Day 11: Bare: A Pop Opera (Outing/Religious Trauma)

Day 11: Bare: A Pop Opera (Outing/Religious Trauma)

Fandom: The Bad Batch

Warnings: Homophobic, sexual assault/rape, attempted drowning, and violence

Summary: While in a mission, the batch heads to a very religious planet. After being outed by a reg, the church priest and priestess decided they have to 'save him.'

    Hiding his sexuality was something Hunter never bothered to do. When it got around on Kamino that he was bisexual, it didn't bother him. Sure, some regs threw slurs at him, but it never really hurt.

    But now, all Hunter needed was to be revealed as gay. The planet the batch had been assigned to, was extremely religious. Unfortunately, the citizens weren't accepting of people who were different from them.

    When Tech had come up to Hunter to warn him, he knew to be careful. Tech never said anything about the culture of the civils unless he figured it was important. Sometimes he wouldn't inform them of any cultural disagreements even if it was important to know.

    Church members went to greet the battalion Clone Force 99 was traveling with, as well as to greet them. Every civilian in sight was fitted in white. Women were in white, floor length dresses and men were in various different types of clothing, though it was all white. The only person who wasn't in white was the priest.

    The priest talked to the general then invited him, his Padawan, and some soldiers to come to their church to talk about the planet joining the Republic.

    They walked to the church. There was a strange lack of people one the streets. The church stood over 250 feet. Tech would later tell them that it stood 281 ft. The building was made of a beautiful white stone that had golden accents to it. The steeple mostly composed of gold. It looked sharp enough to impaile a man with ease. The stairs were the same stone. They had been worn down by years of foot traffic. The doors were large and made of Dark Pine wood. It was hard not to stare at the marveling building.

    Stepping into the church, they learned the inside of the stone building was just as breath taking. There were rows and rows of pews; all matching the Dark Pine of the door. The aisle had a blood red carpet laid out on it. The carpet went all the way to the Priest's altar.  Behind the alter was a large, circler staind glass window. It as simple and uniform, much like the whole church.

    The room was beautiful but there was one thing that threw most everyone off. Behind the alter, there was a large water fountain. The fountain was made of marble and bor the church's creast on the top of it. The bottom of the fountain had two foot tall walls to keep the water in.

    Meeting one of the leaders of the church was not something the batch, nor the battalion with them excepted. Hunter realized just how uncomfortable both the Jedi commander and Padawan looked as the priest started to talk about not agreeing with the Jedi's religion but how they needed help so, despite their differences, they could make an exception. The man said that he hoped God would forgive them and the two Jedi just looked at each other, wondering how they ended up here.

    When a reg started to walk up to Hunter, he didn't think much of it. Maybe they needed something. It wasn't until he started to talk that the man realized he was up to no good.

    "By their logic, I'm surprised you didn't start buring as soon a walked in this church."

    The priest and other members of the church started to quite down. They looked in the direction of the 'sinner', trying to figure out what the clone was talking about.

    "What?" Hunter asked. Tech, Wrecker, and Crosshair all watched defensely, with Wrecker walking over to the two.

    "You know, since you're a-"

    "Shut up." Wrecker said as he placed a hand on Hunter's shoulder.

    "Since you're a faggot."

    The church was silent. The locals looked at each other like they made a revelation. Something in Hunter's chest tightened when he saw the way they looked at him. There was so much hatred and disgust and even if he was used to the look, this feeling was different. It was why the sparks of anger were in their eyes that made it hurt more.

    "What's wrong with you?" One of the other regs said. He looked apologetic as he dragged his brother away.

    "That was strange" Wrecker said as he grabbed Hunter and led him to the rest of the batch. "Anyway."

    As the mission progressed, Hunter could never shake the feeling that he was being watched. Tech hadn't been wrong about the planets religious practices. But it was nothing that Hunter couldn't handle.

    The Jedi consently had to ignore priest's comments about damnation and the failure of the Jedi to see the one true religion. The general didn't seem to be as bothered as the commander. When clones started to get between the adults and the child, concern rose. When the child's master interfered, that when they knew to watch their backs.

    Watching the church members made Hunter realize just how closely they were observing him. Every time he looked that them, they adverted his gaze.

    The soldiers set up camp near the church per the regest of the priest. The general, a Twi'lek Jedi by the name of Mal, walked up to Hunter. "The priest is requesting your assistance in the church." Something about the way the Jedi talked, made Hunter nervous.

    "I'll go get the rest of my batch and we'll check it out."

    As Hunter started to walk away, the Jedi stopped him, "he just requested you."

    "General, I don't think it's a good idea to go alone." Hunter tensed.

    "The priest asked you to find a girl that's been missing. He told me to have you meet him in the church so he can give you her blanket so you take her." General Mal put a hand on his shoulder, "I gave him a good amount of questions Hunter. Hell, I practically intragated him. The priest just wants to find the girl, you'll be okay."

    Nodding, Hunter went to the church. The big doors felt more ominous in the dark. Slowly, he opened the door and walked in. Shutting it quietly, Hunter started to walk down the dimly lit aisle. "Hello?"

