his voice. It's a statement. They nod, chancing a quick glance up towards him. They’re met with a swift hit to the back of the head. “Don’t look until I tell you to.” He spits out.
“Sorry sir.” They say, casting their glance back down. Even though their eyes are on the floor, they can feel the glare he’s giving them. “Fine. Get up and go back to your room.” He lifts his foot, and kicks them into the direction of their room. They get up, and scurry away, plotting in their head how exactly they’re going to win a match they’re not prepared for.

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Artemis sits down, taking a rest from traveling. It’s been a long day, and they’re both tired. “Hey Anton?” August says out loud. The body of Artemis shifts, and he sits back against the wall he’s situated himself at. ‘Yeah?” Anton answers in his head. It sounds slightly concerned. “I just wanted to apologize.” August felt Anton stiffen, even though it wasn’t in control of the body. ‘What for? What did you do?’ August shakes his head.
“I wanted to apologize for how we ended up the way we are. I wanted to apologize for your death.” He can feel the confusion radiating off of Anton’s consciousness.
‘Why? It’s not like you did that. If anything, you came back and saved me. I wouldn’t be alive right now if you didn’t come back for me.’ August shrugs.
“Yeah, I did. But maybe if I was still there you and the others might not have died. All of them are dead because us puppeteers left. You were vulnerable. I don’t know how the other’s were treated, but I know I tried to be good to you. You were basically like a friend to me. You didn’t deserve to be treated bad. Especially since we worked together all the time. Seeing you like that, it hurt me. I didn’t even know if what we did would have worked. I just knew I didn’t want to lose you, no matter what it took. And if losing myself is what it took, I would have done that for you.” Anton stops Augusts ramblings.
‘August. Stop. Please. It was not your fault. If I’m being honest, you were the only one that was actually good to me. The others were very mean to us. You were the only one to even come back to us. I genuinely think that the other puppeteers set this whole thing up to get rid of us. Like they didn’t even need us. They outgrew us and moved on to other puppets I guess. And before you feel bad, please don’t. All the others went peacefully. They wanted out. And this was a way to do that. I was the only one that wanted to live, and you were the only one to come back. So, it all worked out in the end. You have nothing to apologize for.’ August takes a breath. “Thank you. I’m so thankful that I came back for you. I love you. Please know and remember that.” He feels Anton smile.
‘I do. I love you too.’

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Zen opens their eyes to almost complete darkness. A single candle is lit in the corner of the room, seemingly floating in the air. Whether it be by magic, or if there’s a table there, he’d never know. It’s not the first time he’s awoken to the darkness of the room, or the candle lit in the corner. It’s been so long that they’ve lost count. They started to keep track early on, but easily lost track when the days started blending together. It’s also not the first time they’ve been captured. Though, this time it’s not because they used to be royalty. This time, he’s being sold off somewhere. They’re not quite sure where exactly they are, or who their captors are, but what they do know is that they keep hearing talks of the auction being today. Who the hell would want to buy them? They’re nothing special. Well, they’re something to one person, but they’re not sure where she is. Hopefully somewhere safe. The door to their room opens, putting the candle out, and flooding light into the room. The blinding light forces their eyes closed, not seeing who came in to get them. A forceful hand grabs their arm, and drags them out of the room.

When they open their eyes, they’re standing in front of a large crowd, their eyes roaming their body hungrily. They want nothing more than to cover them self up, to hide from the prying eyes. But with one strong hand holding one of their wrists, and the booming voice in front of them, it keeps them standing stone stiff, choosing instead to drop their eyes to the floor. The voices and numbers mean little to nothing to them as they’re shouted and acknowledged. They only hear words. And when the word “Sold” is shouted out, their head shoots up to see if they can catch a glimpse of who purchased them. Their eyes catch an individuals eyes from across the room. This persons eyes seem gentle enough, but they’re not one to believe exactly what they see. The firm hand pulls them off the stage they were on, and thrusts them into this persons hands. “You may leave now.” The gruff voice belonging to the rough hands says before turning and walking back to the stage. A gentle hand touches their wrist, and they flinch before stiffening. Their head flicks to the individual, an apology already on their lips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to scare you. I just wanted to get you out of here.” They voice matches their face; gentle and accepting. They have chin length brown\black hair, and kind eyes, despite their angry red color. Zen swallows and nods. They gently grab their hand, before tugging them out of the building. Once the two of them are a decent bit away from the building, the individual pulls him to a stop. Their eyes remain gentle, though their grip tightens slightly. “My name is Xerxes. My pronouns are she/he. And I can promise you that you are going to be safe with me. I know your name is Zen, and your pronouns are they/he. I also know that you’re missing someone right now. Would you like to go see her?” She asks, a small smile on her face. Zens eyes widen and their head whips to meet her eyes. “You know my girlfriend? Is she safe? Is she okay?” They start before immediately cutting them self off. Sure, they were told they were going to be safe, but they sure don’t want to take their chances right away. “She’s safe, and okay. She and I were actually friends, but then I moved away and we mostly lost contact. She found me, and asked me to track you down. And here we are.”
“Are you going to take me to her?” Zen asks, voice barely above a whisper. She nods.
“I am. She’s going to be so excited to see you.” She tugs on their hand again. “Now come on, best not leave her waiting.”

