Oneshots! (Mostly Hermitcraft)

For the Bad Boys (pt. 2) [Joel]

Febuwhump Day 20: Truth Serum ft. wolf!Joel
SEQUEL to Febuwhump Day 17: Hostage Situation

TWs: drug misuse

In which Joel is good at keeping secrets

Joel startled awake at the rattling of the run-down, hastily repaired door, pushing himself up and scooting backwards so his back was pressed against the wall. He bared his teeth at the Watcher and snarled, ears flattened to the sides of his head as his tail thumped on the ground, partially trapped by his current position. He strained against the zip-ties securing his wrists, wincing when the plastic cut into his skin. A blister from the previous night's struggle burst, spilling a fluid onto his hands. He flexed his fingers as the Watcher came closer, allowing another member of the gang to enter the room.

The first Watcher scoffed. "You Lifers are all pathetic once you're caught. A bit feisty," he said, crouching down in front of Joel and tracing a finger along his chin, "but pathetic."

Joel snapped at him, a growl rising in his throat. "How about you let me go and I'll show you how pathetic you are."

The Watcher withdrew slightly, taking his hand out of reach of Joel's pointed teeth. Joel grinned and licked his teeth, daring him to approach again. Instead, the Watcher snorted and grabbed Joel's arm, hauling him onto his feet. The Watcher's companion came forward and seized Joel's other arm and, together, they dragged him out of the room, barely pausing for him to regain his balance.

Despite his predicament, Joel made an effort to look around and memorise the shady passages formed by dilapidated crates and cardboard boxes. He pushed back when he glimpsed the main entrance where a team worked to repair the damage he and Grian had caused the previous day. A shoe connected with his back and he stumbled forward, taking a gasping breath of air. The Watchers shoved him forward again, dragging him as he stumbled over the uneven floor.

Finally, they arrived at a dingy room at the end of a tunnel of caving boxes and bent tent poles. A single flickering light illuminated the room. Another Watcher shoved a foldable metal chair into the centre of the room and promptly left, brushing around the group standing at the doorway. The Watchers shoved him into the chair and he pushed away from them, managing to snap his teeth by the ear of one of them. They withdrew and he drew back his leg to kick them, planting his foot solidly in the centre of their chest and thrusting them away.

The motion sent him to the floor as well as he overbalanced, landing harshly on his shoulder. The Watcher he hadn't kicked shouted and kicked him in the back, right above the kidney. Joel yelled and twisted away, moving his hands behind him to turn over and ball up to protect himself. They drove their foot into his ribs several times until he heard an audible crack, pain blossoming from his side. He bit his lip in an attempt to not cry out, grunting painfully as tears sprang into his eyes.

Another Watcher joined the first, attacking his opposite side. He curled in on himself as much as he could, exhaling firmly with every kick. At one point, his shirt tore – his jacket had been taken when they first took him hostage – and a shoe left a friction burn on his already bruised and likely fractured ribs.

"Enough."

The brutality stopped, leaving Joel gasping for air on the dusty ground. He closed his eyes as he concentrated on the pain, willing it to go away as the Watchers seized him by his upper arms and threw him into the chair, tying him down before he could attempt to escape again. He straightened to look his captors directly in the eye, wincing when he felt his bones grating together.

The gang leader leaned down in front of him, taking in his sharp teeth when he curled his lip to show them off. He spit in his face and stood upright again, watching disdainfully as he tried to wipe his saliva off his face. Joel returned to glaring at him, snarling when a hand drew back and struck his face.

"Where's the Life base?" the Watcher's leader demanded.

"I don't know," Joel said, shrugging to the best of his ability. A pipe hit his arm and he flinched, biting his tongue to avoid crying out.

"Don't get cheeky with me," he spat. The pipe bludgeoned his arm again and Joel did his best to ignore the pain, furrowing his brow as he breathed through his teeth. "Where's it?"

"I'll never give them away," Joel spat, barely managing to resist crying out when the Watcher struck him again. This time, he thought he could hear a small crack where the lead pipe landed on his arm, but he attributed it to his probably-already-broken ribs. He could feel them move slightly when he shifted away, squeezing his eyes shut from the pain.

"Well?"

"Screw off."

The leader scowled before gesturing to one of his cronies in the corner. "Last chance, wolf-boy," he growled, screwing open a bottle of light purple liquid. Joel shook his head stubbornly, clamping his mouth shut. The Watcher scowled, tipping some of the contents of the bottle into a syringe and replacing the plunger. Joel shifted away as he approached, letting out a growl deep in his throat.

The needle plunged painfully into his arm and the liquid – whatever it was – was injected into his blood. He grit his teeth, determined not to cry out as he felt several bubbles of air get forced in with the serum. After several seconds, his brain became cloudy and time seemed to slow down as the Watcher withdrew the needle.

"Where is the base?" the leader asked, crouching to be level with Joel's eyes.

The two engaged in a stare-off as Joel felt his thoughts slip and slide around in his mind. He opened his mouth slightly, then shut it rapidly, shaking his head to clear it. The action only worked marginally, fog descending and settling over his brain.

The back of someone's hand struck him on the cheek, causing his head to snap to the side. He grit his teeth, determined to remain silent. An image of Jimmy appeared in his mind and he zoned in on it, steeling himself against the questions and abuse fired at him. It was all he could do to remain silent and resist speaking, unable to concentrate on forming witty comebacks and replies.

A scream died in his throat as another needle was jabbed into his arm, pushing another dose of the serum into his system. This time, he squeezed his eyes shut, determined to resist giving them the satisfaction of seeing the pain in his eyes. He focused on sharpening the image of Jimmy, the man he'd given himself up for, in his mind, trying to recall more details about the canary hybrid. He thought he got close several times, but something always seemed to be missing, so he reconstructed his mental image of his friend and resisted the urge to speak, drowning out the heavy beating.

After the third injection, he could feel darkness encroaching on his already-closed eyes, if possible. He frowned and ground his teeth as he felt a hand grab his face and throw him around. The hand threw his head back and his neck cracked as it overextended. Tiredly, Joel raised his head, only to slump forward, leaning on his restraints. His mouth remained stubbornly closed, although he could feel himself weakening.

Focus on Jimmy, he told himself, and then he could think and speak no more.