    "Hello, Hunter. The priest walk out from behind the alter. That's when Hunter saw the lit candles by the running fountain. The alarm bells that had been going off in the man's head, only got louder. The clone stopped walking about half way through the church.

    "I was sent to investigate a missing persons case." Hunter answered shortly.

    "What do you believe Hunter?" The priest sounded so calm and kind, yet there was nothing kind about him. Stepping down the stairs, the man walked to meet him.

    "I don't know, sir?" It was an honest answer.

    "Do you know what I believe?" The human man walked over to him. "I believe you are lost, that you have stayed away from the heavens."

    "I was sent to track a missing girl, what you believe is irrelevant right now." Hunter started to walk to the door. "I'll ask around then." Members of the church walked out from a hallway. Grabbing his gun, Hunter was ready to shoot his way out. 

    The priest grabbed his from behind.  The two fought over the gun for a moment before a few shots went off. No one was hit by the stray bullets. Another man grabbed Hunter, forcing the gun out of his hand. The Besalisk man wrapped all four arms around him and picked him up. Hunter kicked and squirmed, trying to get away. Reaching for his vibro-knife, he realized it was already gone.

    The man's grip never softned. The pressure hurt as Hunter's armor pressed into his skin.

    The priest started to say a prayer as the man tossed the clone into the fountain. Hunter started to try to get up. However the Besalisk grabbed him by his hair and held him under the water.

    There was so much going on in Hunter's head. He knew coming to the church alone was a mistake, yet he still did. Kicking at the man's feet, a clawed foot slammed down onto his legs, trapping him. Grabbing at the hand that held him under the water, Hunter panicked. Where they really going to kill him?

    It was suffocating. As Hunter started to feel weaker, the foot moved from his legs and he was pulled out of the water. He heard some of his hair rip out from the force. Coughing, Hunter tried to stand. However he was forced to stay on his knees in the water.

    The priest stood in front of him. "You have been cleaned, however we must rewrite over your sins."

    "What, is wrong with you? Leave me alone." Trying to breathe, Hunter kept coughing, trying to get the water out of his lungs.

    "I'm saving you."

    The Besalisk pulled him out of the fountain. Still trying to fight the man, the soldier listened to the whispers. One woman was saying they needed to  get rid of his tattoo. Another church member was scowling, saying his hair needed to be cut, that it being so long was a disgrace to the lord and far to feminine for any man.

    What Hunter knew for sure, the next time he saw General Mal, he was throwing hands.

    There was a back room in the church. While trying to fight, the church members dragged him inside of the room. There was a table, but that wasn't Hunter's biggest concern. His biggest concern was the women in the corner.

    She stood at about his height and had pale skin paired with her black hair. Unlike every other women in the in the religion, she wore a black dress. However, like all the other dresses it was floor length with flowing sleeves and turtle neck. She looked like a ghost. The women had lipstick that was the bright red of the carpet.

    Now inside the room, Hunter tried to reach for his comm. It was the first chance he had to even think about trying to call for backup. A harsh hand grabbed his wrist. "Don't, we are saving your soul. We don't want you to suffer."

    Trying to speak, Hunter's voice caught in his throat. His breathing, which had already been fast, sped up. The Besalisk man still held him.

    There were scissors on the table as well as a needle and some white clothing. Hunter focused on the girl to see what she was holding. In her hand she held a box. "Bring him to me." Her voice was angelic and soft. Most of all, it was unnerving.

    So the man complied. "Hello Hunter."

    "Let me go."

    "Dear, we just want to free you."

    "I don't need it. Better yet, I don't want it. Let me go, I need to get back to my men." Hatred laced Hunter's words.

    "Hold him still." The women nodded and someone grabbed the needle off of the table. Opening the box, the girl took a necklace out of it. It was silver and bore the religion's symbol, a cross with an anatomically accurate heart in the middle.

    While Hunter struggled, a needle was driving into the side of his neck. Trying to break free, he almost broke the syringe. The women walked up to him, her heels clicking on the ground. Her soft hand cupped the clones face. Then she kissed him. Hunter tried to pull away.

    "When the medicine starts to affect him, you may leave." Everyone nodded. The woman kissed him again, taking her hands around his neck and clasping the necklace on him. Hunter was able to pull away this time.

    "You drugged me."

    "It is a necessary evil."

    Thinking of what the women had said earlier, Hunter started to act weaker than he felt. When the women smiled, the clone knew he made the right decision. She moved the clothing off the table and motioned for them to put him on the table. "Remove his armor."

    With the men still in the room, a Hunter made the painful decision to stay still. After they removed his armor, the man started to feel the real effects of the drug.

    "I have him now. May I act only with the intent to heal and act without any lust" she prayed. The men left and the women climbed into the table and started to remove her clothing.

    Hunter fought the drowsy feeling of the drug. It was like fog had taken over his brain. Starting to try to stand, the woman gently pressed his shoulders back into the cold, metal table. "Don't worry child, I will take good care of you."

    "No" Hunter whispered. "Please no."

    "Oh yes " The woman removed her dress, then his shirt and lastly his pants and undergarments.

