estevesia-whump

[estevesia-whump]

hell's right hand (1.21): from the shadows

CW/TW: captivity, violence, blood, vomit, (a child gets slapped in the face but is fine otherwise), malnutrition

as the continuation of 1.2, this chapter goes through one of the videos liexia & aurelie end up finding to get a better idea of what happened in that building, it's from kyre's pov.

-

-> video1.mp4 [play]

Was it the authorities he last spoke to? No, it must've been that private investigator, or so he called himself...

When the bag is removed from over his head, Kyre finds himself in a small room with maybe ten other kids. Nine, actually, after counting properly. He's for sure the only one who's at least eighteen, maybe the only that's above sixteen, but it's difficult to tell because most of them have small, gaunt faces and bones that stick out at the elbows.

No one speaks, but many of them sniffle every once in a while, a weak cry proportionate to their (lack of) body frame.

It's unclear to Kyre how much time goes by before a tall, lanky man enters the room, slamming the heavy door behind him. He doesn't even open his mouth until the echo is gone, and then when he does speak, his voice booms.

"This is where you'll be staying from now on. You are to obey and to serve without question."

"Who will we be... serving?" one of the slightly older children squeaks.

The man repeats himself, hardly even eyeing the speaker. "Without question."

Kyre stays quiet, but the other children don't seem to understand the gravity of the situation.

"Wh-where's my mom?"

"I needa pee, mist'r!"

"Are you gonna hurt us?"

"S'cuse me? I'm hungry."

"You're not gonna hurt us, are you?"

A clean smack across the first kid's face shuts everyone up.

"We will break each and every one of your bones if you don't listen to our instructions," the man shouts, a gun pointed not at any specific person, but everyone. "Understand?"

Suddenly infuriated, Kyre shoots up, lunging at the thin man and pressing him against the wall. The gun clatters to the side as he squeezes the older man's wrist. More of the children behind him begin crying, but aside from the ringing in his ears and the faint red coating his vision, he truly cannot hear or see anything else.

"I see you dare to defy me," the man drawls, spitting at Kyre.

Before he can properly filter the words through his brain, Kyre's begging. "Please don't hurt them. Do any-anything you want to me, but don't... not the others. Please."

The man snickers, but his voice has dropped to a smooth timbre. "Are you sure about that, dearest? Will you agree to all our conditions?"

"As long..." Kyre licks his chapped lips, "as long as you don't hurt the others. In any way." I'll keep the kids safe and find us a way out.

He's cackling now, and every one of his gleeful expressions only makes Kyre more uneasy. "Oh, of course. You said you'd do anything, hmm?"

"I... yes."

"Then let go."

Kyre loosens his hold, and he's kicked down so that he's kneeling before the taller man, who unlocks the door.

"Everyone but this boy, out."

The children scramble to leave with soft but quick footsteps. It's quiet for a moment after the door closes, and Kyre's eyes dart around for an escape. But other than the door, and the out-of-reach window narrow enough to allow only a few papers through, he's out of luck.

"You don't understand what we do here, do you?" he snarls, inching closer to Kyre.

The first kick lands on Kyre's shoulder, effectively knocking him on his side, but Kyre manages to grab the other man's leg, rolling to pull him down.

Three more men -- bigger, stronger ones -- bang open the door as Kyre smashes fist after fist into the thin man's face until he's bleeding from the back of his head and the nose, completely limp.

Kyre's knuckles are torn and raw already but he forces himself to stand up in a fighting stance again, ready to face off against the burly men in tactical gear. If he's going down, he's not going down without a fight.

He tries going for the legs again, but is quickly kneed in the stomach and shoved back onto the ground.

"Stop fighting and we'll take it easy on you," one of the men warns, pressing on to his neck while twisting his arm. Ignoring the pain from the nearly dislocated shoulder, Kyre rolls onto his back, preparing to kick.

He's punched in the cheek before he can make another move, though, the side of his face pressing against the concrete.

Flickering stars dance in his vision as the familiar taste of metal fills his mouth, crimson red pooling beside him. Is it his blood?

Kyre moves himself onto his side, trying to get rid of the spinning feeling, but to no avail.

A kick to the abdomen jostles his organs, forcing a torrent of sour vomit out onto the puddle of blood. Going unconscious would be convenient right about now, but his body just won't give up for some reason.

Kyre's able to take a few more gut kicks without throwing up, but the nausea increases nonetheless, as do the dull throbs throughout his body. The bruises and cuts are fine; they'll heal by themselves quickly enough, but he'll have to do something about the nausea.

