@febuwhump Prompt: Rope Burns

@febuwhump prompt: rope burns

***

Her wrists stung painfully from where the rope had chafed her skin. It had been a pointless endeavor in the first place, trying to slowly and methodically adjust her wrists to get the synthetic fibers to loosen enough to tug herself free.

She had known from the first sight of the colorful coil that it was a material that would prove impervious to abrasion, which meant she wouldn't be able to use friction to deteriorate the fibers. That, coupled with the terrified obedience inspired by the silver-haired syndicate man and his suit-wearing lackeys, had led her to instead offer her hands willingly to be bound.

At no point had she been left on her own to try and use the scant centimeters of advantage she'd managed to secure by positioning her arms and wrists for the bondage they'd inflicted upon her.

And then they'd cut the ropes and tied her up anew once they reached their destination: a crumbling cathedral shrouded in darkness of several types. Shadows from the setting sun that stretched into every crevice, shadows which faded into deeper darkness as clouds covered the sky and began a merciless downpour. Then, a more subtle darkness, the sins of man that radiated from each of these well-dressed thugs.

Strung up with her arms behind her back - behind, indeed, a pillar against which her back rested - she had been helpless to attempt to free herself. More than that, fear kept her firmly in place.

At first, when she had realized they not only knew her ruse of familiarity with Mao Yenrai but that they were intent on using her for their own nefarious purpose, she had been relieved that they wouldn't be slitting her throat and tossing aside her corpse. She was also thankful that violating her - beyond merely trussing her up - was not on their agenda.

But it was difficult to pretend that she wasn't terrified. She had to draw upon every ounce of will power to keep her voice light, to keep her eyes clear of tears, to keep from trembling.

Seeing the boys on the screen when she was forced to call and beg for their help - something she frankly refused to do, choosing instead to be as nonchalant as possible - was such a relief that she sagged against her bonds. The rope burns on her skin made her straighten back up a heartbeat later, the reminder of the danger she was in even if Spike decided to show like he'd mentioned he might.

Hope threatened to rise in her heart and she angrily dashed it aside. He had claimed it wasn't for her and so she knew she could not truly rely on him for a rescue attempt. Whatever odd games were being played here - she wanted no part in them and regretted getting involved. She was a pawn here, not even a player, and that rankled as much as the fact that she was tied to a rough pillar that was most certainly leaving gouges against the bare skin of her back.

Between her wrists and her spine and her pride, she wasn't sure what hurt the most. It was better to focus on the pain than the horror of her situation though. The sharp memory of Mao's mutilated corpse sitting beside her in the opera box. The callous manhandling of her person there and here. The utter indifference with which Vicious gazed at her.

Well. At first his look had been considering. Sizing her up, judging her worth, trying to determine her merit. And then... following Spike's casual dismissal of interest in her... she was surprised that he hadn't killed her immediately. Her use to him was obviously null and void at that point, unless he intended to use her as a distraction if and when Spike showed up.

It didn't matter. She had to keep herself on task.

The grunt assigned to keep her in line was rearranging the ropes holding her arms together behind her back. She was being released from standing before the pillar - a minor improvement as now she could feel cool air blowing along the scrapes of her back - and the man was positioning her at his side in one of the darkest corners of the cathedral.

"Move when I move you. Say nothing. Disobey and die." He muttered to her when she dared to look in his direction.

Fresh fear spilled down her spine and she forced herself to stand straight and tried to give off an air of being entirely unaffected by everything that had happened and was going on around her. She summoned all the grace she could muster, determined to act as if her presence was by choice. These bonds might as well be ribbons, the gun pressed to her temple could be the weight of a crown sitting jauntily upon her head.

She was not a frightened woman, shivering internally at the prospect of her imminent demise. She was not a terrified prop whose abrasions burned with every brush of the rope against her soft flesh. She was not going to die here like a panicked animal.