    Everything from there was a blur. Hunter remembered the feelings of the priestess touching him. He remembered how helpless he felt and knowing he should have been stronger than this. The women's fingers danced their sinister dance on his skin, making Hunter want to throw up. He wasn't sure if it was the drugs or assault that made him nauseous.

    Hunter was scared. This was a whole new level of helplessness, something like he had never felt before. The weight of the women on top of him, the feeling of his dick in her, the feeling of her lips touching his, all of it was too much. The man hated every part of her.

    Soon, the drug started to wear off. As Hunter regained his strength, the priestess moaned as she reached her finish line. "Stay still dear, you haven't finished. You have to be cleansed of your sins." Pushing him back to the table, the women started to trust her hips quicker.

    The world was clearer, but Hunter almost wished it wasn't. Never before had Hunter felt so weak. Raising one hand, the clone clawed at the priestess, trying to get her off of him. The drugs, even while they were wearing off, still made him mostly unable to fight.

    However he wouldn't need to fight. It was a natural reaction for his body to have given the stimulation it had reserved. Him finishing, had not mentioned he enjoyed it. As Hunter came inside of the priestess, she gasped and grabbed his shoulders, drawing blood and leaving scratches behind.

    Then she got off of him. Feeling stronger, Hunter looked around the room. He found his clothes and armor. The woman was grabbing the white clothing that was supposed to replace his blacks. Now it seemed like a good time for the world to stop spinning.

    After a moment, Hunter tried to stand. Still unclothed, the clone planned his escape. The woman came back over to him, the white clothing in hand and handed him undergarments first. "Here dear, now that you have been rid of your sins, you may cloth yourself."

    Breathing heavily, Hunter snatched the clothes, still dazed. The woman never turned around. Stumbling, he put on the underwear. But as things started to clear more than before, Hunter was hit with everything that had happened.

    Justified with religion, this woman had just sexually assaulted him. She had taken his body with drugs and force. There was no evidence that she even regretted any part of it. She truly believes that her actions healed him. Instead she hurt him. This would take time to scar.

    Hunter's clothes were in the corner. Getting in his feet, the man couldn't submit to this treatment anymore. The priestess had finally turned around to grab the scissors to cut his hair off. The hair he took good care of.

    She was as unsuspecting as he was. Still mostly naked, Hunter wrapped his arm around the woman's neck. Shushing her, he placed one hand over her disgusting mouth.

    When she stopped fighting, the way he hadn't been given an opinion to, Hunter tossed her to the ground. Still stumbling, he grabbed his clothes and put them on. The man wasn't sure when he had gotten his armor on, but he knew it was one. The effects of the drug had mostly worn off but his brain couldn't process the trauma. He was disassociated.

    Hunter placed a finger on his comm. "Cross" he spoke, shaking"

    "Where are you?" He snarled in response. "We have been looking-"

    "The church." Tears started to fall down Hunter's face. The dark room concealed most of the activities. "Please, I need h-" sobs took over the rest of his words.

    Crosshair was silent for a moment. "We're on our way."

    Forcing himself to stand, Hunter stabilized himself. Walking to the door, that was a whole other story. The lower half of him hurt. Nothing quite felt real. But Hunter still opened the door. The smell of candle smoke hit him.

    As the priestess started to stir behind him, Hunter debated killing her. It would be impossible for her to hurt anyone else. It felt like the right thing. But fear grabbed his chest, reminding him it was still there. Choosing between fight or flight, Hunter chose flight.

    Walking into the hall, Hunter scouted the area. It seemed the members of the church respected the priestess's privacy. Still crying, the man placed a hand over his mouth, trying to silence himself. Using the walkway closest to the wall, he ran to the door.

    As Hunter opened the door, he slowly closed it then ran down the stairs. When he got to the last few stairs, he tripped and expected to hit the stone. Instead, Wrecker caught him. Hunter hadn't realized he was breathing so heard until Tech told him he had to slow his breathing down or he could pass out.

    Jumping back, Hunter made sure they weren't touching him. Physical contact was important to Hunter but right now if someone touched him again, he might just kill them, or maybe he'd just shut down.

    "What happened?" Tech asked, calmly.

    "I- they- I can't-" deciding he wasn't far enough from the church, the clone started to walk away.

    For the first time, Crosshair realized that Hunter's hair was damp. The look in his eyes told him that whatever happened, it took a part of Hunter that he had never seen. "What did they do to you?"

    After another moment, Tech's attention also changed to Hunter's damp hair. "Did they, baptis you?" He asked.

    Hunter stopped walking. Not because of Tech, but because the church door opened. The priest and priestess walked towards him. "Dear" the woman started, "you cannot walk away now. You have been saved, don't turn back to your sin."

    The man didn't say anything. Wrecker moved to stand more in front of Hunter. "Leave him alone" he warned.

    "You have been cleaned, both spiritually and sexually-"

    "What?" Crosshair growled. That was why Hunter seemed so lost. Tech hardly looked angry but right now his glare would be sharp enough to kill someone. Wrecker cracked his knuckles and stepped closer to the two church officials.

    "We just need to make a few more adjustments."

    Crosshair pulled him gun. "Stand back."

    "Haven't you hurt him enough?" Wrecker looked back at Hunter. Tears ran down his brother's face and he'd never seen him look so small. Even when facing the separatist, Hunter had never been so shaken into himself.