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“No. No, this isn’t what I wanted. This isn’t what I wanted and you know it!” Wyn yells at the faceless man that’s lounging on a chair farther into the room. “Oh? Isn’t it? I thought anything you asked for, within reason, would be given to you. Why would you ask for something you wouldn’t want?” They can’t see his face, but they know he’s smiling, knowing he’s got them right where he wants them. “Stop. Stop that. You know that’s not what I meant!” But he holds up a hand, signaling them to stop. “You have to be a little clearer. I can’t always tell what you want if you’re not clear about it.” Wyn growls, low-key knowing he’s right. “Now, you should be nice to me. You know that you can only do all this flashy stuff because of me. Maybe you should listen to me, and you’ll continue to be able to do all the fancy stuff you’re doing, okay?” He stares at them, faceless head portraying the stance that he’s right and he knows it. “Fine. You’re right. I’m sorry. I just, I acted on impulse. What you did for me wasn’t what I wanted, but I can’t deny it is what I asked for.” Wyn looks down. “That’s more like it. It’s okay, you’re forgiven. Now come on, your friends out there will start to question why there’s so much yelling in here, and we both know they won’t be happy to hear you were yelling at me. Especially that William fellow.” Wyn clenches a fist before they turn away from the now looming figure before they walk out the door.

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“I just need to inject this into your arm here, and then we’ll be good.” Freya’s eyes flick toward Ushal, and she flinches her arm away. Ushal quickly pulls away, xer eyes full of fear. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” She shakes her head, suddenly feeling very silly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pull away.” She hesitantly gives her arm back. Ushal takes her hand, a wary look on xer face. “I don’t want to give this to you until you tell me what’s wrong. It’s not a vital injection. Just one to help the healing process.” Xey say matter-of-factually. Her eyes flick to the needle, then back to xer face. “I’m sorry. I-just the needle. It sometimes give me unwanted flashbacks. After what happened to me, I sort of have an irrational fear of needles. I know you’re not going to hurt me, or inject me with something that would harm me. But, that fear is still around. And sometimes it comes in small bouts.” Her eyes drift to the floor. Ushal gently lifts her face to look at xer face. “I know you aren’t suspicious of me, don’t worry. Would it make you feel better if Yucel was the one to give this to you? Or, would you feel better if you just didn’t get it at all? You don’t need it. It’s just to help speed up the process.” Xey say, putting the needle down and out of sight. She contemplates what to do. “Can Yucel do it?” She asks, voice like a small child. Xey nod. “Let me go get them and see if they’re comfortable enough to do it.” Xey leave, leaving her to her thoughts. Which are very limited, due to their racing mind. She feels a soft hand on her shoulder, and she flinches. Her head lifts, and she sees Yucel in front of her. “Hey babe.” They say, taking a seat in front of her. “Hi honey.” She says shyly. They smile at her.
“You have a bad phobia flare up?” She nods, a look of disappointment in her eyes. “Oh sweetheart, you know there’s nothing to be disappointed about. Things like that happen, especially with what you went through. And I am very happy that you trust me enough to do it for you.” She nods again, before shuffling closer to them, leaning her head against their chest. “Can you do it while I’m being embraced? Please?” Her eyes fill with tears from the request. She feels them nod, before wrapping their arms warmly around her. They plant a kiss onto her head. “I’m getting ready to do it. Are you okay?” They ask as they clean the injection sight. She jumps slightly, before centering herself and nods into their chest. She feels them shift a little, one arm still holding her, the other expertly and swiftly giving her the injection. They then immediately hand off the needle to Ushal and embrace her fully again. “Shh, you’re okay. I’m here. We’re all here.” They whisper into her ear, causing her to nod again against their lips. “Can we go lay down? I think I want to be around everyone right now.” She feels them nod. “Of course honey. Ushal, can you gather the others? I think this calls for some cuddles and love.” Xey nod and run off to gather everyone. Yucel pulls away slightly to plant a kiss on her forehead. “Come on, let’s go lay down. Everyone will be there soon.” She nods, wiping tears that she didn’t even know were falling, before the two of them make their way towards the bedroom, about to have the best cuddle puddle one could ask for.

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Hard, cold stone pressed up against their back as Saga is shoved against it. A knife is held dangerously against their throat, the assailant making sure to press their wings uncomfortably against the wall behind them. The attacker stares dangerously, but Saga only looks back with tired eyes. This was something they were used to. They were relentlessly bullied for being who they were. They got wings relatively early in their life, but neither of their parents have. So, the entire village saw them as some sort of monster. Just because they were different than everyone else, did not make them a monster. They were human, just like they were. Being human is a state of mind, and if you saw yourself as one, then you were one. And they saw them self as nothing but human. Apparently no one else did. “You should just leave. No one wants you here.” The kid, no older than fifteen says to them. Saga, also their age, shifts so their neck is pressed into the knife. “If you’re so cocky with that thing, why don’t you use it?” They were never suicidal, because no matter who the attacker was, they never really wanted to kill them. Saga watched as the kids face falters slightly, and they take a small step back. “What?” Their voice trembles as they ask. “You sure like swinging that thing around, are you actually going to use it?” There is no sass in their voice, not trying to egg the kid on, but genuine curiosity. The child backs up further, before pulling the knife away. “Like I said, you should leave. No one aside your own parents want you here, and I can almost guarantee they only do out of pity. You should do everyone a favor.” The kid does not point the knife back at them, letting it hang limply by their side before spinning around and running away. Saga sighed. Another day, another failed death/exile threat. And another day of waiting for the next failed death/exile threat.

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It was that match. The one that they said they’d win. And boy is it a doozy. This man is big. Like, a fucking brick wall big. And it looks like he means business. And he already has the upper hand. “Get up, unless you want to make your handler mad at you.” He smirks, glancing over where Creole stands. This man has them pinned against the floor, the staff he picked up slamming a little too close to their head. They grab the staff, and knock it out from under him. He looses his balance, causing just a split second for them to get out from under him. He reels around, shoving them hard in the shoulders, causing them to stumble and fall back. As he lunges, they tilt back, using their legs to push him over and shoving his head into the nearby wall. This disorients him enough to allow them to take the staff and wack him hard against the back of the head. This knocks him clean out, and Yucel is declared the victor.

