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The One Thing I Care About
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Febuwhump Prompt - "Help Them."
Prompt - ‘That's the thing about caring about somebody...they can always be used against you.“
You could feel the cold, damp floor under your knees, could hear the constant sound of rain dripping through the cracks in the roof, could smell the dead body that was already in the room as you were dragged in and you could feel the tight zip ties that bound your wrists and ankles together.
What you couldn’t do was see anything.
You didn’t know how long you’d been taken for, had no idea where you were. All you knew was that one minute you were outside Frank’s apartment with a bag full of take out food and the next a group of men were grabbing you, covering your eyes and tying your hands, leaving you struggling with no chance of getting out.
From there you were thrown in the trunk of a car, the heat outside was already unbearable and being trapped in the trunk had you choking, desperately trying to catch your breath as sweat ran down your forehead, mixing with the tears that slipped past the blindfold.
Eventually you were pulled out of the trunk and dragged into the room you were in now, the men throwing you to the floor before you felt fists and boots connect with any part of your body they could, leaving you a sobbing mess on the floor as they finished up and left the room.
Pain spread through your entire body but you knew you had to get out of there, how you were going to do that you had no idea but sitting around waiting for whatever was to come wasn’t an option. So you struggled against the zip ties, wishing you had listened to Frank’s lessons on survival more rather than just laughing and rolling your eyes at him, promising you’d never need to use them.
Apparently the bad guys didn’t agree with that and when they couldn’t get The Punisher then they’d just take his girl and wait for him. It wasn’t a bad plan either, except for the part where none of them, no matter how many weapons they had, no matter just how many people were a part of this, none of them stood a chance against Frank Castle.
Getting free of your restraints was useless so instead you switched to trying to get the blindfold off, hoping for half a clue about your surroundings, knowing you’d get nothing about exactly where they had taken you but you could work with the things left in the room, hopefully there was something sharp enough laying around that could cut the zip ties.
But after an hour of shifting around awkwardly on the floor whilst trying to push through the pain, you hadn’t gotten very far. The knot tying the blindfold was tight, painfully tight around your head and you had to stop when you heard footsteps, crawling as far away from the direction of them as you could until you hit a wall.
You startled as the door slammed open, the sound echoing around the room before more footsteps sounded, branching off in different directions around the room. You missed the man who squatted down in front of you, only aware of him when you flinched from his touch, him grabbing your chin in between his fingers and tilting your head side to side before he let go and moments later you felt a fist connect to the side of your head causing you to bite your lip, hard enough to bleed, to suppress a cry of pain.
“Oh, it’s going to be fun killing you,” The man said, fingers trailing across the newest cut on your cheek and despite the pain you still managed to smile before huffing a laugh.
“He’s gonna kill you.” You managed to choke out, barely suppressing a grimace at the taste of blood in your mouth before you spat it at him, taking great delight in the disgusted noise you got in return.
“No sweetheart, he isn’t. I’m going to kill you, slowly, painfully and Frank Castle is going to watch it all.” He snarled as he took your jaw painfully in his hand, bringing your faces close together before he threw you onto the floor, your head connecting with it painfully.
The sounds of chuckles, a few more kicks to your chest and the sound of fading footsteps were all you were aware of before passing out.
Frank knew something was wrong when you were late. He’d tried calling you countless times before he threw the phone across the room, the only sound to be heard was Frank’s panting breaths and the sound of a phone smashing against the wall before hitting the ground.
Then the sound of guns being assembled and bags being filled with ammo and whatever weapons Frank could stuff into them filled the room. Once he was done he flew out the door, throwing the bags into the van before slamming the door and starting the engine.
Whoever thought they could take you and get away with it had another thing coming.
You awoke when you heard shouting, a man and a woman, the man pleading and the woman shouting threats. You flinched as you heard a gunshot followed by the sound of the man groaning and crying as the woman sobbed heartbrokenly.
“That will be you soon enough.” A voice sounded next to your ear causing you to jump and try and move away but you couldn’t and had to feel him run his fingers through your hair, gripping it tightly as he pulled a knife out and stabbed it into your thigh before ripping it out causing you to sob. Your body tried to move on its own accord but the man was still holding your hair, keeping you in place. “He’s coming.” The man told you before he stood to leave.
You waited until they had left the room, the only sounds were that of the woman crying, the man's laboured breathing and you forcing cries down and panting heavily against the pain in your now bloody thigh
“Hey,” You managed to grit out, hearing the woman shift, “Can you move?”
“No, my hands,” She choked out, “They’re tied.”
Her words caused you to scrunch your eyes shut behind the blindfold as you silently cursed.
“He’s going to die.” The woman said and you bit your lip, trying to find the right words to comfort her but there were none.
“My boyfriend-” You began, swallowing against the vomit that threatened to come up” You know The Punisher? He’s coming, he’s coming and he’ll kill them all.”
