Chapter Text
When Wemmbu finally blinked his eyes open, the world swayed in a dizzy, nauseating haze. It only took a few seconds for the memories to slam back into place. He pushed himself upright, rubbing the grit from his eyes as he took in his surroundings. A brutalist cell of damp stone walls, a freezing floor, and provided with nothing but the miserable cot beneath him. He had been stripped of his armor, his weapons, everything. All that remained was the throbbing in his skull and bloodied hair stuck to the back of his neck.
He pressed a hand to his temple. God, this was going to be a lot more than a headache and a half.
Before waking here, he’d forfeited to Flame after their battle, letting the man prance off on his high horse with the “strongest” title. A punch to his good ol’ ego? Maybe. Then Lettuce arrived. Wemmbu could barely piece the rest together, Lettuce’s obnoxious victory speech (in contrast to his army being entirely eradicated by the two demons), the flash of that newly acquired mace, the rising aggravation in his chest… and then nothing. Just a smash of glass and a sickly green fog creeping in at the edges of his sight and a shattering crack to his skull as he fell under the influence.
His head still pulsed with the memory, tender to the touch.
Getting clobbered by Lettuce alone might be a new low for him, but despite the obvious pressing nature of that thought, Wemmbu had other things to focus on. Upon standing, his head reeled. What kind of drugged-up gas had been used on him? His vision swam for a moment before settling enough for Wemmbu to shuffle across the rough flooring to grip the bars, leaning on them for support. In these moments, he was thankful for having the balancing aid of his tail. The restrictive cell didn’t allow for the best view, but he got enough of the idea. The hall greatly contrasted the holding blocks, it was almost cathedralic with high ceilings, delicate and ornate architectural detailing, and stretching crossing beams. The abundance of guards standing around did not go unnoticed by the man either.
With a sigh and a will to conjure an escape plan, Wemmbu turned away only to stop in tracks as a great shadow was cast into his cell. He turned back to be greeted by a familiar, fiery, and furry face. Loppezz stood on the other side of the bars, with a frown and arms crossed over her chest. Her ears poking out of her helmet twitched in irritation as she glared hard at the imprisoned demon. Wemmbu stepped forward.
“Turn around and place your hands through the slot,” Loppezz barked without pleasantries. Wemmbu complied without comment. He and this woman had a semblance of a past; fights, teamwork, usual chaos. They’ve undeniably crossed paths, and he knew her well enough to spare himself the conversation. He had nothing he wanted to say, anyways.
He slid his wrists in the small food slot in the bars and couldn’t help the annoyed grimace that overtook his features when he felt handcuffs bind his hands together tightly behind his back. It felt excessive, given how physically depleted, drained, and unarmed he was. Protocol seemed to be a force best left unreckoned to Loppezz.
Loppezz rounded the cell, unlocked the door and yanked Wemmbu out, with more force than necessary, for the love of God, he was still dizzy. Wemmbu frowned, regaining his footing as Loppezz led him through the prison, another armed guard positioning themself behind Wemmbu as they walked.
The hallways were long and in peak condition, Wemmbu couldn’t help his eyes wander around as new grounds were explored. Lettuce really put his heart and soul into this place, in reality, he’d expect nothing less from someone as pretentious as that man. But it seemed that love fell short when it came to actual prison living quarters. Wemmbu wanted to roll his eyes. He couldn’t help but wonder where he was being taken this soon after waking. Loppezz kept her back to him, not even sparing him a second glance. He watched her ears twitch as they walked, conspicuously listening for his footsteps and tail dragging on the floor behind her, making sure he didn’t stray. It was something at least.
The guard behind him shoved Wemmbu’s back to spur him forward and he had to fight the urge to bare his fangs—attack, do something, anything to maintain threat, but he kept himself in check. He was currently in no position to try anything smart. At the moment, he was cornered, he could recognize that much. Especially with the enchanted handcuffs restraining his arms behind.