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“You’re worthless. You know they don’t care about you. You should have died all those months ago. You even have the scar to prove it. All you do is bring pain and suffering to those around you.” The pesky voice in their head says. It’s been a while since the voice made an appearance. The figure that is the voice in their head paces around them, stroking their throat. “You remember that time. You were fighting a Mesomeme, the giant crab, and it got the best of you. Sliced you right here. It was so close to be-heading you and your old friend. And you’re ashamed of it. Once everything got healed through that switch, and all your wounds were healed over with a purple glow, you cover them up. You wear long sleeves all the time to cover your arms. You wear a choker necklace to hide the slash on your neck. You don’t want people to see just how fucked up you are. If you just dealt with yourself normally, you wouldn’t have to hide your arms. If you were more proud of your adventures, you’d wear your purple slash with pride. Instead you are ashamed. Ashamed to see what people would think of you. Of what your team would think of you. Oh, did I strike a nerve. Don’t look at me like that. You haven’t once taken your necklace off around your team. They know about your self harm habits, but they didn’t know you kept up with them. That your arms are now covered in purple lines. That you look like a failure. And you’re afraid that they’re going to see you like one. Isn’t that right. You’re pathetic. And soon, your team is going to notice it too. How long do you think it’ll last. Sooner or later Ushal is going to ask why you no longer come to bed without being completely covered. How long will it take for Greshim to ask why you keep wearing your coat in the hot summers. Or Freya and Yucel to ask why you don’t train with them anymore, since training requires sweat, and normally you’re in minimum clothing to do so. And Quinara. I think that one will catch on the fastest. It’s also ashamed of itself, so it’ll catch on faster than you’d think. So, unless you want to worry everyone, you should come clean. And you should do it soon.”

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“You disobey, you know what happens.” The man who’s the outlaws leader says. Yuno shakes their head. “Please, it was an honest mistake. I didn’t know they had a weapon on them. I thought I had him in a position where he could be taken out easily.” The man grabs their wrist forcefully, taking them towards the fire. “Doesn’t matter. You had a job, and you failed. I had to send another man after him to finish the job that you were too incompetent to do. Now you pay the consequence. Shoes off. Now.” They let out a shakey breath, and slip off their boots. He turns towards a fire that’s been sparking aside them, a pot of boiling water set atop of it. “Stick your foot in it.” He snarled, pulling the pot off and placing it on the ground. They look at it, and have to physically ground them self by digging their nails into their palm. They take a deep breath before they stick their foot into the pot. The pain is instantaneous. They bite their tongue, keeping the scream at bay. After an agonizingly long time, he allows them to pull their foot out. “Take care of them. Once their foot is wrapped, we move. Maybe now you’ll know better than to fuck around when you have a job to do.” The man walks away, leaving Yuno to their family and friend to take care of them.

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“Did you dare talk back to me? Get your ass over here, and I’ll teach you to talk back to me!” Greshims father yells, taking his wrist in his hand and pinning it to the wall. A wild and ravenous grin graces his lips as he surveys him. “You need to be taught a lesson. A lesson in respect and to listen to your father when he speaks.” He pulls Greshim into the bedroom, before throwing him down on the bed. “You know what to do.” He flicks his head towards the restraints. Showing little to no emotion, Greshim makes his way towards the end of the bed, cuffing his ankles into the restraints. He then lifts his arm over his head, and grabs the cuffs at the headboard. With the skill that no child should have, he cuffs both his hands with them, leaving him feeling exposed, even though his clothing is still on. “Now, be a good boy and stay quiet. You know I always break out of it when you’re loud.” He flicks his lips as he starts for the hem of his pants. It’s going to be a long night.

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‘You’re injured. You should tell them.’ August says from the shared headspace. “I’m fine. Besides, they don’t really seem to care.” Anton says quietly, trying not to gather everyone’s attention. ‘If you’re not going to take care of yourself, then let me take over and I’ll take care of us.’ Artemis shakes its head. “I don’t think we can risk a personality change right now. They’re already a little suspicious of us actually being crazy, a full personality change is going to set us over.” It flinches, and lays a hand on its arm. ‘You got slashed, and we don’t have time to sit and wrap it. If you inform them, you can have one of them help you. It’ll waste less time.’ August continues to push. Artemis shakes its head again. “Just stop, we’ll be fine.” It hears August sigh before it feels a tugging at its consciousness. “Hey, don’t.” It’s cut off by August taking over, and turning to the group. “I know, this will be weird. But we’re injured and I know we don’t have time for us to sit and take care of it. I don’t care if we have to walk and bandage, but can one of you please help us?” August asks in as emotionally close to Anton he can get. “Wait, us? None of the rest of us are injured.” Oseye says, squinting his eyes. Artemis sighs, glancing at everyone. “I guess it’s as good of a time as any. I am August, and I have another consciousness in my mind named Anton. We worked together before this, but it was on its deathbed, and I had to save it. So, we currently share my body, thinking a name change would suit the both of us. Now, I know that’s very interesting and all, but can one of you help bandage me up please? I’d like to not be the only injured one here.”