He kicks someone's shin, and then groin as he pushes himself away from the blood and vomit. The gun's in the corner of the room; if he can just grab the gun--

A strong punch knocks the wishful thinking right out of his head, and Kyre's entire body drops against the concrete, more bruises blossoming all over his scraped skin.

When one of the men grabs his wrists, pinning him down, he twists, sending a needle-like pain through his shoulder and down his right side. Before he can stop himself, he lets out a groan, his muscles relaxing on their own.

The men take advantage of this immediately, pressing every one of his limbs down on the ground as Kyre coughs. His throat burns when he does, springing tears to his eyes as he lays there, completely spent.

"You done fighting now?" someone asks, and Kyre's eyes flutter closed, too exhausted to stay open.

#whump #whump writing #whump community #whumpee #whumper #vomiting #whumpblr #whump scenario #original character #ocs #writing #whump fic #sickfic #whump series #original writing #original series #hell's right hand #sorry kyre T^T

[estevesia-whump]

hell's right hand (1.2): from the shadows

CW/TW: not much

note: this one is a bit of a filler that provides context for character background and future events; if you're only here for the whump feel free to skip!

-

Aurelie drives quickly, but the way she stops and accelerates isn't jerky, so Liexia's quite comfortable on the car roof.

"You're gonna call your mom, right?" Evander asks as they drive over a bridge. "You said--"

"Yeah, I'm calling her."

She turns down the brightness of her screen to match the dark of the night before dialing her mom's number. It rings twice, and then her mom is on the line.

"What do you need, Liexia?"

She's disappointed. Whatever.

"I've got an injured guy with me. We're heading to one of Yanglun-shu's* motels, the one south of Heilonsk. It's probably an hour from where you are right now?"

"Liexia, this is the third time you've asked me to--"

"He's been... he's been raped, Ma. Please?"

A long sigh. "What's the address?"

*note: "shu", or "shushu" is an honorific used to address an older male that is around your parents' age

-

It only takes another half an hour to get to the motel. Most of the kids have already fallen asleep, and Kyre has as well, so Evander and Aurelie carry them one by one into the motel as Liexia checks in. The receptionist looks just about asleep, probably not quite registering the metallic smell of blood. Liexia takes her gloves off as the keys are handed over and goes to the rooms she booked.

"You only booked two?" Evander whispers, gently placing one of the children on the first bed.

"Four beds total. 3 kids per bed. You can sleep next to Kyre on the last bed if you want. Aurie and I need to get in contact with their parents as soon as we can, so we're not gonna sleep tonight."

"Did you guys plan this out already?"

"Yeah. It's fine. You've done basically all the heavy lifting today. You need to rest."

Evander snorts softly. "Ironic coming from you."

"Shut up and get the kids in here. My mom'll be here in half an hour to check on Kyre."

-

"Nothing looks infected so far. It looks worse than it really is. That is one lucky boy. I'll have to take a urine sample to test for other things once he wakes up, so keep him hydrated, okay? Did you book a room for me as well?" Liexia's mom asks.

"I can if you want."

"No need."

It's silent in the hallway, and her mom looks away. "Liexia, I really don't think this is the path for you. Even if you want to go the... mercenary route, at least work under your father. Whatever you're doing right now is dangerous, and you're involving Evander and Aurelie at a time where your peers are starting to consider university."

"But I don't need university, Ma. I make enough money already."

"It's not about the money. I'm worried about your safety. Evander and Aurelie's safety. And the people you're hurting..."

"They deserved it," Liexia hisses, biting her tongue before she can say more. "And who'll protect the innocent, if not me?"

"What you're doing is not protecting the innocent, Liexia. You need to let the authorities deal with the things you are taking into your own hands."

"But they don't do anything! If I had let the authorities get there before me today, everyone would've walked free. You don't get it."

Eyebrows furrowed, her mother can only look away. "I can't tell you what to do anymore, Liexia, but just know that your father has positions open for you if you ever want to rejoin the organization. I'm going to book myself a room and get some sleep. Wake me up once the boy wakes up."

"Yeah. G'night."

Liexia turns around to enter the room where six of the children are sleeping soundly and Aurelie is waiting.

"Any ways of contacting their parents?" Liexia asks, lowering her voice as soon as the door is locked behind her.