    "We didn't hurt him-"

    "Yes, you did. Hunter shows clear signals of distress." Looking at his brothers, Tech ordered them to remove their eldest brother from the situation

    "I- please just get them away from me." Hunter cried. "I don't want to be here anymore."

    So the clones left. As they walked Hunter put a hand up to his collarbone to try to ground himself, the chain of the religion necklace started him. Panicking, he pulled the chain away from his neck, snapping it. Holding the chain in his hand, the man threw it far away from him. His breathing, which has slowed, speed back up again and his brothers tried to help him calm back down.

    While trying to report the church officials for Hunter's assault, the general informed them that nothing would come of the report. "I'm sorry Hunter's I really am. No one here would arrest them and" he sighed, "you're a clone. Too many people would view what happened to you as property damage, if anything. Trying to take it any further may not be worth the hurt and once it gets out I don't put it past some people to harass you over it." The Jedi told him that he would do his best to keep him away from them.

    Healing would take time. Every time Hunter stood inside a church, he feared the officials. Even after the war, Hunter felt like he couldn't breathe inside of churches, especially alone with officials.

    Telling Echo his story, had been difficult but it was the only way to explain why the batch avoided churches. But Hunter found it easier to confide in him when he had nightmares or when he was having a difficult day as the memories plagued his mind and stole his focus. They days his body no longer felt like him own and the touch of another human could only hurt him. Somehow the scomp helped.

  Having a daughter, Hunter feared that she would be hurt. But at least someone would be able to help her through it. Hopefully it never came to that. The clone couldn't be sure he wouldn't kill anyone who hurt her the way the church hurt him.

    It took so long for Hunter to feel safe in any church. For the first time, walking to Pabu's church (a common building ground) the man felt safe walking inside. He knew, for the first time in years, that no one inside of the church would hurt him. Healing takes time.

@whumpthemusical

Whump: The Musical Day 9: Sweeney Todd (Razors)

Fandom: The Bad Batch

Warning: Self harm and mentioned death

Summary: Hunter was just trying to take a shower. But the quietness of the room allows his mind to wander to memories of the war.

  Turning in the shower, Hunter started to undress. It was been a long time since he had showered. When he removed his clothing, he looked down at his body for a moment. Gently he touched a smaller scar from his time as a cadet. He smiled softly at the thought

    As the water started to heat up, the man started to think. They were two years into the Clone War now. Trying to shake any negative feelings, he stepped into the shower. The water was warm and inviting. It ran over him and he watched dirt from the last mission run off of him and into the drain.

    There was nothing to focus on. The sound of the water hitting the shower floor was the only noise in the room. Hunter looked at his soap in the corner. Most clones didn't have sented soap but he did. When the batch had gone on one of their first missions, they found a few credits and he decided he wanted to take better care of his hair.

    That was the same mission that Hunter had watched a reg get bitten in half. Still alive, the man had screamed for him. The worm like creater, didn't finish off the reg so the Sargent did. Nothing could be done, so, when the reg told him to kill him, he did.

    Shaking his head, Hunter tried to find something else to think about. Looking at the faucet, he turned up the temperature of the water. It almost hurt but not enough for him to change it. Grabbing his shampoo, he out the gel in his hand. The forest and whiskey sent spread across the bathroom. Anything that was sented that Hunter owned all smelled the same.

    Running his hands though his hair, he thought about the last mission. A reg he had met, he had longer hair, about the length of Hunter's, had asked to braid his hair. So he let him. There was no harm that could come from it.

   The feeling of running his fingers though his hair reminded him of it. Despite the hot water, Hunter shook. The reg had shortly after died. The worst part had been that it wasn't a easy death. It was gruesome and bloodly and painful. The man hadn't deserved that and Hunter could have saved him. All he had to do was grab him; get him out of the way of the droids who couldn't see him.

    Trying to get the shampoo out of his hair, Hunter realized he already had. Grabbing the conditioner, he tried to get the step out of the way quickly. Rubbing it into his scalp, he tried to ignore every memory that floated though his head.

    Rinsing the conditioner out, felt to long. Turning the water up seemed logical. The water was burning now. Hunter's skin started to have a red tint to it. After that he decided to shave. He didn't do it often, but sometimes it amdw him feel better. Talking care of his body felt nice and shaving could be helpful.

    Taking the shaving cream off the shelf, Hunter out some on his arm. It was an accident. The man had given himself a cut. It was small but watching the blood run down his arm and drip into the shower, made everything in his mind quiet.

    Then he got an idea.

    Burning water wasn't enough anymore. It couldn't quite stop his mind from hurting him. Taking the razor, he cut his upper arm again. The shaving cream slid down his arm and so did the blood.

    Then he dug the razor into his skin again and again. Hunter had given himself multiple lacerations on his arm. Some were deeper than others but now of them were straight lines. They tended to have smaller cuts around the deeper ones. Crimson blood rain over his arm and down the drain. Tears mixed with water and Hunter pulled the razor away from his skin.

    The memories of the war faded as he looked at the razor. He realized he didn't even grab his own. The handle was orange. So here Hunter was, cutting himself with Tech's razor.