The woman said nothing, only continued crying and you leaned back hating how helpless you felt, tugging against your restraints with no luck. You felt dizzy, the sudden blood loss had you fighting to stay conscious, you couldn’t fall asleep…you couldn’t.
The sound of gunshots ringing through the building were the first thing you heard when you forced your way back to consciousness, cursing yourself for giving into the blood loss so easily but smiled as you knew exactly who was causing so much noise.
“He’s here.” You slurred out, laughing slightly as you did.
The door slammed open and you sobbed as you were forced up, feeling the wound on your thigh gush more blood as a gun was held to your head. The sound of footsteps coming to a halt at the door had you smiling, knowing it was Frank.
“Let her go, you got me.” You sobbed at the sound of Frank’s voice and despite the gun to your head you relaxed automatically.
“Yes I do,” The man holding you smirked, “But we both know just killing you would be too easy, you care about her.”
“I said let her go!” Frank snapped, not lowering his gun as he desperately tried to get a shot, any shot that would take the man down before he could pull his own trigger.
“Not happening, Castle! You kill my men, I take the one thing you care about.” The man laughed and you knew Frank well enough to know he’d have the gun trained at him, knew he’d be finding a way to kill the man without hurting you.
The man’s grip on you wasn’t tight, obviously expecting the fear of the gun against your temple to scare you into stillness but he was wrong. You hated that you couldn’t see Frank but you didn’t need to, you trusted him to move in sync with you.
You took a deep breath as silently as possible, mouthed at Frank to be ready causing him to cock an eyebrow up but didn’t show any other signs that you were going to do anything. He just tightened his finger on the trigger waiting for your move.
You threw your head back, managing to headbutt the man in the face before you threw yourself onto the floor, crying as the pain from your thigh spread through your entire body, it felt like it was on fire but the sound of the gunshot cut through the pain and you couldn’t help but laugh even as the tears fell from your face.
Seconds later Frank was crouched down in front of you, gently pulling the blindfold from your face. You smiled up at him, beyond relieved to see him smiling down at you, leaning into the touch as he cupped your cheeks and brushed away your tears.
Your eyes trailed past him and you saw the woman you’d spoken to earlier crying over her boyfriend's body, not sure if he was alive or not.
“Help them.” You whispered to Frank and watched as he frowned before following your gaze and looking at the couple as if he hadn’t seen him when he entered the room.
“Gotta look after you.” You murmured back, pulling a knife out of his pocket and easily cutting at the zipties and dragging you into his arms, holding you against his chest and you couldn’t help but let more tears fall as you gripped the bulletproof vest, smiling as he pressed his lips to your head and letting them rest there.
You pulled away soon enough though, leaning up to kiss his jaw.
“Help them.” You said again, looking Frank in the eyes and watched him roll them before he nodded.
“I’ll be right back, baby.” He told you, placing a kiss to your forehead again before making his way over to them.
“Hi, I’m Frank,” He smiled at the woman and you watched with a grin as he spoke softly to her before leaning down and picking her boyfriend up after cutting her restraints and led them out of the room.
You didn’t let your eyes wander over to the dead body, just shut them as you leaned your head against the wall and let yourself fall into a light sleep knowing that you were safe, Frank was always going to keep you safe.
_______________
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An Angel’s Ransom
You just refuse to bend So I keep bending ‘til I break - Right Here [Staind] Febuwhump Day 21: “Torture” | Fandom: Overwatch (Pre-Fall) | Angela / Gabriel
AO3 | FF.net | Works
They had blindfolded her and half–carried her along; she wasn’t sure, but she thought that they had taken her underground. A door opened, the sound echoing hollowly. Before she could consider her location too much, Angela was shoved unceremoniously to her knees; if it weren’t for the Valkyrie suit they hadn’t stripped from her, she knew it would have been painful. “What are you doing?” Angela demanded breathlessly, as if she were in any kind of position to demand anything. She was ignored as they yanked roughly at her arms. Her wrists were handcuffed, the metal biting deep enough into her wrists that – even through the Valkyrie suit – she could feel it, above her head on either side of her. They were pulled back slightly, just enough to strain at her shoulders no matter how she shifted. Angela didn’t particularly want to be cooperative in her capture, but she didn’t struggle – she didn’t think anything good could come of her resistance. Then again, nothing good had come from her