You In There - Tumblr Posts

🎃Whumptober Day 4: "You in There" (Kris x Reader)🎃

You fiddle with your Dark Word outfit. You were walking with Kris in the Cyber World. You two were alone due to a fork in the path and Susie dragging Ralsei with her. At this moment, it was silent.

You notice that Kris have been weird since yesterday. They've always been weird, but they have been more weird lately. They have been a little robotic at times. You are not sure if they were in a mood or something else is going on.

"Hey uh...Kris?" You turn towards Kris, "Sorry if I am intruding, but are you doing okay?"

Kris just simply looks at you, "Yes." They then look away. You notice that there is something off in their tone. You don't want to push Kris to telling you on what is going on.

"Alright then..." You spoke up again after a few seconds, "You can talk to me if you want to, you know? Even if I can't help on whether is bothering, I'll listen." You pat Kris's shoulder. You can see a small smile on their face.

You hope they are okay.

cattle prod / shock / you in there? (I see the danger, it’s written there in your eyes.)

He wondered at first if it was because of something he’d said. Something he’d done. There had to be a reason for the punishment. It was a punishment, right? It definitely wasn’t anything he’d signed up for. There had been no little box on the recruitment application to indicate permission granted for torture.

Perhaps they were upset about his physical appearance. He’d argued that there was science - well documented and thoroughly researched - that held that long hair acted as a sixth sense. Surprisingly, they had permitted him to keep his long locks… but this could still be a form of retribution for that allowance.

Could they have caught him sneaking from the other barracks? It’s not as if it was forbidden. Dalliances were often encouraged in the ranks, in fact, as long as such behavior didn’t interfere with showing up for your shift. He had never been late to the field. Never brawled with fellow soldiers. Never led his squadron into lethal situations.

Sure, he’d been physically violent with a fair number of the enemy - whoever they were. But he’d never instigated the altercations.

There was nothing that sprang to mind as just cause for being tormented for days on end.

Cattle prod marks dotted his arms, his legs, his stomach and chest and back. Whip lashes had left stinging welts and broken the skin in several spots. He’d been wrestled into a device that allowed them to shock him repeatedly which wouldn’t have been so bad if it had been a level of power that gradually increased over time, but they never went in any order he could detect. There was no way to prepare for the voltage of the jolt. Sometimes he’d clench his teeth and close his eyes and it would be as soft as being too near the hum of electricity. Other times it would make stars explode behind his eyelids and could leave him with a bitten tongue and gouges in his palms from the pressure of his own nails digging in.

He was never left to sleep for long. Usually minutes at a time. The lights were always on in his cell. He had no inkling of how long he’d been there for by now. The guards were masked, the doctors were masked, the voices were all modulated by devices around their throats. Though occasionally he suspected some of their identities.

“You in there?” A mocking voice, a rap of knuckles on his forehead. Laughter as he fought against the restraints keeping him locked in place. The height and weight seemed right. The ridicule was certainly what he’d expect. If this particular individual wasn’t one of the first men he’d fought with way back during training on Mars, years and years ago… well, then it was someone just like that asshole. Someone just as cruel and annoying.

One time he’d found his throat less parched than usual. The doctor in with him was soft-spoken and timid in their movements. He detected a gentleness in their manner, perhaps a caring soul that could be coerced into releasing him. It was the only time he’d bothered to beg. Beg for his freedom. Beg for answers.

But the doctor had shook their head solemnly. “I see the danger; it’s written in your eyes.” And on that oddly poetic note, they had taken their leave and never returned.

There was danger in his eyes. There was danger to every inch of him. He was a formidable opponent. He had been trained in violent forms of self-defense, had been broken and healed over and over until he could ignore any agony being inflicted upon his person. He could jab his fingers into a man’s chest and end their life. He was a killing machine.

Briefly, he’d thought he could be more. Thought he had more to give than brute force and incredible endurance.

He’d met a woman. Beautiful, strong, clever. A fighter just like him. She had ignited a passion within him that was impossible to ignore. They’d fallen into bed and fallen into love and his heart had cracked open with all the dreams of a future that could include her.

And then people started to disappear. Not unusual in the military. He’d served enough years to know that and it had not worried him. Until the day she wasn’t there.

Had he gone on a rampage at that point?

It seemed unlikely. But for some reason he couldn’t actually remember.

The past few days, weeks, months even? …everything seemed blurry. Shrouded in doubt. How long had he been here? How long had they been together on this dusty moon so far from their home world? How long had he been bound in this room and made to suffer attacks he was not allowed to defend against?

Time became meaningless. Doctors and guards paraded around him ceaselessly. He was given injections. Bright lights were shone into his eyes. He was beaten, tied, shocked, drowned. He was revived. For a long while he was plagued by bouts of dizziness and nausea so intense he blacked out while heaving. Chills made his limbs tremble. His bones ached, his muscles felt on fire. Images flickering at the edge of his perception - odd things floating in the air, butterflies? It was nonsense. It was not real. Nothing was real anymore.

On and on and on.

Questions.

What was his name? Who was his superior? What year was it? Where was he? How did he feel?

There came a day when he found he had no answers. There was only the shell he inhabited. What contents was a shell supposed to hold? What memories was he supposed to have? This was all a nightmare that had gone on since time began and would continue until time met its end.

Pain and drugs swirled in his system. His vision grew worse and then improved. His teeth throbbed in his mouth and he wanted to rip them out. He knew he was going to die there. The why was immaterial. The how equally so. The when was the only true question he had, the only bit of control he maintained.

He was going to die. But he would damn sure take as many of them along as possible. And if somehow he managed to escape with his life? Well… the world itself would choke and burn. He’d see to it.