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“I’m sorry, but we can’t give you anything. You can’t even stay here. We’re booked for the night.” A nice nurse says to Saga as she’s actively bleeding out all over the floor. “What do you mean she can’t stay? I literally saw an open room on the way in here.” Greshim growls, papa bear showing up to play. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You’ll scare the patients.” The nurse says with a sickly sweet tone, but gears their gaze towards Saga. The one that’s mad isn’t the one that’s going to scare the patients. It’s Saga. Everything clicks into place in that moment. “I understand. Sorry for bothering you.” She bows, before limping away from the medical building. “You’re just going to leave, like that?” Greshim yells, but she knows he’s not mad at her. “You don’t know what it’s like. This is normal for me. I look different than everyone else, and everyone is scared because of it.” She sighs, before catching herself on Greshims shoulder. “We should probably try and stop the bleeding. We don’t have Ushal with us, but you know as well as I do that xey are going to get mad for my sake, just like you are. And I appreciate it. Truly, I do. But, getting mad is going to get you nowhere. They won’t listen to reason. Nothing gets through to them, and the longer we were there, the longer I would have been bleeding out. At least now we can hopefully stop this before it gets too bad.” She says as she sits down in the outskirts of town, and tears her shirt off. She starts stripping it, tying it along her leg to create a makeshift tourniquet, before wrapping the wound. She then sighs, and hopes that this is not the injury that does her in, and that being denied medical treatment is not the reason for her demise.

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Guilt and sadness wracks their mind as they try to sleep. However, it’s no use. Today is the day. The day of Nyx’s death. How long has it been? Of course they would know that answer. Two years since the whole event happened. Two years since the event that was their fault. That made it so Nyx had to die that day. If only they were better. If only they did more. They could have done something more to make sure they lived. Got up faster. Ran to them instead of being told otherwise. They sigh as tears start dripping down their face. They leave their dorm room, afraid they’ll wake up their roommate. Luckily, they seem to be quite comfortable in the space between their mattress and the bed frame. They’re easily able to slip out of the room and sit on the floor against the wall. There they let the tears start falling. ‘Get it together Solaris. You have no right to be upset about what happened. It was your fault anyway. You don’t deserve to be sad.’ They think as they press their eyes to the palms of their hands. They never let a sob escape, knowing there are five other people in this dorm that they would wake up if they started crying too loudly. They take a deep breath, before they steel their emotions and stare up at the ceiling. It’s going to be a long night, and they don’t plan on sleeping tonight.

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“Sit down, I’m going to take care of you.” Hope says as he gently pushes Safe onto the couch. “You were beat pretty badly. I need to clean and tend your wounds.” Safe gently grabs his wrist, stopping him. “I can’t let you take care of me when you were also hurt.” He says, though Hope can see the pain etched in his eyes and written all over his face. “It doesn’t matter if I was hurt. You are obviously in more pain than I am. So I am going to take care of you.” He gently places a hand on his shoulder, before leaving to go get a first aid kit. He returns, sitting next to him, pulling out a cotton swab and antibacterial cleaner. He places the end against the obviously bloody part on Safe’s face. He flinches, but doesn’t move. Hope continues to clean Safe’s wounds, ignoring the throbbing pain that is radiating off his wrist and arm. Once he finishes cleaning Safe’s wounds, he gets up to leave. But, before he does, he feels a gentle hand grasp his wrist. This causes him to flinch and almost pull away. His head flicks towards Safe, noticing the gentle look on his face. “Now, can I please take care of you?” Hope can’t help but let out a sigh. “Always the caretaker.” Hope rolls his eyes, but with a smile on his face he hopes Safe knows he’s not mad. “But sure, you can take care of me now.” Safe smiles, and as he trades places with Hope, he is forever happy that he’s dating him. He places his head gently against Safes, and Safe gently takes his hand. “I will always take care of you, just like you take care of me.”

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Another pained whimper exits their mouth as the bat connects with their leg. “Come on, scream for me. Beg for me to stop. It makes the stream much more interesting.” A man behind the camera says, sticking it in their face. They glare at the camera, and the live stream by default. “You’re making things boring little girl. Look. See what they’re saying. They want to hear you scream. They want to hear you beg. They want to hear that pretty little voice cry and whimper.” He shows them the comments, and the people on this fucked up stream are telling him to make them scream and cry. “You don’t want to disappoint the crowd, do you?” He says with a big smile. They growl, but don’t say anything. They don’t need their voice out there in the dark web, where this is inevitably being streamed. “Nothing. You know, she’s just a useless girl who doesn’t care about her fans.” They glare at him. “Ooh, a sassy one. She’s a fighter, this one.” He laughs as he turns away. Well, we’ll just have to turn to other measures won’t we.” He flips the camera to the cart of devices he could use to hurt them. “Your little friends may try to find you, but this is an encrypted place, and my location isn’t being broadcast.” He can’t help but laugh. I know they’ll find me. They have to. Riley is the best of the best. If anyone can find them, it’s her. “Now, where were we?” He asks, before the sound of metal against metal rings out in the small room, before he stands over them with a knife. “I can do this all day. Let’s see if you can too.”