capitulation, either. Brusquely, they moved to chain her ankles together, pressing them so tightly together that Angela doubted even a hair could fit between them. It left her kneeling uncomfortably on the ground, forced to hold her weight either in her thighs or to rest awkwardly on her ankles as she was pulled ever so slightly backwards. It was then that they removed the blindfold. Blinking, Angela took in her surroundings. The floor was hard–packed dirt that was nearly as unyielding as concrete. Tarp and plastic covered the walls; what wasn’t covered looked to be the same material as the floor beneath her. The space was lit by two bare bulbs, hanging loose on their wires that drooped haphazardly from the ceiling. The man left the room, slamming the door – metal instead of wood, surprisingly – behind him. Before the echo could fade away, Angela was pulling against the chains that bound her. It was a fruitless venture that didn’t last very long – the chains were too strong to pull away from the wall or apart from itself, and they were too tight against her flesh to allow her to do anything more than flay her skin. Angela worried at her lip briefly, considering her situation – which was rather grim, all–in–all. She had no idea where she was. They hadn’t used an aircraft to take her away – probably because Overwatch would have noticed such a thing – so Angela knew she couldn’t be too far away from where she had been captured. Still, that left a lot of places to hide. Based on the room she was in – and the stairs she was pretty sure they’d carried her down – it could be an unfinished construction site or even the beginnings of a basement addition to an existing building. She didn’t know who had captured her. She did know they were vicious and ruthless – there had been no reason to kill those civilians, except for the fact that that room had seen the three men who had taken Angela. They also had left her staff behind; that was a marvel of medical engineering that many would kill to get their hands on. Briefly, Angela hoped that the staff made it back to Overwatch instead of enemy hands. She didn’t even know what they wanted from her. No one had spoken to her after that man’s declaration: ‘I lied.’ That Angela was chained away in this room told her that she wasn’t wanted for her medical expertise – if they had, wouldn’t they have just taken her to whatever room or ward their injured or sick were within? But, she did know some things. There was no end to the knowledge they might want to pull from her, whether it was Overwatch or medical in nature. She was a valuable asset, even if she weren’t a soldier or military leader. She knew her position as Chief of Medicine was a dangerous one – though, of course, not nearly as dangerous as the roles Jack or Gabriel held. That she went into the field as a combat medic only added to that fact. She was the innovative, ground–breaking medical researcher that had developed nanotechnology that had revolutionized the world. Based on limited conversations and stupid movies that Gabriel had picked for them to watch, Angela also knew that her chances for survival were low. They hadn’t hidden their faces from her, and they had killed all witnesses to her capture, after all. She shifted again, doing her best to find a comfortable position even as she knew it was impossible, and tried to stave off her terror and grief.
---
Angela hated sitting idle, alone with nothing but her thoughts to occupy her. She had already exhausted her worry for what might happen to her here at the hands of these men. From the absolute best–case scenario – where the chains were all she faced – to the worst–case scenario – where she was brutalized and left to bleed out slowly: Angela had tormented herself through them all. Considering her medical expertise and history with traumatic injuries, it wasn’t hard to imagine all sorts of horrors happening to her here. Now she was stewing in guilt. Angela had caused the deaths of – at least – twenty men, women, and children. While she may not have pulled the trigger herself, they had only died because Angela had come to them. They may not have survived – probably would not have survived – without medical attention; where typically her presence guaranteed survival, this time it had guaranteed nothing but death. It was agony, despair eating at her from the inside. Angela was no stranger to death and the guilt that it brought – but this? The screams still echoed in her ears, hours later. Angela knew they would haunt her nightmares for years to come, just as surely as whatever she would face in this room would – assuming she ever left it. Her cool, calm facade – the outward face of Dr. Ziegler that everyone saw, that caused people to whisper that she was ‘cold’ and ‘unfeeling’ – was normally summoned and held with barely a thought. Here in this room, where the fear of the unknown and her hopeless thoughts ran free, she found herself struggling to hold onto it. But her pride demanded that she not give these men – these monsters – anything that they did not drag out of her.