She was going to control her breathing and continue to try and shift out of her bonds. She was going to stomp this man's foot with her stiletto heel while ducking and twisting to avoid the bullet he would automatically fire. She was going to use these rotten pews as a cover to manage an escape from this situation all on her own.

And then, over the sound of the rainfall outside the decrepit building, she could hear the repetition of steps that indicated someone was approaching at a steady pace...

@febuwhump prompt: killing in self defense

TW: attempted non-consensual sexual activity

***

It had been easier than she'd expected.

Well... sort of.

Scrambling over refuse strewn across a darkened alley, kicking forcefully at the bigger stronger brutal stranger trying to subdue her by sheer domination, clawing for any sort of object that could serve as a weapon... that was difficult.

Terror had locked her throat up so she couldn't scream for help. She was practically hyperventilating which wasn't doing her focus any favors. Her blood was pumping in her ears so loudly she couldn't hear the swearing of the man she kept smashing with her heels.

Her knees were scraped. Various gross-smelly wet things had smeared against her exposed skin and her formerly clean clothing alike. There were sure to be bruises on her knuckles from how much power she'd been putting into her punches before the stranger had managed to trap her in this dead-end alleyway.

She could taste blood in her mouth from the backhand he'd given her. That casual slap had sent her sprawling but had given her a brief bit of space from her attacker. It had offered her a false escape, letting her lash out with her powerful legs from a position on the ground where he'd probably intended her to lay insensate and unable to move his bulk aside once he'd descended upon her.

Fortunately she had a thick skull or something because she hadn't been knocked completely silly and she'd been able to put her all into her attempts to defeat him or at least distract him with pain to the point where she could slip by and run out of the alley.

One of his beefy hands managed to secure her left ankle in a vice-like grip and he yanked her backwards so hard that she belly-flopped onto the concrete and smacked her chin with enough force to see stars. He took advantage of her disarray to wrestle her onto her back and pressed his full body weight down against her, covering her hips and her belly and her chest.

His face was above hers - too high for her to attempt to headbutt him - and his leer was something out of a nightmare. There was too much delight in his sky blue eyes... too much lust... he was getting off on the fight she was putting up as much as anything else. Nausea roiled in her stomach and she hoped she might be violently ill with enough propulsion to coat his face in bile and the scraps she'd managed to swindle earlier from the open market.

Her heels drummed on the pavement uselessly and her arms, free at her sides while he concentrated on holding down her body, beat weakly at his shoulders and ribs. He was grinning, a rictus smile dripping with confidence in the inevitable outcome of their altercation. And she kept landing feeble punches that seemed only powerful enough to tickle him.

It was infuriating.

And then her right hand swept over something cold and hard.

There was no time for thought. Familiarity shot through her arm like she'd struck something against her funny bone. Her left hand continued to strike him while her right hand traced muscle-memory movements along the shaft of the lethal device she'd discovered.

And then the safety was off and the gun was pulled free of the holster and the bullet - point blank through his side just beneath his ribcage on that side - was tearing into his innards on a mission of vengenance.

And then he was slumping over her, still too-fucking heavy for her to easily pull free, and hot blood was pouring out of the entry wound and coating her in stickiness that would never wash out of these clothes.

Gradually her heartbeat began to slow down to normal. Her breathing, still labored due to his bulk spread across the majority of her body, became calm. Disgust and frustration at the situation warred within her even as she realized she was safe.

Panic set in again. The unexpected panic of having survived intact. The desperate panic that would help her slip out from beneath this corpse.

Seconds or minutes or hours later, she found herself on her hands and knees with the gun still gripped tightly. The nausea returned and she made sure to vomit all over the asshole. It was a move she only mildly regretted later, once she had truly regained control of herself, and decided to pick through his pockets for anything else of value.

It was the first time she had had to take someone else's life.

She wasn't entirely sure what the rules on murder were in this dystopian future world but surely killing in self defense was still something that wouldn't land her in prison.

Best not to find out though.