    Something snapped. Going to cut again, Hunter threw the razor out of the shower. Pressing his back against the wall, he sighed. The thought of Tech seeing his razor with blood on it made him panic a little. The concern would kill him.

    The man's eyes locked in on his body wash as he remembered he hadn't used it yet. However, the only thing Hinter was really thinking about was how he managed to grab Tech's razor and not his own. Trying to find a towel, Hunter realized he wasn't alone.

    Wrecker stood in the bathroom, holding Tech's razor. "What happened?"

    "Nothing. Give me a towel."

    Inviting Hunter's privacy, Wrecker opened the shower curtain. In shock, he dropped the razor. "Hunter" he said. "I heard you crying. I didn't know you had, um."

    "Just hand he a towel." So Wrecker did.  After that he grabbed bandages from the cabinet and some hydrogen peroxide to clean it.

    While Wrecker did that, Hunter got dressed. He left his shirt off to the side so that his brother could have an easier time wrapping his upper arm.

    "What happened?" Wrecker copied his question from earlier.

    Hunter just shook his head. His brother took that answer and put some peroxide on a towel. Dabbing it on the cuts, he softly took his hand.

    "Has this happened before?" It was surprising how gently Wrecker could be. Even though Hunter had known with his whole life, it still took him off guard sometimes.

    "No."

    "Please don't make this a habit. Just come find me okay. Don't do this to yourself again. Promise me." Wrecker looked so concerned. Hunter felt bad for putting him through it.

    "Okay. I promise."

    "All done." Taking a fun bandage out of the med pack, Wrecker out one near the wrap. 

    Hunter smiled softly. "Thank you."

Reblog if I can go on your page and write stupid things in your ask box whenever I'd like to.

June of Doom Day 5: Disfiguration

Fandom: Percy Jackson

Summary: Grover helps a half blood get into camp. However, now he must escape the monster chasing that had been chasing her.

Warnings: End of the Sea of Monsters spoilers (brief mention) and violence.

    Talking walks was one of Grover's favorite past times. Often he would end up down by Talia's pine tree. Even if she wasn't in it, the tree was still comforting.

    It was getting close to curfew. Percy had had a long day and wanted to head in for the night. Annabeth was reading. A walk seemed like a good way to relax before bed. Grover hadn't meant to end up at the pine tree; maybe it was the will of the Gods.

    The Satyr laid his back against the tree and just as he settled down he heard a panicked voice,"Help me!" The child yelled. Behind them was a hell hound running full speed to try and catch them.

    A half blood had found their way to camp on their own. Now they needed help. "Hold on!" Grover yelled. He ran out to them, grabbing them. "We have to get past that tree! Then we will be in camp's border!"

    "Okay!" The girl was maybe 15. She had long brown hair and tan skin. Her eyes were hard to see in the mostly dark environment. The girl was slightly shorter then Grover and had darker colored clothing on. Grover could see multiple scratches on her arms and could see where the hell hound had torn her legs up as well.

    As the two ran, the moster grabbed Grover by his shoulder. He screamed out in pain as the hound tossed him to the ground. The girl stopped to try and help him, but as the moster grew closer to her, Grover yelled for her to go. "I'll distract it!" He said. "Go!"

    The girl ran towards the tree. She stumbled but remained on her feet.

    "Hey!" Grover called to the monster. Looking around, he ran to grab a stick that wasn't to far from him. Throwing it, the stick hit the dog and it turned around. "Come get me!"

    The hell hound sprinted towards him. Grabbing another stick, Grover held it as he ran away from the monster. As the dog ran past him, he begradually threw it into the hounds eye. The creature howled as it turned to face the man.

    As the girl crossed into the barrier of Camp Half-Blood, the hell hound snarled. It barked as it ran, trying to grabbed Grover. As the animal grew closer, he jumped out of its way and started to run towards camp.

    The sun had set now. The horn had sounded to signal the end of the day and curfew. The wind blew gently. The weather felt so familiar, like a night seven years ago.

    Grover tripped; his hoof had hit a rock. The hell hound loomed over him. It put its  jaws around him, threatening to close around his ribs. Kicking the monster, the Satyr got free. As he started to run to where the half blood stood behind the border, the dog rammed into him, laying him flat on his back. Now under the hell hound, Grover yelled out to the new camper, "get help!"

    "Okay!" The child ran towards camp.

    Still under the hell hound, Grover tried to set himself free. During the struggle the hell hound's back leg landed on his own left leg. As the hound stepped down, Grover screamed. He heard his leg brake.

    Percy was just trying to go to bed. Laying on his bed, he finally realized the pain he had been experiencing wasn't just his body being sore from the day; it was his empathy link with Grover. His best friend was in trouble. Standing, he shoved his shoes on.

    Tears fell down Grover's face. The pain in his leg was severe. Trying to fight the monster off, he pulled the rock that had tripped him out of the ground. Slamming it into the hound's teeth. It wined and backed up.

    Percy flew over the hill with the new camper. He pulled his sword and ran right past the pine tree. "Grover!"

    "Percy!" Grover screamed, his voice breaking.