---
She was exhausted. Angela, per her usual, had only slept a fitful six–or–so hours before waking up on this horrible day. It had been only a handful of hours later that she had left Zürich in her Valkyrie suit. Angela had no way of telling how long she had been held here in this room of dirt, but she knew it had been hours. The adrenaline had worn off long ago, leaving only nervous anxiety and nauseating terror. Fear was exhausting. The chains, forcing her to hold the uncomfortable positioning, were exhausting. Her whole body tensed when the door opened again, head jerking up to watch three men enter the room; none were familiar to her, though one, surprisingly, had his face covered. One busied himself against the wall directly across from her; she ignored him in favor of the two approaching her. “I trust you have found your accommodations acceptable, Dr. Ziegler.” The one directly before her remarked cheerfully as the third man – the one whose face she couldn’t see – peeled away to stand somewhere behind her. It was an act of will to not crane her neck to see where he went; instead, she fixed her eyes on the speaker. “Your bedside manner is lacking,” Angela responded acerbically. She knew she shouldn’t push – this wasn’t her home, where it was safe to say such things – but fear made her tongue looser than it should be. “I would be more than happy to give you some lessons.” Surprisingly, the man threw his head back and laughed – and then struck her face, hard and fast. Angela’s teeth caught the inside of her cheek, and she could taste blood as her head turned with the force of the blow. The pain was sharp but brief as the Valkyrie suit wicked it away. The surprise – and the visceral fear – was, unfortunately, left behind. “You will watch how you speak to me, doctor,” he growled. As her tongue probed the inside of her mouth, assessing the damage, the man stepped back. “Now,” his voice was bright again, showing none of the malice from his previous words, “we have much to do.” His eyes moved past her form towards the man behind her. “Proceed.” Rough hands landed upon her suit, wrenching at her right–wing in a manner that was wholly ineffective at removing it from her back. Instead, they cracked it and ripped some of the ‘feathers’ away to scatter around her before leaving it to droop limply. It brushed against her leg, though she wasn’t exactly how bad the damage was. “Perfect,” the speaker announced eventually. The hands pulled away. “It’s all about appearances,” the speaker explained as if imparting some great life advice while the man behind her moved into her line of sight. “I’m sure you, of all people, understand that, Dr. Ziegler.” While Angela was definitely one for keeping up the appearance of professionalism, she had no idea what the man meant in this context. “Now, for the doctor herself.” Before Angela could realize what his words meant, the breath was knocked from her as she was punched in the stomach. The Valkyrie suit may be able to remove pain, but it couldn’t fix her retching and desperate gasps as she tried to regain her breath. Before she fully recovered, Angela took another blow to the chest and a third to the back. “Wait.” The speaker demanded after the fourth blow – a kick to her bound legs. Hard fingers gripped her chin and tipped her head back, the man staring down at her contemplatively. “How interesting,” he remarked after a moment. “I had heard you were emotionless – and that was clearly an exaggeration.” Angela had tried to wall away her terror and mounting horror, but, clearly, her aloof facade was breaking down. “But I didn’t hear that you couldn’t feel pain.” The speaker must have signaled the masked man, because another blow landed heavily against her shoulder blades. “How disappointing,” he sighed. “I hate settling, but we have a timetable to follow.” He released her, stepping back once more. “Rough her face up a bit; at least she can look beaten even if she doesn’t feel it.” He ordered over one shoulder as he went to speak quietly to the third – mostly forgotten – man against the far wall.
It had taken Gabriel almost no time at all to reach the war room. He had only remained in Rome long enough to bark orders and delegate his duties, then he had made his way to Zürich. He had just landed when a grim–faced Jack had met him, urging Gabriel to follow the blonde. It was only the two of them, standing because neither could bear to handle this sitting down, when they watched the recording. It started with proof of life. A device showing four clocks bearing different time–zones was held before the screen in an attempt to prove that this video had been taken less than an hour ago. Gabriel knew there were ways to fake such things, but he held on to the hope that it was true regardless. Then, the device fell away to reveal Angela. She was still in her Valkyrie suit and Overwatch blues. One wing had been damaged and was dangling behind her; Gabriel doubted the damage was done during Angela’s capture, considering the ‘feathers’ scattered around her. No, that had been done deliberately to make her appear more fragile and broken – though Gabriel hoped, prayed, that they would recover her before that truly occurred. Her head was bowed, hair hanging limply to block her face as her shoulders rose and fell in short, panicked breaths. He ground his teeth as he took in the chains that bound her. Gabriel recognized the stress position for what it was; he had too much experience with Blackwatch interrogation not to. He couldn’t tell from the camera’s position how tight they were, but he doubted it was anything comfortable. Then, a man strode into the frame then. In one smooth motion that told Gabriel that this wasn’t the first time that man had done something like this, the man in the video grabbed Angela’s hair and yanked her head back. Gabriel shifted uncomfortably, hands bunching into fists, as he took in Angela’s face. Her eyes were bright and watering. Gabriel wasn’t sure if it was from terror, pain, or just an uncontrollable physical reaction – but it didn’t matter. Already, her face was swelling with the beginnings of bruises and there was blood on her lips. They had gagged her; with what, he wasn’t exactly sure, but it was held in place by a black cord. It was far too tight – he could see where it bit into her cheeks. After a long pause, the man released her hair. Angela allowed her head to drop forward, hiding her