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Even after all this time, he still can’t let that place go. There are some days where it’s okay. Where he can go about his day with no problem. It’s almost like it’s a normal day and he’s a normal person. Until something not so normal happens. He lives alone, not willing to trust himself with a roommate or to find a relationship. Not until he sorts himself out. How, you ask. Good question. He can’t talk about these things, so how is he going to get over them? I guess that will come in due time.
He does have a job, thankfully. Who would hire a guy who looks like he just walked out of a drug den? A fast food place, of course. That’s not enough to support himself in an apartment, so he has a second part time job as a bartender. After that place, he became quite knowledgeable with alcohol. It happened one day while he was working behind the bar. It was a really slow night, despite it being a weekend night. There was music playing in the restaurant as he cleaned cups and put them away. He hears a person sit down at the bar, and he turns to face them. A greeting is flowing off his lips almost as muscle memory, when he falls short. There, sitting at the bar, is his dead girlfriend Maria. Instead of tears springing to his eyes, or anger coursing through his veins, he stood frozen. A gentle smile graces her lips, and a small wave is given. He should be happy. She survived! He doesn’t know how, but she did! Instead, he tries to glare at her. “You’re not real.” Unshed tears cause his voice to crack and jump an octave higher than his normal voice. That smile fades a little, but doesn’t disappear as he hears in his head, ‘I seem pretty real to me.’ Tears start running down his face, happiness and fear taking hold. “But, if you’re here, then are we safe?” The repressed thoughts of the circus come crashing back. Just when he thought he was having a good day. Everything comes in like a tidal wave. Boss keeping him on a tight leash, every single time Ronin came through the circus, and every single time he perished there. Watching every single member of the circus fade with time, their powers and addictions taking over, before being reverted back in time for it to all happen over again. The night she came into his life, and the cycle stopped. The day she died, and everyone got out. He feels a gentle hand on his arm, causing him to jump and flinch away. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It looked like you were spiraling. I promise, I’m the real deal. My father only thought he got rid of me. I am quite resilient though, and it’ll take more than his magic to take me down. I will however, need to get acquainted with the world again, as I have been stuck in a limbo space for a while. Are you almost done work?’ He scrubs the tears off of his face, and gently takes her hand. “Yeah, my shift ends in half an hour. I’ll take you home, and we can go from there.” She smiles, the one he got so used to seeing before answering with, ‘I’d like that very much.’

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“You doing okay Ushal? That was quite the fall.” Xey nod, not even trusting that the answer xey have is an accurate one. “Well, if you need anything, give us a heads up.” They say as they walk away. Who was that, xey will never know. There’s too many people here anymore. Xey walk back to xer room, and head to the bathroom to examine xemself in the mirror to assess the damage. As xey stand in front of the mirror, xey observe all the small cuts and bruises that are a long xer body, noting a relatively large bruise that’s blooming along half of xer back. Great, that’s not going to feel good tomorrow. Xey carefully touch it, sucking in through xer teeth as xey do. “Shit. I guess I should go and see if I can get something for this.” Xey pull xer shirt back down and slowly head towards the “nurses” office. What their nurse is, is essentially a woman who puts this group of people back together so they can still perform at tip top shape. Xey poke xer head in and walk fully into the room. “Ushal. What brings you here?” She asks as she puts her writing utensil down to look at xem. “I had a nasty fall earlier, and I have a pretty big bruise on my back. Would you be able to give me something for the pain? Maybe to help it heal faster?” Xey ask as xey walk further into the room. “Sure, of course.” She gets up, and after a little while of being away, she returns with a vial of something. “Go back and put this on it. It should help dull the pain and help with healing a little.” Xey smile and take it from her. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.” She nods.
“Now get out of here. You know he doesn’t like you guys coming to me.”

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Of course, when you’re in the desert you have to watch out for the heat. That’s a given. Make sure your skin is covered at all times when shade is not available, and keep hydrated or you’re as good as gone in days. What they don’t prepare you for, is the cold that comes after the sun goes down. Sure, you hear about in the tabloids all the time, but actually experiencing it is completely different. And for Ira and their group, it would be their first time. The outlaws they found themselves with are used to the crazy change in temperature, and when there aren’t any towns for them to lie low in, they set camp outside. They have padded bedding, from some furry creature they’ve killed long before they showed up. They made some furry hats, probably made from the same pelt that their bedding came from. They make sure to sleep by the fire, but of course that means that someone has to keep the fire from going out. And that means it goes to the people who are new. And right now it’s Ira’s turn. The rest of their friends and family are warm and under blankets and their bedding. Ira however, has to sit in front of the fire and try to keep themselves warm. It only works a little, as they are shivering, with only a thin blanket to cover themselves. Whenever the fire starts to dim, they take the small amount of timber they have to kindle the fire back to life. They stick their hands towards the fire, and shiver as the night drags on.

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It started small. Once they were taken, right during one of the most important times in this war, they started the process slow. Like they knew they were going to have them here for a while. They didn’t know any better, but it started by the men constantly calling them she/her. Of course they would. They were born female after all. And like hell they would correct them. These men were not to be messed with. After that, it was calling them sir whenever they talked to them. Then it was bowing when they talked to them, along with making sure to end their sentences with sir. Then it was making them eat whatever food they were given from the floor. Then it was waking them up at the crack of dawn after keeping them awake for hours after the sun goes down. It never ends. For what feels like months they do this tactic, in an attempt to break them. At first it doesn’t work. Their a soldier, of course it wouldn’t break them that easy. But, with very little to no hope of being rescued, it did eventually devolve into being broken. They flinch every time someone raises their voice, because whenever they get yelled at, it ends with them getting hit or left outside in the cold, or without food for days. They bow their head as soon as they hear someone walking their way, or else they’ll be reprimanded. They’ve learned to eat their food from the floor, because if they don’t, then they don’t get any. It’s lonely, and many times they want it to just end. That maybe one day someone will come in here, pissed off, and just shoot them right there and then. But that day never comes.
Then comes the training. They use them as a test dummy. For target practice, really. It’s supposed to teach them to withstand pain in battle, but what battle are they seeing exactly? Their wounds are normally poorly wrapped and taken care of, just enough to stave away infection. Then they get creative. One of them tosses them a knife. “Attack back. You’re a soldier right? Surely you can attack me.” He taunts, putting away his own gun and pulling out a knife to match. They weigh the knife in their hand, debating on how exactly they want to proceed. While they’re thinking, movement from the soldier flies towards them. They quick try to dodge, but just slightly too late. The knife nicks their shoulder, however they’re quick enough to pick it up and hold them both out towards the man. The smile on his face grows. “That’s my little weapon. I like you, Max. You can call me Striker. I think you and I are going to get along great.”
And that’s how this man, Striker, becomes one of the worst men to ever enter their life. Every day he comes in, he beats the shit out of them, trying to get them to fight back. To get them to get used to the pain and come back swinging. And they do eventually. But it takes a while. Getting used to pain is not an easy feat. But it sticks with you. Eventually you do know what you’re going to get yourself into. He pulls out a gun, no matter where he shoots, the same pain will always follow. He pulls out a knife, the same slicing, stabbing pain will follow suit. The first day they don’t even flinch when they’re hit, continuing to swing at him he puts them to the ground, but with the biggest smile they’ve seen yet. “You’re getting there my little pet. Sooner or later you’ll make a great ally. Your platoon will never see what’s coming to them.” They haul themself back to their feet in a desperate attempt to put him down. To not go with this plan, but it’s too late. He’s already gone.
It’s been weeks. It has to be. They have no concept of time, but it couldn’t have been any shorter of a time than that. Striker continues to come back. And they continue to get better. They don’t even register they’re hurt anymore. They don’t feel the blood flowing freely from the wounds they sustain from the hits and the bullets anymore. The only reason they’ll stop fighting is if they pass out, or if he has them in a hold they can not get out of. “Good, very good. We’ll be getting a new guy in here soon. Why don’t you make sure he’s taken care of.” Striker says with a smile as he tosses them aside to get treated. A new guy? Hopefully he has a way out of here. Because not only do they want to stop going through the hell that is this place, but no way do they want him to also go through this.

