Pay-to-Play (Tower: Day 121)
for Angstpril, Day 14: Cruelty
cw: implied mistreatment/violence, ableism, adult language, whumper pov
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For someone like Wade Mitchell—who had enough super strength to label him as 'powered' but not enough to get him a hero gig—Tower guard was a fantastic job.
It came with all the benefits; hazard pay, two weeks' paid vacation, dental, and even a retirement plan. And on top of all of those, there were some pretty lucrative bonuses you could get if you signed up for the right duty. Project Bullfrog paid the best, but Wade didn't really have the stomach (or patience) to assist with the weird experiments taking place on the Tower's lowest levels. Rentals, on the other hand, was about as easy as putting in overtime. The only draw was not being able to talk about it.
That part sucked. Wade wished he could gossip to his friends about all the rich people that came through, and every senator, every millionaire who signed up for the program only intensified that desire.
Today's customer wasn't anyone special though, just some businessman. It wasn't him that got Wade excited, it was the prisoner he'd requested for one-on-one time. Wade's little pet project. Alexei Wilder.
Wilder was never on the top of visitors' lists; most people who could afford a time slot at the Tower went for famous supervillains. Rookie heroes who wanted to feel better about themselves. Rich guys who wanted to feel tough. People who wanted to brag, "I beat the living daylights out of Stormcrawler," at a party, while leaving out the part about Stormcrawler being restrained, in power-nullifying gear.
It was kinda pathetic. Wade himself would never sign up, even if he had the money. Doing it for free, to remind the Tower's occupants who was in charge here, was a different story.
Wade's part to play in Rentals was getting the chosen prisoners ready, make sure the customer was good to go, and then clean up whatever mess they left behind. All part of the routine, but today was almost a proud moment. Armless's first time being noticed by someone who sorta mattered, even if that someone just wanted a chance to kick the shit out of him.
He pushed the cell door open, grinning at the way his charge shrank back from the light. He'd been muttering to himself again, weird little mumbo-jumbo rhymes. Four months into his stay and he was already going bonkers. What a loser.
"Guess what, scum? You have a visitor today."
Wilder, as usual, didn't respond. Wade huffed in annoyance.
"I'm gonna clean you up for him. You know the drill. Be good."
Sometimes he didn't even know why he bothered. Making sure the guy was able to wash, combing out the tangles in his hair, even brushing his fucking teeth for him, and never getting so much as a 'thank you' in return.
At least today, Wilder didn't struggle. Most days he didn't, not anymore, but every once in a while he seemed to get an idea in his head that he could actually fight Wade off. As if.
"Alright," he said once he was done. "Hold still."
Transportation to anywhere outside a prisoner's cell required them to be either blindfolded or unconscious. It was partly to make things easier, and partly to prevent detainees from learning the building's layout.
Fortunately (for the prisoner), Wilder didn't even move as Wade tied on the blindfold and fitted a second, stronger power dampener over his right ankle. With a customer, you could never be too careful.
It was actually kind of lame how compliant the prisoner was these days. Wade wondered if the other man was scared of him now. After Wilder's little incident with a few visiting members of the city council, the guards on his block had been ordered to dole out a punishment, and none of them had held back. Wade had almost felt a little guilty afterwards, almost. But the negative feelings had dissolved by the end of the day, before he'd even clocked out. He'd picked up sushi on the way home, turned on the TV, and forgot about it. The people in the Tower were locked up for a reason. You didn't have to feel bad about anything you did to them; if anything, you should count yourself lucky that you got to make a difference.
He guided the prisoner down the hall, forgetting to warn the blindfolded man about the stairs ahead, but managing to catch him before anything could happen. Close one.
The space set aside for Rentals wasn't anything special; just a wide, tiled room with a drain in the center to make cleanup easy. There were two doors to the chamber, one for the customer to enter, one for the prisoner. The session would be recorded, but that was just another vein of profit. The only one monitoring would be Wade, and the only hard limit was murder.
He unlocked the prison-side door and pushed Wilder inside, not bothering to take off the blindfold before moving to the second door to meet with the customer. It was always more entertaining when the selected prisoner didn't know what was going on, and Rentals' patrons seemed to prefer their targets as helpless as possible.