face from the camera once more. Gabriel wasn’t sure if it was from exhaustion or some attempt to protect them – him, Jack, anyone else that saw this video – from the sight of her battered face. The man began speaking, listing his demands. First, he wanted the release of five men and two women. Gabriel recognized the names as some of the captives within Blackwatch interrogation cells – and from the way Jack stiffened, Gabriel assumed some of those people were being held by Overwatch. Second, he wanted the Watchpoints in Tashkent, Uzbekistan and Karagandy, Kazakhstan to be dismantled. Finally, he wanted Strike Commander Morrison to be stripped of his position and removed from Overwatch entirely. Were the situation less horrific – if it weren't Angela being held hostage – Gabriel might have made a quip about that last demand. Gabriel's eyes bounced between the speaker and Angela as he spoke. He noticed Angela tense before slumping in resignation at the demands they all knew could never be fulfilled. Not even for the prodigal doctor, their Mercy, could even one of those terms be fulfilled. Once the demands were laid out, the man turned slightly to regard Angela with cold eyes before looking back to the camera. “You have one day to comply with these demands. If, by tomorrow at this time, you have not complied – well.” He looked at Angela again. “Your angel here will bear the weight of your failure.” The video cut out then. “Play it again,” Gabriel demanded; he had to figure out where she was – now that he had heard the message, perhaps there was something in the video that could help find her. After a second viewing, Gabriel sank down into one of the many chairs within the war room to think. “You know we can’t give them what they want.” Jack choked out. Gabriel tensed at the reminder; his people had nothing to go on and hadn’t had luck in finding her yet – there was no way to save her from whatever they had in mind for her tomorrow. “Send the footage to my analyst; maybe he can figure out where it came from,” Gabriel ordered, completely ignoring the blonde's words – as if that were enough to protect Angela. “Cassidy and Genji are out in the field now, searching. I’ll—” “We need you here, Gabe,” Jack interrupted. Gabriel knew, rationally, that he had a responsibility to Blackwatch – and Overwatch. He knew that he couldn't just go off into the field – but it was Angela. “I need to be out there,” he snapped back, even though he knew it was wrong. He knew Angela wouldn’t want him to abandon his duty – his responsibilities – for her sake, but that didn’t matter either. “It could be a trap, Gabe.” Jack reasoned. “They could be using her as bait for either one of us.” While the relationship between Angela and Gabriel was a tightly held secret, the friendship between the three was well known. Jack’s shoulders dropped. “You know she wouldn’t – doesn’t – want us to go after her without a plan.” No, she wouldn’t want them to go after her at all if it meant one of them – one of those she did her best to protect and put back together – would be hurt. “They will break her, Jack.” He whispered finally, one hand over his face as he slumped back in his seat. “Angela is strong,” Jack replied, though Gabriel wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince. They both knew that she was strong – but this required a different kind of strength, a type that Gabriel wasn’t sure Angela had. “We have to find her, Jack.” Gabriel rose; there was far too little time, and there was too much to do – too much to say. God, how he hated Jack at this moment. They had been at odds for the last year, but he hadn’t hated the blonde man until now. Gabriel knew it was irrational – knew Jack wouldn’t risk Angela unnecessarily or without care – but it didn’t matter. “Meet back here in a few hours?” He ground out; there would be time for arguing – time for laying the blame and vengeance – once Angela was recovered. Jack nodded his understanding as Gabriel turned away. Gabriel strode away, heading for the room that had once been his office – and still was, for all intents and purposes.
“It really is too bad that the suit was in the way,” the speaker remarked, one hand running along the Valkyrie suit. They had torn it from her body, destroying some of the buckles and further damaging the wings with their rough handling, before tossing it onto a table they had dragged in – apparently for that express purpose. “A chained angel? What a perfect visual,” the man sighed. “But, I must uphold my end of the bargain since your friends,” he dragged the word out mockingly, “have decided to not to uphold theirs.” Angela had known, even before the terms had been laid out, that Jack – Gabriel – would not have given in. Not even for her could Overwatch capitulate – not without setting a far too dangerous precedent. “Shall we begin, then?” He asked, as if it were really up to her. They struck her from behind this time, eliciting a cry from her; without the Valkyrie suit, Angela was vulnerable to the pain. The blows rained down, battering and bruising her. Mostly she grunted and groaned, though some left her gasping, and once or twice she let out a sharp cry. “That's enough for now.” The speaker announced finally in a bored voice. As she gasped and shook, tears streaking her cheeks, the man continued speaking. “You know my demands. For each day you do not comply, her,” Angela assumed he gestured towards her, “punishment shall only get worse.” Before Angela could get the breath to say anything, to try to yell out something to her friends that would surely see this video, it was too late. What would she say, even if she could? She couldn't tell them it was okay, that she would be fine – not with the bruises peppering her skin and the blood in her mouth. But could she really beg them not to give in, knowing how bad she already hurt and, as the speaker said, that it would only get worse? Angela knew she couldn't beg them to find her, to end this before it went too far. She couldn’t lay that burden on them, not when it was her stubbornness and insistence that had led her to this room. Not when this had always been a possibility every time she went into the field. Not when she knew they were probably half–killing themselves as they searched and drowned in guilt and rage. No, there was nothing – nothing – she could say. One would be a lie, and one would hurt them even more than they already were.