"Hold on!" Percy could tell he didn't have much time. He watched as Grover tried to stand. Immediately the Satyr was in pain. Trying to put pressure on his left leg was useless. The bones had been straightned. At least the Apollo cabin should be able to fix it. Grover fell right back to the ground. His scream sent fear into Percy.

Pulling his body away from the hell hound; that was now over being attacked by a rock, Grover looked between his best friend and the mister trying to end his life. As the dog closed in, Percy reached Grover. He sliced Riptide, his sword, though the hound. It disappeared into nothing.

Sobbing, Grover tried to stand. "No no no, you stay there. I'll carry you back." Gently, Percy picked up his best friend. Every time he placed some pressure on the leg, Grover would wince. As bad as Percy felt, he knew it was a necessity evil.

Reaching the border, Grover asked how the girl was. "She's okay." Percy answered. "Shaken up pretty good but okay."

Grover seemed to settle down a little knowing she was okay.

Inside camp, Percy took Grover to the infirmary and then went to wake up an Apollo kid.

Lee Fletcher, head of the Apollo cabin, walked into the infirmary with Percy. "Dear Gods." He whispered. His face looked grim as he walked over to the bed. Then he assed Grover's injuries and treated what he could.

After assessing his injuries, Lee explained what had happened. "Let's ease into this. You have a few scratches and some puncture wounds from where the hound tried to bite you. I can stitch those up and get them healed pretty quickly."

Walking away from a moment, Lee grabbed a diagram of satyr anatomy and continued to explain Grover's injuries.

"When the hell hound stepped on you, it shattered your Patella, or you knee." He pointed it out on the diagram. "The bottom of your Femur and the top of your Tibula also broke. You're Femur is broken in a few places, which is one of the reasons your leg is laying flat. Your Calcanerl Tuber is also broken as well as a few other bones in your body."

Still looking at the diagram, Lee sighed. "I don't know how you stayed awake. Pain like that tends to knock people out. Braking your Femur is one of the worst bones, to break."

"So, what now?" Percy asked.

"Will I be able to walk again? I need to be able to walk again."

"With your injuries, seeing as your leg will need to be reconstructed; a surgery no one here knows how to perform, I can't say for sure. You'll need extensive physical therapy even after the surgery. Unfortunately, it's unlikely you'll walk for a very long time. All of this is assuming the surgery would be able to fix your leg. I'm really sorry Grover."

"I need to walk." Grover cried. "How could I be a searcher if I can't walk? How can I find Pan? How can I protect my friends? Everything I do-" he broke out into sobs. Percy sat to the right of him and grabbed him into a hug.

"I'm sorry."

Day 4: Les Misérables (Survivors Guilt)

Fandom: Star Wars (Post Order 66)

Summary: Obi-wan Kenobi deals with his guilt.

    It had been years since the end of the Clone War. Obi-wan still thought about it often. He wondered how he survived or why he kept persevering.

    When he was 25 he survived a battle with a sith. As a padawan he should have been the one laying in the ground. But instead Qui-gon, his only father figure, died.

    During the war he watched his friends slowly die off until he was the only survivor of his friend group from his earlier years. It didn't seem fair. He still stood even as his men fell beside him.

    Maul killed innocent people to get his attention. He killed Satine just to get to him. Her death had been his fault yet he walked away.

    The Jedi purge had killed most every Jedi. The clones, their most trusted ally had killed their Jedi generals and commanders. The younglings in the temple had been slaughtered like cattle. They were defenseless.

    Most of the council had fallen yet he was alive. Instead of fighting, Obi-wan walked away. He hid Luke from his father; a monster he had taken part in creating. Even if by accident, there had to be something he could have done for Anakin.

    Everyone around the man died. Their ghost haunted every corner of his cave. They whispered in his ears, asking him why he survived.

    Maybe he needed to go outside. So the man walked out of the cave. He let the hot sun touch his skin. Every part of his old life tormented him. The memories plagued his life. They destroyed him in the same way he domed the people around him.

    The sun only made him hotter. He had hoped that maybe it would melt some of the guilt that had frozen him, but it didn't. Luke was around five now.

    The man had fallen into a routine. Yet nothing he tried made him feel any better. Obi-wan didn't want to spend the rest of his life miserable, he didn't want to be consumed by the tormenting memories and guilt that he had been swallowed whole by.

    Maybe a walk could help?

    Walking around, Obi-wan couldn't escape his own mind. Padme should be raising her children. But Obi-wan had let Anakin kill her. He couldn't save her, maybe no one could.

    Dealing with others survivor guilt had been easy. Obi-wan knew how to comfort Cody when his brothers died, he could help with the feeling that he should have done more or that he should have been there or that it should have been him. The jedi could explain that nothing could have been done and that his brothers wouldn't want him to feel so guilty over something he couldn't control.

    The same has gone for Anakin and the rest of his men. Obi-wan had talked to Kit Fisto when he started to feel that way and he had helped to calm Depa Billaba with the death of her first battalion. He had helped to guide Anakin in helping Rex with the guilt of Umbara.

    It wasn't so easy to get rid of the guilt yourself. Nothing helped. Obi-wan started to run. Like running would do anything. You can't outrun yourself, it's impossible. Getting away from the cave, from where his lightsaber rested, seemed like a good idea. Maybe he just needed to get away from that faster?