The customer was about as typical as they got here; businessman in his 30s or 40s, trying to dress for action but looking like he was about to go golfing. He might've even been a regular. Wade wouldn't know.
"All ready?" the man asked.
"All yours," Wade nodded. "I'll be watching to ensure your safety, but in the event of an emergency, there's a button by the door," he said, reciting the same spiel he gave every customer. "If you decide you'd like to incorporate some tools in today's session, just give me a knock and let me know what you want."
The man only gave a shrug, as if to say 'here goes nothing', and pushed the door open. Before it closed again, Wade caught a glimpse of Wilder—backed into a corner, his shoulders hunched, his lips moving like he was muttering to himself again—and smiled. Poor bastard had no idea what was about to hit him.
He moved to his usual chair and did a quick scan of the system, ensuring the emergency countermeasures were online and a healer was on standby, then switched on the cameras.
Time to enjoy the show.
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@whumpacabra @enteredin2eternity @kixngiggles @whumpsday @kiichu @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @shywhumpauthor @distinctlywhumpthing
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@midgarwhispers liked for a starter.
one dead, two dead, three dead-
and by the fourth, he's lost count. their cries mean nothing, their words mean even less. the few who don't scream - beg, but what they don't seem to realise is that, hell, he's doing them a favour. taking them out before the shinra get their chance to. no; the people of the saucer shouldn't see dyne as a monster, they should be seeing him as their liberator.
and for any too afraid to take themselves out ( those like him ), he's giving them the ultimate out. a gesture said with love; a bullet - right through their heart.
when he reaches her; poor looking thing, light eyes and skin - an expression unlike the others - he's out of bullets.
one click, two click, three click-
his gunarm lets him ( and maybe her, too ) down today.
and with disappointment, he cocks a brow and tugs lips with a half-smirk. a shrug of his shoulders as he sneers -
"huh - guess it aint your day then-" he'd laugh were words not barely a croak "maybe 'nother time-"
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i think my ask was eaten up by tumblr (or this is a repeat, my bad if it is)
anyway! hello sreedy! hypothetical anon back again with a new question.
what do you think would happen if canon!sokka met LIAB!sokka?
I’m sorry I have been slacking on answering asks but I think this is a really cool concept!!
I like to think of canon Sokka as somewhat childish, a but outwardly immature and still using humor & sarcasm to communicate. So I think seeing LIAB Sokka would make him uncomfortable at first so he’d probably try to play it off by saying something that was meant to be funny & it was totally NOT funny…
Canon Sokka: “Wow sick scars!! I look so badass!”
LIAB Sokka: “you wouldn’t be saying that if you experienced all the pain that went along with them.”
Canon Sokka: “yeah well I’m sure I get all the ladies with this rugged, badass look!”
LIAB Sokka: “Nope. Just Zuko.”
Canon Sokka: “oh ew Zuko is so gross and annoying -“
*LIAB Sokka punches Canon Sokka in the face*
-end scene-
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PETER PARKER / starter [...]
for @failrobin
peter's certainly not in kansas anymore.
he's looking out across a worryingly unfamiliar skyline overcast by a half-filled moon, vision obscured by scattered clouds of POLLUTION that seem to hover over the streets, dark and ominous. he doesn't recognize any of it at all. his spider-sense trickles in like a steady stream the longer he's standing there analytically picking apart his surroundings, hairs rising up on the back of his neck. it's warning him but he doesn't know about what. the unease coats him like a second skin.
he only comes to his senses when there's a gunshot in the distance, SHARP AND LOUD, unmistakable even in his blatant confusion.
he'll figure out where he is later. right, now someone needs his help.
he shakes some looseness back into his limbs and takes a grand leap off the building he's on, using his webs to pull him in an arch down the streets. there's a distinct lack of TRAFFIC where he is, smog hitting the lenses of his mask. he still manages to find his way.
then he lands silently at the open end of an alley a few blocks down in his signature crouch, rising to his full height to check his webshooters and make sure he has enough for whatever idea he's cooking in his head. peter pipes up.
" is the gun really necessary? crooks like this can be subdued just as well with a little- " he flicks his wrist and a glob of webbing hits the hand of whom he assumes is the instigator, brandishing a knife and a manic gleam in his eye. for peter- you friendly neighborhood spider-man- it is SLIGHTLY unnerving, " -finesse! "
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