---
The next day, they removed her chains and forced Angela to her feet. Her muscles protested and rebelled, but her captors didn't particularly care about her body’s limitations. They pressed her, chest first, against the wall and chained her arms above her head. She could taste the dirt of the wall with every breath, but that was the least of her problems. It wasn’t long before she discovered her newest punishment: whipping. There was something sharp at the tip that sheared through her thin catsuit and into her back. Angela couldn’t see it, but she knew that there were trails of blood slicking down her back with every stroke. Angela swallowed some of her screams, trying to hold to the knowledge that her friends – that Gabriel – would be seeing this. Still, some burst free along with the tears she tried to keep hidden. Once it was over, they pulled her down from the wall. Instead of chaining her back to the floor, they threw a hood over her head before carrying her bodily out of the room. She didn’t know where they were taking her – or why. Angela briefly entertained the hope that her friends were closing in, so they had to move before they were caught – but she wasn’t convinced. No, the more likely reason was that it was safer now to move her than it had been when they’d initially captured her. Hours later – this time they flew somewhere – she was chained back into the awful, familiar position. This time, the room was drywall and stained concrete; Angela didn’t look too closely at the stains. She tried to force back the despair, but it was hard. Even if her friends had been closing in on her location, she was long gone now – how would they ever find her? Angela knew they couldn’t give in to the demands, wouldn’t give up searching for her – but she didn’t know how long she could hold out.
---
On the fourth day of her capture, they whipped her again. Angela wasn’t sure if she should be grateful that they hadn’t escalated as much as they had promised or not – and then felt disgusted at the very thought. Before they began on the fifth day, the speaker approached her again. The last two days – videos – he had simply been a silent herald of her pain. “It seems you aren’t as valuable as the world has been made to believe, doctor.” He twisted the title into an insult. “It’s terribly disappointing – for you, most of all, I'm sure.” His voice was full of false sympathy – as if he weren’t the one that was orchestrating it all. The man paused, giving her time to reply – but what was there to say? Her pride would not allow her to beg – not yet, anyway – and Angela would not engage him in conversation as if she weren’t his prisoner. “Nothing to say?” He shrugged, a loose, uncaring motion that didn’t match his hard gaze. “That’s alright. You’ll speak soon enough.” With that cryptic remark, he waved at one of his men. They hadn't moved her to the wall – she was still in her uncomfortable, bordering painful, position on the ground – so Angela knew that this had to be an escalation of some sort. They pressed something to the open flesh on her back, just below Angela’s right shoulder blade. Then, her whole body was seizing; her back arched as her legs locked up, her mouth opened in a silent scream as her vision went white. What felt like an eternity later, her vision cleared and she panted, slumping heavily against the chains that held her arms up. “Again.” The speaker ordered; it was all the warning Angela got – but how do you prepare yourself for an electric shock? Her trembling body seized again, and this time a scream – sharp and shrill – managed to burst past her lips before her throat locked up as well. They repeated the cycle – blinding, screaming pain into shaking, gasping recovery – five times before the speaker was satisfied. As they filed out, despair truly overwhelmed her. Knowing there was nothing she could do – nothing anyone could do – to free her. In theory, Angela knew that Overwatch could capitulate, but she knew better. Her only escape would be rescue – or death.
---
Angela counted the days based on their visits; once a day, as the speaker promised, they punished her for the inaction of Overwatch. Sometimes the speaker would taunt her, but she bit her tongue and bowed her head; begging would get her nothing and nowhere. It had been two weeks of absolute hell. On the fifth day, when they fed her, they had tended to her wounds. They wouldn't want her to die too quickly, after all – though by now it should be obvious that her pain wasn’t going to break Overwatch, even if it was eventually going to break her. The seventh day had been mock–drowning; a rag was thrown over her face as her head was yanked back by her hair and held there roughly. Then, the water came down; rounds and rounds they went, agonizing and terrifying, before they’d left her there, soaked and shivering. They mixed it up the next few days; sometimes, she would be whipped and drowned; other times, she was electrocuted and beaten. And still, Overwatch refused to bend to the will of her captors – whoever they were. On that fourteenth day of her capture, they dragged in a table; it was placed with exceeding care before the camera. Dimly, Angela wondered what new horror they were going to inflict upon her.