    It was hard to run in the sand. Stopping, Obi-wan sat in the scorching hot sand. What was doing? This was where his life was supposed to go. He was supposed to be living happily with the people he'd lost.

    There was nothing left to do. So he walked home. Tears fell from his eyes as he walked. The guilt worsened with every step.

    Being the survivor was hard. It might have been one of the hardest things Obi-wan had ever done. But there was no way to change that. The fact was he wasn't god, he wasn't even close. All the people who died were going to die and there was nothing he could do about it. Obi-wan Kenobi was just a man. No man on his own can prevent death. No matter how hard they try they can only put it off.

    The entrance of the cave Obi-wan sighed. Facing himself, he walked in and sat down on his bed. Laying down, he let every feeling drag him down until he was lying there sobbing. Sometimes you have to let yourself feel it.

    Hours went by and he finally calmed down. The feelings would live with him forever. The memories would haunt him forever. There was nothing he could change and now he had to live with it. Why he survived, Obi-wan still didn't know, but there had to be a reason. There had to be. The Jedi just wished he knew what it was.

June of Doom Day 8: "This is Your last Chance."

Fandom: Spy X Family

Warnings: Torture and major character death

Summary: Twilight is caught by the SSS. While trying to find a way to escape, Loid finds he is running out of options.

    Twilight didn't know how he ended up in some dark shady basement, but he knew that he was in one. What had he been doing before waking up here? His hands were in chains up. The metal cuffs wrapped his wrist harshly. With his hands above his head, he could already feel his fingers starting to go could.

    There was a door across from him. It was a gray, metal door and it was only seven or eight feet away from him. Pulling his body down, Loid tried to see if he could touch the door. When he came to the conclusion it was not possible, he pulled his legs closer to his body.

    As Loid looked around, pieces of what had happened started to fill his mind. Bond and him had been doing a simple mission for his handler. Just grab some Intel and get out. Something had messed up the mission when everything had gone black. Where was Bond? Had he gotten away? Loid hated to admit it, but Bond had become one of his closest friends. Where was his dog?

    Without a way to get the answer to where Bond was without escaping, Loid tried to focus on assessing the room. With the way the door hinges lay, the door opened in. That could be a useful detail for Loid's escape. The room had no windows and was only lit by a small lamp in the corner of the room. Going for the lamp, Loid used his feet to try to move it closer to him.

    When that failed, he decided that he had to remove the chains first. Without anything else, Loid needed to dislocate a bone in his thumb to be able to free himself. Looking at his hands, the spy made the decision to start with his left hand.

    The process of dislocating your thumb in a way to be able to force your hands out of handcuffs, was one Loud knew well. He could visualize the 27 bones that were in his hand. The first CVC joint needed to be dislocated so that he could move the metacarpal out of the way of the cuffs. He knew the exact angle and amount of pressure if took to dislocate the joint. He knew exactly how to relocate the bone and how many times he had pulled this painful trick out of his sleeve.

    It would get easier as time went on and as he did more damage to his joints. However, sometimes damaging himself was the only way to escape. Loid was always careful with went he dislocated his his right thumb. That hand was his shooting hand after all.

    Before he could do anything, Loud heard footsteps in the hall. From the sound of them, the suspect would be about six feet tall and around 180 pounds. They wore slightly healed shoes so likely they were some kind of business shoes.

    When the door opened, it was silent. The light from the hall, hurt Loid's eyes. The man was quiet at first. He walked in and shut the door. As Twilight had expected, the man fit his expected description. He had auburn hair, fair skin, and green eyes. But that wasn't the first thing Loid noticed. The man wore an SSS uniform.

    "Damn it" Loid thought. This couldn't be good.

    "Hello." The man had a deeper voice. "Twilight."

    A chill ran thought Loid's spin. How could he know? How did the SSS learn that he was Twilight.

    "What?" Loid's surprise came easy to him.

    "It is Twilight right?"

    "Who is Twilight?" Loid slipped parts of his own fear into his voice. "Where am I?"

    "Where you are, is of no concern to you. As for who is Twilight, you know the answer."

    "I don't know! Why am I here!?" As they argued, Loid tried to figure out how the SSS had uncovered him. Has they uncovered him as Loid Forger? Where Anya and Yor okay? Bond had been with Loud when he was caught. Where was he? What kind of gun did the agent have and where did he keep it? Loid was confident he could kill him if he could take him by surprise. Where did Yor think he was? Would he be able to get any assistance from WISE?

    It took Twilight a moment to realize he had been so quick to worry about his 'fake' family. He really did care about them. Hopefully, they hadn't been wrapped into his discovery.

    "You are Western spy. You're Organization is WISE, no?"

    "No!"

    "Well then, who are you?" The SSS agent walked towards him, confidently.

    "My name is Leon Thorn." It had been a long time since Twilight had used tears as a way to try to convey innocence.

    "So is that what you go by now a days?"

    "What?" Loid let his voice break. "I'm not a spy!" Tears fell down his face. However, the agent had given him the answer of 'did they know Loid Forger was Twilight?'