Aurelie scratches her neck. "I tried all the phone numbers the kids gave me earlier. They don't... they don't exist anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"I tried looking up the kids' names on the government-- point is, someone erased them, or something. Legally, they don't exist... honestly, I'm really confused right now. I've never seen this before."

Liexia sighs. "If you're confused, I'm more confused. Let me see the laptop."

"Wait, I also found a USB," Aurelie says, plugging it in.

Liexia flips through the files, but the USB only contains videos, no documents. "Where'd you get this again? The USB?"

"It was in the security part of the building. You killed the guard, remember? So I went in to look for anything important after you kept going, but this USB was all they had plugged in to the computer. That's it."

"Ah. Have you watched any of the videos yet?"

Aurelie shakes her head. "I don't think I want to see, or I won't forget, ever. Literally."

"I know. We don't have time to watch every single one of them, either. I'll just--wait, is that?"

The mouse hovers over the thumbnail of all the children, Kyre included, gathered in one room. Without properly thinking it through, Liexia clicks on it.

#original writing #original series #hell's right hand #whump series #there's no whump in this chapter but there will be plenty of it in the next!

[estevesia-whump]

hell's right hand (1.1): the beginning of the beginning

CW/TW: SA (not graphic but it's implied), torture (also not very graphic), abuse, blood, killing (implied), captivity, nausea/dry heaving (brief)

note: the mcs are 18-19 in this and nothing bad happens to the younger kids

-

He can tell from the slight changes in light filtering through the sliver of a window that it's been 10 days, at least, though it's only a rough estimate since he stopped counting at 5. He does know for sure that he needs to leave, somehow, but the second he was dumped in this concrete room, he knew there was no way out. No matter how hard he fought at the start, it only managed to drain out the remainder of his energy.

Something stings, or maybe everything stings, or maybe nothing at all. He's been checking himself for broken bones each time he wakes up and before he falls asleep, but all he can see are the bruises, scrapes and hickeys littered all over his arms, legs and chest. There's dried blood down his inner thighs, and probably on his back as well but he can't be sure. It's okay. They'll clean him soon.

It hurts to sit, so he curls up on the cold floor, back against the wall. Not the most comfortable, but it's better this than to have consistent throbs shooting through his pelvis and up his lower spine.

A few days ago, they stopped bothering to tie him down because he was too tired to do much, so it's just the ankle cuffs now. At least he won't have rope burns.

They clean him up every day (he thinks it's every day, but it might be twice a day -- either way, there's a pattern), blindfold him and bring him to a different room, one where he's cuffed to a bed. The softness doesn't feel good, though, because he's quickly thrust into until he's sticky and sweaty all over and he's sobbing and shaking and begging for it all to stop. It burns from the inside, a searing pain that leaves him feeling raw all over.

He then gets washed and dragged back to the concrete room afterwards. He's hit if he's still crying, so he usually tries to quell the tears, leaving him with a lump in his throat and nausea building in his gut. A plate is pushed in front of him, and he's instructed to eat. Usually it's bread or congee, still lukewarm.

The food itself isn't bad, but he's lucky if he can stomach it especially after the ordeal just minutes prior. If he doesn't eat it in an allotted time, it's taken away. If he throws up, he gets cleaned up and beaten again, but never enough to cause serious damage, unfortunately. He wishes they would deal some actual injuries, though, and then maybe they would just leave him alone.

There's an order to it that he gets used to eventually. He's allowed water every few hours. Food is allowed after he's been on that bed with a stranger (it seems to be a different person each time, judging from the different voices). He sleeps when he can, but it's never for a long time because he's woken up either by a throbbing pain or by one of his handlers shaking him awake.

This is his fault, though. He should've been more careful, should've listened to his parents. Where are his parents? He wonders if they're alright, if they miss him -- the mere thought makes him chuckle weakly. Of course they don't. They're probably celebrating that he's gone.

The door bangs open with a clang, and he's being manhandled, scrubbed down with soap and water, blindfolded and brought to that damned bedroom.

It doesn't hurt as much anymore. Maybe he's just gotten used to it, or maybe everything else just hurts so much that he can't pinpoint the pain. Whoever's with him this time finishes more quickly than the other ones, and Kyre gasps for air when he's done.

It's time for the other men to come in and clean him up now, but nothing happens.

A few seconds of just panting, then the man inside of Kyre falls to the side and the room goes quiet.

Someone, a girl, judging by the sound of the voice, swears. The man is pulled off of him, landing on the ground with a thunk and the cuffs and blindfold are removed, but he doesn't open his eyes, too exhausted to move.