She took the rings off his limp fingers, the watch with the broken face, the wallet and the keys and the comm. She took everything he had and, almost as an afterthought, yanked his pants down to his ankles before picking up a piece of wood from a busted up entertainment center near the dumpster in the furthest corner of the alley. Whacking his calves and thighs and ass with the board over and over and over was a form of stress release. With any luck it would also give the impression that he'd been the victim in this instance. If police thought he'd been accosted by one or more people, beaten savagely and then robbed blind, well... that meant they wouldn't be looking for some nearly-raped woman.

Satisfied at last with her work and worried about lingering too long at the scene of the crime, Faye took his jacket to cover the blood coated shirt she wore and fled into the night.

@febuwhump prompt: "bite down on this"

***

"This fucking hurts!"

Spike scrambled through the tool kit in the workshop and finally seized upon a tool that had a rubber sheath on it. In his haste to get back to Faye he nearly tripped over his own two feet before reaching her side.

"Here! Bite down on this!" He encouraged, offering her the tool.

Faye's mouth opened in disbelief and she had to quickly smack the proffered item from his hand before he could stick it between her upper and lower teeth himself. Despite herself and the excruciating agony tearing through her, Faye began to laugh until tears were spilling down her cheeks.

"What the fuck are you thinking, you goof?" She demanded through giggles once she was able to speak again. "You're not setting a fucking bone here, Spike!" She snorted, her chin dropping to her chest for a moment.

Spike sat back on his heels, expression crestfallen.

"I don't know what you want from me, Faye. I don't know what you need from me. I'm way over my head here..." He took in a deep breath and tried to let it out slowly though his heart was still racing wildly. "I just... you... what do I do?" His voice was plaintive and warbled slightly as if he was fighting to keep from breaking down.

Eyeing the distraught cowboy, seeing fear prominently displayed on his features for one of the first times in her life, Faye took pity on him.

"Just... hold me, you dolt. I'll take care of the rest for now. Don't worry, Jet will get back here with Doc in no time." She winced as another contraction took her breath away. Spike looked physically pained by her discomfort and she tried to suck it up and play it off as he tentatively settled in behind her so she could lean back against him.

"This is ridiculous, Faye. You should be in a hospital." Spike muttered quietly.

"I don't trust hospitals." She replied when she could focus on something other than the pressure. "I trust you. I trust Jet. And given how many times he's put you back together again, I trust Doc too."

She felt Spike shudder behind her as he exhaled. "I just... what if... I mean... if something goes wrong..."

"Shh, shh, shh..." Faye reached down to grab his hands in her own, squeezing his fingers between hers partially for his comfort and partially to deflect the discomfort she was feeling somewhere else. "Don't go borrowing trouble. Fuck the future. There's only now. There's only this. The present is where we are and what we have control over. I've got this. Do you believe in me?"

He sighed shakily, burying his face in her hair so he could lean his face down to press a kiss against the side of her neck.

"You're one of the only things in this world I have any faith in." He replied eventually.

"Damn straight." She breathed. Another contraction was beginning to crash over her. It was awful but it was endurable. And, since she'd familiarized herself with all the available text and videos on childbirth, she knew that they still had some time before their baby entered the world. She wasn't sure if her water had broken or not, but she wasn't yet feeling the urge to bear down.

"You sure you're okay? I can't do anything else?" Spike murmured, flexing his fingers against hers as her hands relaxed as the contraction faded away.

"You're doing everything I need right now. You are everything I need right now." She replied in a soft voice.

Their world was about to change for better or for worse... hopefully for better even if it took a lot of work to keep it on a good course. She understood his fears, his concerns, his helplessness. She could welcome those emotions, address them, and ideally soothe him a bit. Perhaps it was the mother already in her that was so patiently dealing with his anxiety in a time when she herself ought to be comforted, but she felt remarkably calm. She felt nearly invincible, truth be told.