    As the agent kneeled, Twilight swept his feet out from under him. Then he lunged forwards. As the enemy grabbed his gun, Loid tried to get it into his hands. As the SSS agent raised the gun, the spy went to kick it away from him.

    The State Security Service was smart enough to send a skilled agent. The green eyed man grabbed his ankle and slammed it into the ground so hard it broke. Suddenly Loid's ankle was bleeding and there was a gun in his rib cage.

    Trying to pull his hands down, Twilight jurked himself forward. The pressure only hurts his wrist as he was slammed back into the dark gray wall.

    "Twilight."

    Loid didn't answer. Instead he just stared at him, hate in his eyes. Yet no amount of hate Loid could have in his eyes would match the storm going on in the agent's. It was like a witch's cauldron.

    "After all this time, you've finally been caught." Jabbing the gun further into Loid's Ribs, he continued to talk. "I didn't believe my colleague when he said he believed he had seen Twilight."

    With every problem Twilight had to face, he found himself wondering about Bond more then anything. "Where is my dog?"

    "Really? That's the first thing you say? How the hell should I know?!"

    Bond had gotten away. Maybe he would go and find Franky? However, it was unlikely. Bond would likely be taken to the pound as a stay where they would call the apartment.

    Twilight didn't answer.

    "Now, Twilight, you can answer my questions or we can do this the hard way. While it may not look like there is much I can do to you in this room, I have a few methods and a few items outside of this room I can bring in."

    Again, Loud stayed silent.

    "This is your last chance." The gun was jammed further into Loid's side. Blood started to seep through his clothes. The pain forced him to have a physical reaction to it. Using his legs, Loid attempted to shove the agent. He was lucky the gun didn't go off. Instead the agent stood and slammed it over his head. "You'll regret that."

    The man turned around and started to walk to the door. "And don't think you'll slip your hands out of those cuffs; they are meant to stop your kind."

    "Let's see if you remain fealty to your country." As he opened the door, he started to yell at someone Loid couldn't see. "Find the damn dog that was with him and figure out who 'Leon Thorn' is!" The door slammed after him. Loid could only hope they would leave Bond alone.

    Loid wasn't sure how long it had been. Normally, he was good with time. He lay with his back against the wall. There was little feeling in his hands. All he could feel was they were cold and they hurt. Everything hurt.

    The man feared footsteps in the hall. It had been a long time since he had truly experienced fear. Twilight had been water boarded, burned, starved and beaten. Multiple of his bones had been broken. His WISE pin stabbed into his chest, over his heart. A knife had been drug across his body, creating rivers of blood on his skin. One stab wound in his left hip had gone down to the bone.

    Blood poolled around Twilight. The man was shivering, his breathing was quick. His eyesight was blurry as he looked around the room. Looking at his hands, he tired to pull them to a place where he would be able to hold some injuries. However they were to close to the wall.

    Putting his left arm over his head, Twilight tried to pull his hand down hard enough to dislocate his CVC joint. The force was to much and tears formed in his eyes. The thoughts of death that Loid had tried to avoid broke into his mind as he started to shake worse. The taste of salt unnerved him. As he started to cry, his tears mixed with his blood and got caught in some facial lacerations. After trying to dislocate his thumb for a moment, the man gave up and laid his arm back on the wall.

    As Loid pulled his legs a bit closer to him, the door opened.

    "This is your last chance." The agent spoke harshly. Loid breathed heavily, tears still following from his eyes. Air didn't seem to want to go into his lungs. The pain he felt, was something he learned he could have only imagined. "Tell us the locations of WISE's hideouts or you die."

    Loid stayed silent other than his soft cries.

    "Fine, have it your way."

    Was this it? Dying in some dark room in Ostania? Loid thought about Anya and Yor and Bond. He hoped they would be okay. There was nothing left for him to do. The SSS agent sighed as he pulled out his gun. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to shoot you in a way you'll die quickly."

    "Whats-" Loid coughed. "Your name?" The only tactic that Twilight had left was humanizing himself.

    "Funny."

    "I want to know the name of my executioner." Twilight squeezed out the words.

    "Thomas."

    "Hello Thomas."

    "Hello Twilight."

    "Good job, everything hurts." Loid tried to laugh but ended up quietly whimpering.

    Thomas gave Loid an amused smile. "I know what you are doing. Don't bother."

    "Okay." Loid realized just how badly he was shaking. He was terrified and it wasn't death that scared him. "It's cold."

    "That's the blood loss."

    "I know."

    The man walked over to Loid. "Goodbye Twilight." Loid met Thomas's eyes. He let out a shaky breath as he realized this really was it.

    The dead in Loid's eyes surprised Thomas. He saw the pain, tiredness and worry that must have been around for years. He sighed. "Do you have a name?"

    "Loid."

    "I'll take your dog to a shelter if we find him."

    "Thank you. He-" blood came out of Loid's mouth; "has a tag. My wife and daughter, know nothing."

    "Okay. This really is your last chance." Thomas's voice was lower then it had been. Loid hadn't remembered that while they were enemies, harsh facades could fade.

    "I won't."

     "Then-" placing the gun over the spy's heart, Thomas continued; "Goodbye Loid." Then he shot.