"What's your name?" the voice asks.

What is his name? He hasn't heard it in a while... "K-Ky? ...Kyre."

"Can you open your eyes for me?"

"'M ti...tired," he mumbles, turning his face to the side.

"I can see that. Just open your eyes, please."

Whoever it is sounds urgent, so he forces himself to open his eyes and is met with the face of a girl wearing a helmet. Her face relaxes a little, and he closes his eyes again.

She's trying to help him sit up now, but the movement makes him dizzy and before he knows it, he's dry heaving and he's not sure which way is up so she turns him on his side and pats his back.

"Were you drugged?" she asks once the retching dies down a little.

He shakes his head.

"You sure?"

What do you mean, am I sure?

She sighs. "Let me find you some clothes and then we'll get out of here."

There's rustling, and then she's trying to put pants on him.

A weak moan escapes his lips when she pulls the pants up, scraping the wounds on his legs, and in the stinging pain and buzzing in his ears, for once, he can't feel a thing.

-

So the kid's name is Kyre, apparently. Why does it sound so familiar?

Liexia fumbles around the room, underneath the bed for any clothes she can put on the boy, and finally resorts to the clothes of the man she just killed. There's blood all over his shirt, so she takes the pants that are thrown off to the side. She'll get Kyre a shirt later.

She hoists him up, making sure to keep his head stabilized as he groans, blinking slowly.

"Wh-wha?"

"You passed out for a second there," she tells him. "Don't lean back, 'kay?"

For the amount of muscle he's got on him, he's a lot lighter than she expects, but not light enough to comfortably throw over one shoulder. She resorts to a pack strap carry, and from there, it's not too difficult to get him out of the room and past the bodies in the hallway.

Evander's waiting for her outside with the rest of the kids, who are playing with him and all seem to be fine, shaken at most, thankfully. For some reason, Kyre's the only one that's visibly hurt at all.

The moment he spots her, Evander jogs over to help carry Kyre to the group.

"You got everyone in there?" he asks, intentionally keeping his voice quiet.

"Yup. Made sure they were all dead before I went further in."

"I meant the victims, Liexia."

"He's the only one."

Evander frowns. "What?"

"Yeah. It was just him -- his name's Kyre, by the way -- and the little kids. Did you get their names and ages?"

"Aurelie did."

"Where is she right now?" Liexia asks, looking around.

"She's getting the car."

"We don't have enough seats, though," she replies. "I assume she's driving, and even if both of us don't get in the car, we'll only have 7 seats left. And how many kids are there? Ten?"

"Nine, not including Kyre. It's fine. We could have all the kids squeeze in the back, and one of us can call the authorities and get Kyre some medical care while everyone else drives to the motel. I can take the fall for this if--"

"No, I dragged you two into this, so it's my responsibility." Liexia sighs. "And nothing's gonna happen. We're not in the wrong, for the record, they are, so we're not calling the authorities. They'll find the bodies themselves and deal with it accordingly."

"You do realize the authorities are still going to find you either way, right? You killed a pretty high profile guy in there."

"So? I've done that multiple times even before you and Aurelie joined me. The authorities haven't gotten me once. We'll bring Kyre to the motel with us and I'll have my mom treat him."

"Can he wait that long?"

"He doesn't seem to be drugged, Ev. It's fine."

"Just because he doesn't seem to be drugged doesn't mean he isn't!"

Aurelie pulls up to the curb with the car at that moment, headlights on. "Get in."

Evander has the kids file in first, managing to fit the five older ones in the back row. Three smaller kids sit next to Evander in the middle row with the smallest boy on his lap, while Liexia helps Kyre into the passenger seat and clips the seatbelt.

The car doors close and Liexia climbs up to the car roof, clipping herself onto the top bars.

Aurelie rolls down her window. "Ready, Liexia?"

"Yup."

The car begins moving down the gravel road, away from the now abandoned building tainted of blood.

-

interested in reading more?

Synopsis of 1st arc of series: Liexia, the 18 year-old daughter of a renowned gang boss, goes on missions for what she views as justice: cleansing the world of criminals that are above the law. But when she leaves a trace for the first time in years, a private military corporation tracks her down and will use whatever means necessary to turn her into a full-fledged mercenary.

#whump #whump writing #whump community #whumpee #whumpblr #whump scenario #original character #ocs #writing #whump fic #sickfic #original whump #whump series #original writing #original series #hell's right hand