Spike so rarely fell apart. He did not often display any sort of true uncertainty or worry. It made him all the more human to her, his panic, and it made her love him even more deeply. He would likely put on a brave front when the others arrived, but for now he was clinging to her like she was the only secure thing in a world of upheaval.

And realistically, she was.

The woman who had cracked open his heart after Julia left it weakened and exposed... Faye had reset it like a broken bone and nurtured it until it was no longer paining him. She had become his guiding light, his north star, the safe port where he could moor his soul and rest easy enjoying the days at her side.

But neither of them were truly capable of relaxing into a life of easy sailing. They needed challenges to thrive... and what better challenge than raising a child?

animals are the best <3

Good boys ^___^

@febuwhump prompt: obedience

***

Shame coursed through his veins, but damaged pride made him cry out in self defense.

"We are upholding the law of the Dragon! We are no betrayers, sensei. We are loyal men!"

"Your loyalty is not in question, Spike. It is your obedience we demand. These territorial disputes with the White Tigers and the Blue Snakes and the Golden Eagles! These - these... Pissing contests you and Vicious persist in participating in!" Mao's anger was sharp but even more cutting was the disappointment shining in his eyes.

Vicious, standing rigidly at Spike's side, kept his eyes fastened to a spot just over Mao's head. For his part, Spike could not look away from his mentor's stern face.

Embarrassment made his skin hot. To be held in such disregard... To be admonished as if they were children... Worse still, to have let down the man who had taken them in and given them a place in the Syndicate...

Mao sighed heavily. "You boys are far too brash, too bold, too disruptive. There was a reason you were removed from the Dragon's Teeth. You cannot be trusted to moderate your behavior or to adhere to the orders you are given."

"Sir, you don't understand - they started it this time! We caught them crossing into our turf by the harbor. They were setting up shop in one of the warehouses down there! We had to push back before they got the idea that this kind of thing is acceptable!" Spike protested.

Mao stared at him. "Why were either of you down there in the first place? You had no assignment in that area. There are no bars to cool your heels down on that wharf. Your... impetuous behavior was uncalled for and has set back the treaty talks that had begun between us and the Eagles. Worse, your attack on their men resulted in the death of one of their Capo's sons. They are demanding blood for blood."

Spike pursed his lips and shifted his glare to the floor. Vicious continued to stand silent beside him. Of course, Vicious never had much to say in their defense. He felt their actions spoke loudly enough and insisted that their words would only fall on deaf ears. Spike was beginning to realize the truth of that assumption.

"You cannot...seize opportunity... the way that you have. Neither of you are at a level to be trusted with making decisions for the Van. The Elders demand obedience even if you choose to not offer them respect. I will say yet again that I am ashamed at your wild behavior. It reflects poorly on more than just the two of you. It lowers me in their eyes as well. This type of thing cannot continue. Dragons do not truly exist so let us compare you to canines instead. You are curs, not men. You are to be on a leash of our control and to obey our commands. You bite who we say to bite, no others. If a dog cannot be trusted to obey, the dog is to be put down. Do not delude yourselves into thinking that the Van requires your skill set so much that this will save you from a death sentence."

Spike could hear Vicious grinding his teeth. He felt like doing the same.

There were so many arbitrary rules to follow in the Syndicate... So many hoops to jump through to keep the Elders happy... So many commands that made Spike's skin crawl. He craved the violence of taking down their enemies, fighting hand-to-hand or storming in with guns blazing. To be engulfed in the heat of battle with no time for second guessing your moves and to have only yourself, your weapons, and your bloodthirsty teammates standing between you and a painful death. He reveled in the thrill of beating someone in a fair fight and he took pride in the destruction he could cause with explosives.

He and Vicious were men of action. They were fierce and formidable and fought like devils. They deserved to be the Dragon's Claws, striking out and rending flesh! They were not made to act as the Dragon's Teeth, standing around like invisible shadows behind the puppet masters, quietly waiting for a chance to showcase their talents at keeping their lords alive. That had been belittling, to serve in such a boring capacity.