It had been two weeks since Angela had been captured. They’d almost caught the bastards; they’d found the building they’d been holed up in, but by then, it had been two days too late. His analysts couldn’t pinpoint where the videos were originating, and the man in the videos was an unfamiliar enemy. The people he had demanded had been from three different groups – which narrowed it down slightly, but not enough. The Watchpoints affected two of those groups, which narrowed it down farther: so, they focused their gaze on them. It was all they had, and it was nowhere near enough. He and Jack were in the war room again; another video had been delivered. Gabriel was pacing, restless and terrified of what they were going to see this time. Gabriel could barely stand to be in the same room as Jack anymore – and when he did, he spoke in short, clipped sentences. Each day Angela was missing drove a wedge further and further between them. Every video, every wound, every scream was etched into his mind and soul – and Gabriel blamed Jack for each and every one. He was pretty sure Jack blamed himself, too. As always, they were alone for the first viewing. This was an unspoken agreement between the two; they would leave their animosity at the door for those horrific minutes that the video was playing. The emotions were too heavy, too raw, to watch the videos with anyone else, despite their growing rift. The videos were too horrible to watch with an enemy. Instead, they leaned on each other as they hadn’t since he had taken up the mantle of Blackwatch Commander. They suffered together through Angela’s torture. Jack’s grief and horror were equal to Gabriels’, his shame and guilt surpassing anything Gabriel could feel. These were laid bare, uncensored and unashamed, as they forced themselves to shoulder the weight of Angela’s pain. “You don’t have to watch this,” Jack said, as he had before every video. Gabriel shook his head; Jack was wrong. Gabriel had to watch them, had to see exactly what their failure was costing the one person he’d sworn to protect over all others. With a resigned sigh, Jack turned it on. A table came into view. The camera was angled so that it looked down slightly so that they would have a perfect view of whatever they were going to do to Angela this time. On the far side of it was Angela, still chained and bloody. “We’re going to try something different today,” the speaker announced cheerfully as he entered the room. Angela tensed but didn’t look up from the ground – not even when they began to unchain her. Gabriel wondered if she had struggled before – where they couldn’t see, when they were positioning her off–camera. Had they beaten it out of her, or had she realized the futility and, therefore, didn’t waste the energy? They half–carried, half–dragged her to the table; it was only once they forced her to bend over it, her hands chained to the far side, that he realized the nature of this particular horror. “Stop it,” he whispered hoarsely; Jack was quick to oblige. They might be at each other’s throats most days, but Gabriel knew that Jack didn’t want him to hurt – even though this whole thing, the loss of Angela, hurt. Gabriel took several deep breaths, one hand running over his head. “Do you know what they’re about to do?” He asked, low and solemn as he stared at Angela’s face. He could see it there – a new fear – but she hadn’t yet figured out what was coming. Jack let out a heavy breath. “Yes.” The answer was so quick that Gabriel wondered if Jack watched it before him – but if Jack had, Gabriel knew the blonde would have been far more desperate in his request for Gabriel not to watch. “You don’t—” “Yes, I do,” Gabriel growled, cutting him off. “You shouldn’t—” “It’s my burden, too.” This time it was Jack’s turn to cut him off, his quiet voice resigned but firm. Gabriel didn’t want Jack to see Angela like this – but, selfishly, he didn’t want to be alone to watch Angela suffer in this way – as if Angela wasn’t sitting somewhere, right now, suffering in the aftermath. He ran his hand over his head again before nodding sharply. “Start it.” It was once they started ripping and cutting away her catsuit that Angela realized what was happening – but, by then, it was far too late. Angela was bound, wrist and ankle, to the table. She thrashed and writhed then, trying to stave off what Gabriel knew was inevitable, to no avail. “Please,” she begged – and she never begged, not for anything or anyone, “please, don’t do this!” The words fell on deaf ears as they continued to restrain her. They forced her to look towards the camera with one heavy hand; her eyes were squeezed tight, but Gabriel didn’t have to see them to see her despair. “No!” She screamed when he entered her, eyes flying open to stare blankly as she struggled to escape again. The man pushed her head down harder with one hand, the other holding her hips in place. “Stop,” the word was a broken sound as the man pushed into her again with a groan. “Please.” Gabriel could barely hear the word for how soft it was. “Please.” The man ignored her pleas and continued thrusting. Slowly, her struggles became weaker and more feeble – and then she wasn’t struggling at all; Gabriel wasn’t sure if it was from pain or resignation. Instead, her hands were balled into tight fists and she trembled as the man continued to use and abuse her body. Around the same time, Angela had stopped begging; now, she was crying soundlessly in a way that tore at Gabriel’s heart. The minutes he spent watching that video were the longest and hardest minutes he’d ever endured – and he knew it had been infinitely worse for Angela. When her rapist finished, he was buried deep inside her. Angela sobbed then, a heartbreaking sound, as the man pulled away. “You know how to stop this,” the speaker said over Angela’s heavy, desperate breathing and pitiful cries. “Until tomorrow.” The video cut out, and for a moment, neither man could move. “No one else sees this,” Gabriel growled. It was bad enough that Jack had seen her in such a position; no one else has to see it. “I mean it, Jack – no one.” Numbly, Jack nodded. Before Gabriel could say – or do – something he would regret, he stormed out of the room.