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Pretty dresses and suits were seen all over the event. Masks covered everyone’s faces as the crowd gathers in the large room for the auction. This auction was a big one. They were selling big items. Hot commodities for specific wants. Like jewels, paintings, oh and people. Yeah, that’s kinda why we’re here. As much as we would want to get all of those poor people out of there, and not to people that would treat them horribly, instead we have to scope the place out and try our best to shut them down before they do something like this again. Unfortunately, things didn’t end up going how we wanted it to. Instead, someone gave us up, and now one of us is injured. “Just hang on. We’re going to get you out of here.” A voice echoes by my ear. I can’t quite recognize who it is, the blood loss making it hard to concentrate. Probably one of my team of course. No one else would sound so panicked. But the voice, I just can’t seem to pick up on who it is. It’s fine. We’re back in the car now, and I get thrown onto the back seat. “Just hang on, please.” My eyes try to adjust, but only see two faces above me. One male, one female. My friends. I’m thankful they’ll be here for my last moments. “Thank you. Both of you.” I hold my hands up to cup their faces, features finally coming into focus for a split second, before my eyes close and my arms flop to my side.

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“Get down on your knees, now.” Dretch books. Ushal does what xer told, and gets down on xer knees. “What did I tell you. What did I tell you!” A crash from behind xem tells xem that he threw something. “You never listen. You never do what you’re told. And now look what happened. One of our own is injured. And it’s your fault!” More crashes. “Now, you stay there. You need to learn your lesson. Stay down, and don’t get up till you’re told to. Got it!” Ushal nods, not looking up. Air moves around xer head, almost like he went to hit xem but missed. Xey don’t even flinch, knowing what happens when xey do. He walks away, and leaves them for hours. Honestly, xey don’t even know how much time truly passed. Not until he comes back, grabs her hair and lifts xem to her feet. “You learn your lesson, you freak?!” He asks, flinging spit into xer face. Xey nod, and he throws xem, xer legs weak from kneeling and xey topple to the ground. “Useless idiot. Why do I even keep you around.” He rolls his eyes and walks out of the room in a dramatic show, leaving xem on the floor.

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Max sneaks around the trees, attempting to stay hidden as they glance towards the crowd of soldiers. As they scan the area, their eyes lock with James’s, and he subtly shakes his head. ‘Don’t come near’ is what he’s saying. But, if they don’t then who knows how long they’ll keep him. Sure, they don’t like the man, the relationship he has with Mac is horrible at best. But that doesn’t mean he needs to die. They adjust their grip on their homemade knife, and slink closer. Once they’re close enough to pounce, that’s exactly what they do. They jump out, drop to the ground as the soldier they jump at takes a swing with his gun, pop back up to take a few swings at his face, before swiping low to slice the mans Achilles. He let’s put a cry of pain before dropping to the ground.
Meanwhile, they’re already on their next move. They take a long swipe at the next man’s face, expecting him to back up out of the way. He does, and when he comes back they clock him in the temple with the hilt of their knife, before shoving him back against the tree behind him. He connects with a loud crack, and he’s out cold. They shift to the next guy, dodging the bullet stream, before slicing upwards, creating a large, long slash along his torso. They then grab his gun, rip it from his hands and hit him across the head with the butt of it.
As he goes down, they shift their gaze to the final man that doesn’t have the walkie-talkie, and as they try to take a swipe he gets the better of them. He swings at their head, connecting with their temple. They make a 180, landing on their knees as they catch themselves with their hands on the ground. They register that he takes a shot, at who they can’t tell. Hoping it’s not James, they attempt to stand back up when they hear the gun load. “I’d get down if I were you. One shot, and you’re paralyzed.” They flinch and freeze. Not wanting another potentially debilitating injury like that, they land back down on their knees. “That’s more like it.” He comes around to face them. “I’m surprised you can’t feel that. It’s bound to be shattered.” They give him a confused look, about to ask what he means when the pain finally hits them. He didn’t shoot at someone else, they shot at them. They let out a yell, and shift their weight so they aren’t kneeling on it anymore. Over the walkie they hear a concerned voice. “Who was that? I swear if you did anything to him.” Mac’s voice comes clear through the walkie. “Relax, your father is fine. Your girl friend? Maybe not. She’s going to be nursing a pretty nasty wound for a while.” The man says with a smile. “So you better come get your friends. I doubt your girlfriend can keep this up for long.”