But now... To be told they weren't allowed to defend their own territory? To be made to sit idly by as rival syndicates encroached upon the streets that they controlled? It was galling. It was ludicrous. It was a mark of feebleminded frightened men.

They were Red Dragons. They had to prove their power, draw first blood, and demand respect.

Acting as delivery boys - as had been their missions lately - was embarrassing and annoying. It was pathetic work, something fit for children, not for some of the toughest men the Elders had at their beck and call.

"Sir," Spike tried again, speaking through gritted teeth. "Respectfully, we would like to be reassigned. We are being wasted as errand boys. It is degrading."

Mao's hard eyed stare made him gulp. Vicious shifted uncomfortably next to him when Mao glanced in his direction.

"You think you are important enough to make demands? You think you are worthy enough to have more responsibility? You arrogant children..."

Spike seethed at the censure from their mentor. It had hurt when he felt like they had let Mao down, especially since they had anticipated being rewarded for quelling that invasive maneuver the Eagles had tried to pull. He hadn't exactly expected rewards but this was absurd.

Outrage roiled in his belly, rising up his esophagus like heartburn. He was hard-pressed not to make matters worse for himself by adding anything else to the one-sided conversation.

Mao, clearly still vexed, gave a sigh and shrugged. "Well, fortunately for the pair of you, the Van has indeed decided that you are to be pulled from your current jobs. They were not impressed by your success rate anymore than they were pleased by your assault against the Eagles. In fact, it was decided that the pair of you shall be our offering to appease their bloodlust."

Vicious opened his mouth but said nothing. Spike physically recoiled.

"Don't look so offended, boys. It's hardly what you're thinking. In fact, it's exactly what you desire. We are sending you over there as a sort of Trojan horse if you will. They think you are a sacrifice. They do not realize that allowing you into their headquarters will mean offering their own necks to be cut. We intend for you to turn the Eagles' Nest into a slaughterhouse."

At that, Spike and Vicious glanced at one another. Smiles began to creep across their faces, hardly daring to believe their luck.

"You are to head to their neighborhood this very afternoon. Act contrite, express our condolences. They will likely bring you to the Capos themselves so you can go through with this sham of a trial they are insistent upon. This will place you near enough to the heart that you can stab it with ease. Be thorough." Mao advised. "Now, I have business to attend to. See yourselves out, if you please."

@febuwhump prompt: "why won't it stop?"

***

"I don't understand." Spike muttered, cradling his left arm with his right as he sat on the cold concrete bench of the bus stop.

Annie glanced over at him. "What is your problem?" She asked in a snotty voice. Mao fawned over the kid so much that it was hard to be around Spike without getting pissed off. It wasn't even jealousy exactly it was more... well, Spike himself was a brat. He mouthed off constantly, he drank and smoked and stole - and he was only 10!

Frowning, Spike shrugged and clutched his arm a little tighter as if self-conscious. The movement made him hiss in pain and his face screwed up like he was fighting back tears.

Annie was surprised. She'd never seen a trace of uncertainty or sadness in him before. With a long-suffering sigh she turned from her position watching down the road for their bus and grabbed his arm to yank the sleeve up before he could react by fighting her off.

He yelped as the dirty fabric of his stained sweatshirt swept over his blistered skin and Annie couldn't keep from wincing at the sight.

"It's a pretty bad burn," she acknowledged after inspecting it. "We'll have to put some ointment on it and cover it up so it can heal without getting infected. Ugh, you're so much work, kid."

Glaring at her, Spike wrenched his arm back and stared down at the disfigured flesh. "I don't understand." He repeated. She watched him grit his teeth before taking a deep breath and finally looking at her with as innocent and respectful of an expression as he could possibly make. "The steam only hit me for a minute. It still burns. Why won't it stop burning?"

It was Annie's turn to shrug. "That's just how burns work." Then she frowned at him. "Have you seriously never gotten burnt before?"