---
Gabriel splashed cold water over his face with shaking hands. He was seething, absolutely enraged at what he had just watched – at what had happened to Angela. She never should have been in a position to be taken; she should have been protected, she should be safe. Jack should never have allowed her to be in the field without backup – no matter how much experience she had, she wasn’t a soldier and never would be. He wanted to tear into Jack, rip him apart for how he had failed Angela – but now wasn’t the time. Angela needed them, both of them, no matter how angry he was at Jack; until she was recovered, his rage would simmer until he could finally make it known. What parts of Gabriel that wasn’t enraged was sickened with guilt, with shame, with the terrible knowledge of what had happened to Angela. It had taken them too long; they hadn’t done enough – and she was the one paying for it. He wanted to be out there, searching and tearing the world apart until they found her – but instead, he was forced to remain here, in Zürich, trying to coordinate everyone. It felt like he was doing nothing – nothing except bear witness to the horrors that Angela was forced to carry on their behalf. When they found Angela – and they would, because they had to, because no other outcome was acceptable – he would kill every last one of them. Even if they hadn’t touched her, they had been a part of that, and he would not stand for her captors – her rapist – to continue breathing. But right now, he needed to find some semblance of balance. His rage was not helping Angela – this inactivity, here in her rooms that he had taken over during the search, was not helping her. His guilt, his shame, was not helping Angela – but that didn’t stop him from rounding her – their – bed to sit on her side of it. It had been so long that Angela’s pillow barely smelled of her anymore, but that didn’t stop Gabriel from pressing it to his face anyway. He sat there, simply breathing, as he tried to pull himself back together. He would put aside his rage, his shame, his everything, because Angela deserved nothing less. She deserved to be here, in their bed and safe – and he would make it so.
“I told you that you’d speak eventually,” the speaker whispered tauntingly as they stripped her bare. They chained her limp, naked body to the floor again and left her there, shaking and dripping. In that moment, she hated it – hated Overwatch – hated her position that had led to this room. Hated what these men were doing to her body, hated that she was being used as a – ineffective – weapon against everyone she loved. Hated everyone – these men for hurting her and her friends, even Gabriel, for not finding her and releasing her from this hell. All she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cry – but she couldn’t even do that. Instead, she slumped heavily against the chains and let her head droop. Distantly, she felt the bite in her wrists and the ache in her arms, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.
One | Two | Three | Four | Five
@febuwhump prompt: unresponsive
***
She went from a hysteria so absurd sounding that Spike was convinced she was performing some sort of dramatic scene to full out collapse so swiftly he had no chance to make a dive to try and catch her.
It was just like with Jet, though Spike had privately worried that it was his concoction that had laid out the other man so abruptly. Here was proof that something more dire was afoot... an angry purplish blotch marring a good portion of Faye's right calf, so similar in color and shape to the mark on the back of Jet's neck.
He collected her into his arms, tender despite her unresponsiveness, and merely held her for a moment. Faye was so prickly when conscious, so standoffish physically despite the sexual allure she fairly radiated. The only exceptions were when she chose to initiate contact, brief flares of her hands on his shoulders or the whisper of their fingers sliding against each other when trading off cigarettes.
Her breathing was shallow but steady, the same again as Jet. But, Jet had briefly regained consciousness... Faye was exhibiting no sign of waking. It made him nervous. Faye's body had put up even less of a fight against the internal assault her immune system must be undergoing. Clearly whatever had... attacked? infected?... whatever had happened to Jet had claimed another unsuspecting victim.
Who would be next?
A flash of fear shot through him as he remembered Ed donning the heat seeking googles and taking off impulsively not long ago. She was so thin, so young... what would happen if she suffered the same fate as Jet and Faye?
Carefully hoisting Faye aloft in his arms, Spike considered bringing her to her bedroom but immediately dismissed that idea. What if she came to and needed help? What if she stopped breathing and no one was around to notice? His heart tightened at the thought of something happening that would forever quiet Faye's acerbic wit and smartass mouth.
Well, considering how deeply unconscious she seemed to be...
"Faye... I'll take my chances dicing with you... we can play a private game and I'll even let you win all my clothes if you think you can beat me without that anklet." He kept a sharp eye on her face as he spoke but not even the suggestion of shaming him or the prospect of a true challenge roused her. Faye was frighteningly unresponsive.
In that case, she wouldn't be entirely uncomfortable if he made her a bed on top of the coffee table. The chair was far too small and the couch was occupied already by Jet's comatose form.
It was a bit difficult, though ultimately manageable, to situate a blanket on top of the metal surface while still cradling Faye's dead weight - that absent thought made him shudder and he shook his head fiercely to dismiss it. She was breathing, she would be fine. Jet too... he would recover from whatever this was as well.
Gently he lifted Faye's head to put a folded up towel beneath as a sort of pillow. And then he turned his back on his ailing shipmates.
There was another crewmate at risk still. Well, two counting the dog which Spike did. There was no time to stand over these two worrying about what the future would hold. Besides, finding Ed would be the first step in figuring out a type of cure. The kid was brilliant, surely she could sort out how to help the others.
Capturing or eliminating the enemy was important as well - what if they needed to dissect the damn thing to discover how to thwart the potential poison or whatever was running amuck in their systems?
So the only answer was to get his shit together and go searching for the errant pair and the... whatever the fuck... was responsible for knocking out two of the toughest people he knew.