YES I KNOW ITS LATE - Tumblr Posts

Whumptober: Digging Your Grave

This was just his luck.

He didn’t regret doing what he did, but it had certainly ended badly.

They had gotten surrounded on a patrol. Normally, that wouldn’t have been something they were worried about, if fighting the ambush hadn’t been like fighting a hydra. If they took down one bot, two more would come in its place. They had ended up getting severely overwhelmed in the fight, unable to hold their own in the fight, much less watch each other’s shells.

It came down between letting his brothers stay and tear themselves apart, trying to stick together so that nobody would be lost, or letting himself fall victim to the ambush by faking finding an out and getting them to leave.

Obviously, the choice had been easy. He had yelled to them that there was an out to their left. The sign would collapse with enough effort and separate them, keeping the enemies in and them out.

Leonardo lied. He told them what the plan was and that he'd be right behind them, that he'd duck in right before the sign fell and join them behind the wreckage. They had believed him, too. Certainly with some hesitance, but he got them to leave.

And they hadn't expected a thing.

Or, well, maybe they had, but he didn't hear anything about it until they were safely inside. They were safe, and all he had to do was fight for his life.

But, he sent his backup away and was now surrounded by the remaining enemy forces, people who wanted to kill him. They tried their best, too. No matter how hard he fought, there were always more, always one rising up when another fell. He was nearly killed there.

He didn’t die, though, as much as he would have loved to have been killed in that fight. Instead, he woke up, wrapped up in thorny ropes and dangling by his ankles over a spike trap. Death would have been better. Cuts, big and small, stung as sharp edges from the rope cut deeper into his skin, but he couldn't really do anything about it. Struggling would just waste energy and he would injure himself. Even if he did manage to free himself from the bindings, he would most likely fall to his doom on the pointed metal below him.

However, if he stayed where he was, that would be giving up. He would die, slowly and… Well, maybe less than painfully.

Leonardo looked around, examining his surroundings. The building was horribly bland, with not much view besides a few cracks and holes in the ceiling to look outside. It was just concrete walls and, where the floor hadn’t been torn up for the trap beneath him, cement. He was hung in the middle of the room, too, so that he couldn’t really swing anywhere near one of the walls and try something from there.

They really hadn’t wanted him leaving, huh?

%%%

A couple hours passed. Maybe more, maybe less. He didn’t know. All he could see was the light of the sun every now and again, and that wasn’t even reliable. Leonardo had spent quite a bit of time struggling, planning, anything that would help get him out of the situation.

The strain on his ankles from being held up was doing him no good either. If- When- He got out, that would be something he’d have to deal with. Being held up by his ankles had to be straining his body and tearing through muscles.

(“If” was a bad word. “If” was pessimistic and it meant that you were giving up. He was not giving up, not so soon.)

Leonardo shivered as a draft blew in through the cracks in the walls. He was vaguely aware that it had gotten darker in the already dim building, the sky turning a darker and darker blue. Almost a full day had passed since he woke up as a captive. Another breeze came in, and with it, another round of freezing wind. It occurred to him, ever so suddenly, that that might be a bad thing. Instinct would kick in eventually, and then-

That might be a bad thing.

Heart jumping into his throat, he thrashed around, stings in multiple places turning into burns as blood trickled down his body in a steady stream. Pain would help him stay awake. He needed to stay awake. Maybe it would be a long and painful night, but he had gone longer without sleep, and he didn’t dare risk closing his eyes in his position for anything longer than a blink.

So… Yeah. Apparently it was really cold where he was, too. That was great. Absolutely perfect. Sleep deprived, hung up at God knows where, without any form of escape.

Throughout the night, he thrashed and kicked, forcing the spikes on the ropes deeper into his skin so that the pain might keep him awake. It never lasted for long, of course, not unless the cuts were in a large quantity, but at least it helped a little. By the time the light filtering through the cracks had turned light blue, Leonardo was bleeding sluggishly from various places, breathing just a little harder from the workout he got trying to stay awake. He hadn’t needed the cuts, apparently. When he moved enough, pain shot through both his ankles, and he could almost safely assume that something in both of them was either strained or torn.

It was at that moment that he realized that this was going to be a very slow death if he stayed.

He couldn’t really afford to die, so.

Leonardo kept looking.

%%%

Well, it was settled. There really was no way out of the trap he put himself in. In hindsight, maybe he suicide mission wasn’t the greatest plan he’d had in a long time. Sure, he was a fool half the time, bleeding himself dry for others, but it wasn’t like he had another choice, right? He never had a choice. Sometimes it ended up like this, but if they had stayed where they were, all of them would have died or worse. Who would he be if he let that happen? Plans like this were his specialty. He always got back in the end, anyway.

The second day went about the same as the first. Bleeding, hurting, vain attempts at finding an escape route. Tired. When night came, the process of keeping himself awake went on, endless pain if it meant staying awake and, more importantly, alive.

%%%

The third day was the same as the others. Only, he was fading faster. Obviously, he knew he was going to die eventually, and it was probably going to be a young, untimely death, caused by being born into war. He just hadn’t thought that it would be like this. Maybe in battle, stabbed or shot or completely torn out of existence, even accidentally. Not strung up in a trap, or captured by an enemy. Terribly slow, dragging on and on. Agonizing, but only emotionally.

By the time he realized what was going on, Leonardo had completely ceased struggling unless he was trying to keep his eyes open. In its place came more silent plans that wouldn’t work, meaningless efforts to keep going and get out. He sucked in a shaky breath and swallowed until it stopped hurting. Conservation of his energy meant nothing at the moment.

After all, he wasn’t going to make it.