Spike rolled his eyes and tilted his neck back and forth to crack it. Eventually he huffed another sigh before replying to her, though his eyes were trained on the ground by their feet.

"Never been around hot food or nothing." He remarked quietly.

Well. He was an orphan, after all. He'd spent most of his years on the streets. When Mao had originally stumbled across him, it had been when Spike was reeling from a fever and did such a piss-poor job of making off with Mao's wallet that the older man had been able to follow him with ease to the alley that Spike called home. It was still the place they could typically find him whenever he ran off from the youth center where Mao had stuck him.

Annie's shoulders slumped. Somehow Spike's simple admission and his childlike confusion over such a basic concept had managed to deflate all of her typical irritation over being saddled with babysitting the kid. Annie's own childhood had been marked with misery and hardship of course - her mother had been a flake who just disappeared one day. That had left Annie with a junkie dad who occasionally was able to provide useful information to the syndicate. It was her uncle, Mao, who had eventually agreed to take Annie under his wing and bring her into the outer realm of his world.

She had discovered an appreciation within herself for weapons and threw herself wholeheartedly into learning everything she could about guns and bullets and grenades and knockout gasses and brass knuckles. Self-defense was such an important skill to hone, but perhaps equally useful was merely having access to things that could hurt or kill someone else. She spent hours of her days on the shooting range or hustling antique guns from flea markets and pawn shops and estate sales. It was her passion and had become quite an addiction, truth be told.

In fact, once she was able to drop Spike off at the youth center to have his arm tended to, she was planning on going to a sale at a museum that was closing down over on the east end of town. She'd heard a rumor that they had cannons - actual cannons! - that would be up for auction. Now that would be something to own!

But first she had to do something about this little snot-nosed boy who was still putting on a brave face despite the tremors that coursed through his upper body now and again. He kept kicking his heels against the bench which at least made any shakiness in those limbs not evident to any onlookers. At least he was smart enough to know he shouldn't show any weakness if he could avoid it.

Annie glanced down the road and finally saw the familiar shape of the bus wearily working its way towards them. She held out her hand to Spike.

"C'mon, kid. I'll weasel some burn cream from the nurse at the YC for ya. It'll help a little with the pain. Best thing aside from that is to distract yourself. Why don't you find a good book in the library there and hole yourself up for a few hours reading?"

Spike warily put his good hand into hers and let her pull him to his feet. Considering how often they butted heads, it was no surprise he was hesitant to fully trust her.

"Yeah, maybe." He was still sort of curled in on himself even now that he was standing up. It gave him a vulnerability that made Annie nervous. She hated to be seen as weak and wasn't comfortable being in the presence of someone who might cast her in that light by their own timidity.

"What's the matter? Don't tell me you can't read either!" She cried.

Spike straightened up, shoulders going back and chest puffing up with a child's arrogance. "Shut up! I can read plenty!"

Annie eyed him suspiciously. Who would have been around to teach him letters? The shiftiness of his eyes seemed very telling to her.

She thought longingly of the cannons and how fun it would be to add them to her collection. Then again, where would she even store the damn things?

The bus groaned to a halt in front of them and Annie yanked Spike along after her as she climbed aboard.

"If you keep your trap shut about this, I'll help you figure it out." She told him in a fierce whisper. "I don't want nobody knowing I did you a kindness, you hear? I'm supposed to be working on my tough reputation and Mao sticking me looking after you all the time doesn't help that any." She sighed as she shoved him into one of the seats and claimed the one next to him. "Anyway, he'll be over the moon if I can get you on the right track. So. First the burn, then the books."

Spike pinched his lips together and gave a curt nod before directing his attention out the window. Good. That meant Annie could daze out for the duration of their bus ride. There'd always be another chance to own something as cool as a cannon... and in the meantime, well, it was smart to do things that put others in her debt. That was something she'd learned from Uncle Mao real quick. Favors made the world run smooth.