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Max wakes up in the hospital. It’s not uncommon. They’re very accident prone, and tend to come out of missions with some sort of injury. But this one was different. They woke up to a lot of pain, specifically around their right knee. They shift to sitting, taking note of the bulk where their leg should be. It’s significantly bigger than their left leg, which means it must be wrapped.
“You’re awake.” They hear a voice and shift to see who it is. James, standing in the doorway of their room, makes his way in. “Yeah, I just woke up.” They say, glancing down at their hands. “The man was right. Your patella was completely shattered. You had to go into surgery. From what the surgeons said, they were able to reconstruct it, but walking will be very difficult for a while.” He stops at the edge of the bed, sitting in the chair by it. “Why did you do that?” He asks, no malice or bitterness in his voice. Just straight curiosity. “Why not. If I could dispose of the soldiers, you could have made it out. No one was dead, but no one could have gone after you either.” He lets out a sigh, but it’s not an angry sigh. It’s from an emotion they can’t quite pinpoint. “You do realize that even if you disposed of all of them, I wasn’t going anywhere without you, right?”
That causes them to raise an eyebrow. “Come on. I may not be the most likable person here, but I’m not about to leave an agent to save my own skin. That’s not what got me in the position I’m in now. Helping my fellow agents is. I appreciate the effort you put into my rescue, I really do. But, you got seriously hurt because of it. And I can’t have you continuing to do that. The first step to taking care of others is to make sure you’re okay too. Get some rest. They’ll start rehabilitation soon. Hopefully it won’t take a lot of time to start walking again.” He stands up. “Thank you Max. I wish you a speedy recovery.” And with that, he turns and walks out the door, leaving Max alone.

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It definitely started slow. A little bit of pain in their shoulder. Nothing horrible. Just discomfort and annoying. And then it started to get worse. These lumps started to appear on their back, right by their shoulder blades. They went and showed their parents, to no avail. They had no idea what they were. Neither of them had wings, so they wouldn’t know the tell tale signs of wings. And it only got worse. The pain because excruciating. It felt like movement under their skin. The lumps started to look like they would burst with just a simple touch. Even the local doctor didn’t know. Until one day, there was relief. They woke up one morning to no more pain. They thought they were in the clear. And then they looked in the mirror. Two tangerine colored wings sat on their back. How they didn’t know they were there is beyond them. They thought it was awesome. Went to go show their parents and everything. Their parents had no idea how they had wings when neither of them did. When they got tested, it was found that they both carried a gene for it, but they never presented. They both knew this would make their child’s life so much harder. People were so mean. But they promised they would be there for them, through all the pain and bullying they would end up going through while they were at the village. And be there they were. Through all of it. No matter what life threw their way, they knew they could always run to their parents for help.

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Anton painfully lifts its head and glances around. There’s fire everywhere. All the other puppets like itself are laying on the ground around it. All of them not moving. It drags itself to the closest body and takes its arm on its hand. It takes its hand, and puts it to its face. Puppets have this special ability that if they touch each other, that area will heat up. Like, to almost a boiling point. It’s an ability that actually bites them in the ass because it keeps them from actually touching each other. However, this special ability only works if the puppets are alive. So when Anton touches the other puppets hand to its face, the area does not heat up. Tears spring to its eyes as it realizes that it should be dead. It finally takes tabs on its condition, and realizes that it’s currently bleeding from multiple places, and it’s pooling underneath it. It finally realizes that it is going to die. It closes its eyes, and just braces itself for the sweet kiss of death, only wishing that August was here with it, telling it that it’s all going to be okay. But he’s not here, and it’s alone. So so alone. Alone as the life force drips out of it slowly.

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Saga comes to, their finger blades out and blood on their wrists. They flinch and sheathe their blades, before sprinting to the bathroom. They turn on the water and stick their wrist into the stream. They suck in a breath and close their eyes. Shit, I can’t believe this happened again. It’s been a little bit since they’ve done this. Certainly not the longest, but definitely a long time. They’re so ashamed that they’ve broken their streak. Once the bleeding stops, they pay dry their arm and sit on the floor. They’re so lucky that everyone is out right now. They reach under the sink and dig around for bandages. They slather some cream on it that should help the healing process, and tightly wrap their arm. They stand up and stare at them self in the mirror. They sigh, taking note of how they look. Their hair looks limp, their face looks gaunt and their eyes look tired. Shit, how did they let them self get this far. It’s fine. They’re okay. They pull their coat on and exit the bathroom once they’ve checked everything over. They’re going to make them self okay, no matter what the cost.

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It took months to get back to normal. Once their knee was put back together, they spent weeks just trying to put weight back on that leg. And even longer to be able to walk around. And Mac was there through a good portion of it. Jack, Riley, and Bozer were there too, helping them throughout their stay. Truthfully, they don’t know why Mac was there the most. Their conversations were strained, the fact that he just up and left without saying anything (and almost did it again before he got a call from Murdoc and that stopped him) still hanging thick in the air. With them needing to heal, but also knowing they don’t always want to be in the hospital gown, the nurses and doctors let them wear their own clothes, as long as they wore short sleeves for IVs, and shorts so they could see their knee. They complied, and Bozer went back to sort through their clothes and bring them a bunch.
This was one of those days, them laying on top of the hospital sheets, just staring at their knee. Their surgical scars are visible and still very gnarly. Thick stitching keeps their skin together, and the knee is swollen slightly due to both healing and from use. “I’m glad you’re okay.” Mac says finally, from his seat next to the bed. They glance at him. “Sorry I haven’t said that yet. But it seemed like you wouldn’t have accepted it if I said it any earlier.” They tear their gaze away and back to their leg. “I don’t forgive you yet.” They start, hearing Mac shift in his seat. “You left. Without telling us. Everyone else might have forgiven you, but I don’t yet. You let me get close to you. You let me be your friend. You let me think I was important to you. You were the most important person in my life, and you left without saying a word. It shut me down. Ask Bozer. I wouldn’t talk for months. Before I finally got my bearings and got over it. You didn’t control my life, and I had to realize you weren’t in it anymore. I started getting closer to everyone else, and they let me. I can’t let you back in yet. But, maybe I’ll get there soon.” He’s quiet for a second before he asks, “if that were me in that situation, would you have done the same thing?” Max tilts their head, before placing a hand on his arm. “In a heartbeat. Just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I want you dead.” He smiles, causing them to smile. Sure, the situation sucks. They’re out of commission for a while, and chances are they’ll have these hefty scars. But, everyone got out safely in the end, and that’s what matters.

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Max pulls at the cloth holding them to the chair, but the blood dripping down their back and the drug pumping through their body makes it so they can’t pull with full strength. “Nice try my puppet, but you aren’t getting out that easy.” The bloody knife that Striker used to stab their shoulder is dragged gently across their throat. “What are you doing to me?” Their slurred words don’t even sound like they’re coming out of their mouth. “You have a nasty downer going through your veins, and blood loss is only making it harder for you to do anything.” He shifts his stance to fully standing. “Though you aren’t losing that much blood. I didn’t stab you that deep.” He starts pacing and they continue to struggle against the restraints. It’s cloth, so why can’t they get out. “Struggling will only make it worse you know. Plus, no one knows you’re even here. Your friend Mac is dealing with something similar. However, I’m sure his friends found out about his situation. Yours? Not so much. So, get comfy. You’re going to be here for a while.”

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Greshim breathes heavy, glancing around himself at the carnage that the fight has left. All of his team was down. None of them appeared the be extremely injured, or in life threatening danger, but they will need to be taken care of. As for the other side? Not so much. They ended up as a bloody massacre of bodies and limbs. Him and his friends never even gave them a chance. They were extremely shitty people, taking slaves, hurting anyone that came into their path. Men, women, anyone that doesn’t identify as either, and children were all victims to these people, a situation that his whole team could sympathize with. So, of course they wanted to help and of course they did not hold back. Now, not a single member remains, and he just knows that everyone will be so happy to go back to the victims and tell them that their abusers are now dead. But first, he just needed to take a break. He’s not hurt, not badly at least. But all the adrenaline has left his body at once and he collapsed again a tree. Yeah, maybe a quick nap would be nice. The thought doesn’t even have time to go through his head before his vision starts to tunnel and he doesn’t even recognize he’s about to faint until he’s unconscious next to his team.

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Max stares into the mirror, observing the face that stares back. Same eyes, nose, mouth, everything. But, they can’t seem to recognize themselves. They’re a changed individual. They’ve been through so much. They’re still healing from their recent knee injury, though their back injury is better, there is still the scar from it, the knife wound from where they had to stab themselves to alleviate some of the nerve gas. Not to mention the mental scaring they have that you can’t see in a mirror. All their time as a POW. Mac leaving. The ups and downs the team has. Maybe that’s why they can’t recognize themselves anymore. They’re the same, but are they really? They reach up to touch their face. Calloused skin touches the smooth skin of their cheek. Tears well up in their eyes.
“Max?” They hear a voice from behind them. Their eyes lock on to the figure in the doorway through the mirror. Mac is standing there, a strange look on his face. “Yeah?” They ask, not stopping the tears that have forced their way out of their eyes. “Are you okay? You were just looking at yourself in the mirror. And it didn’t look like you were admiring yourself. You looked… sad.” He says slowly, walking towards them. “Yeah, sorry. Just reminiscing about everything that’s happened.” He walks over and places a hand on their shoulder. “You need to talk about it?” They shake their head, and smile. “Okay. Well, you can come to me if you need to, you know that right?” They nod again, and finally shift their gaze from the mirror to his face. “Well, let’s go. It seems like you shouldn’t be alone right now, so let’s get the group together and watch one of Jack’s old shitty movies.” They nod, liking the sound of that, and they both make their way out of the room, leaving the mirror abandoned.

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They wake up in an unknown location, bleeding and in pain. The bullet wound on their back radiating waves of pain as blood continues to gush. Where is everyone? Where’s the team? They push themselves to their feet, unable to stop the blood from dripping down their back. As they glance around, they lock eyes with Striker. “What are you doing here?!” They growl, reaching desperately for their knife, only finding that it’s missing. “Relax, I’m the one that got you out. You should be thanking me you ungrateful girl.” He smirks, before taking a few steps towards them. They take an equal amount of steps backwards, hands up to defend themselves. “Don’t come any closer. I don’t care if you helped me, chances are you have a different motive.” He stops walking towards them, his smirk not leaving his face. “Maybe you’re right. But, does it really matter? I got you out of an active war zone. And you have the audacity to say that I have a reason to do so? You wound me so.” He swiftly closes the gap and shoved them to the ground. They hold in a yelp as he shoved their back into the concrete, the pain making them unable to fight back. “You’re mine for a while. None of your team is going to come get you. Now, make yourself comfortable. We’re going to have some fun.”