Eventually, Loppezz opened a secured door, leading to what looked like an office space. Wemmbu looked around with furrowed brows. His mouth opened to question but before a single word could slip out he felt hands on him. Loppezz’s accompanying guard forced Wemmbu down in a chair, maneuvering his cuffed hands over the back of it. Wemmbu grunted as his instincts kicked in to struggle but was immediately shoved back down by Loppezz herself with an iron hand and glare. Wemmbu swallowed thickly, royally pissed.
Straps were placed around him, thoroughly binding his body to the seat. He tested their give with a shimmy of his shoulders as his rage simmered lowly in his stomach, they were enormously restrictive. Fabulous.
“What’s going on?” Wemmbu snapped, unable to hide his frustration, giving a sideways glare to the woman who was deliberately avoiding his gaze.
His answer did not come from Loppezz. It came from a painfully recognizable voice approaching from behind.
“That’s exactly what I plan to make you aware of,” Lettuce’s haughty tone rang out through the office. “Wait outside.”
Loppezz and the unnamed guard exited the room in silence, the reinforced metal door slamming shut with an eerie finality. Lettuce circumnavigated the large, polished oak desk placed in the center of the space, sitting down with a relaxed ease that only came from a man who believed he’d already won.
Wemmbu’s irritation spiked. “So?”
“As you’ve most likely discovered,” Lettuce spoke with a disgusting smile. “You’ve been officially apprehended by the Law for your crimes.”
Wemmbu raised his eyebrows at the mocking obviousness of the statement.
“And instead of serving, let’s see,” Lettuce looked through papers scattered on his desk. “Your three life sentences without chance of parole for convicted terrorisms and other assortments of transgressions, I have a proposition. You’ve inspired me, Wemmbu, really.”
Lettuce chuckled menacingly and in that exact moment, Wemmbu felt the air in the room shift. A power imbalance was attempting to be enforced, Wemmbu stayed stoic with a hard glare.
The lawman continued, “You run the risk of execution, if you want my full transparency. But, a new rehabilitation program is under construction, call it a passion project of mine, if you will.”
Lettuce paused, letting the silence and gravity sink deep inside of Wemmbu’s bones.
“I want you as my guinea pig.”
Wemmbu barked a sharp, incredulous laugh.
“Rehabilitation program? Are you serious? Wemmbu daringly mocked," his fiery spark not yet extinguished.
“Extremely,” Lettuce answered, matter-of-factly. “I’m doing this for you, out of the kindness in my heart.”
That made Wemmbu laugh even more. Lettuce was not appreciative.
“Your choices are to either rot here for the rest of your life, die, or accept my graciousness,” Lettuce hissed, his gentle façade slipping momentarily as he spat each word out like a damnation, his program held up as the lone gate to salvation. “This is an easy answer.”
Wemmbu inhaled deeply before sighing. “Fine,” he spat with no genuine intentions of taking it seriously. He assumed more freedoms would be awarded to him if he played nice for a bit, aiding his ultimate escape. It was seeming to be the best option, and Lettuce was pushing it relentlessly.
But Wemmbu should have known, he should’ve. The nauseating grin that spread across Lettuce’s face the second the agreement left Wemmbu’s heart-shaped lips froze the demon in a rigid standstill. He didn’t know exactly what he’s done, but he now knew. It was a mistake. A possibly catastrophic one.
“Lovely,” Lettuce practically purred as he stood. “For your cooperation, I have a gift.”
Opening a drawer behind his desk, Lettuce shuffled around in it for a moment before peaking his head back up. “You have to close your eyes.”
Wemmbu blinked, stunned at the childishness. “Seriously…?”
“Yes.”
Wemmbu grumbled a curse Lettuce thankful didn’t catch, or chose to ignore, and wearily closed his eyes. Albeit, he was peaking, trying to watch through the dark shade of his lashes. He couldn’t tell what Lettuce had pulled out but he strode over with a grin plastered to his face, rounding him to stand behind. He would hate to admit how unnerved he was at this moment.
His hesitant fear proved to not be misplaced when he felt metal click around his neck. His eyes shot open in response and flinched away from Lettuce’s posterior position. With his arms tightly captured, pinned to his sides, Wemmbu couldn’t tug at whatever was placed around his neck, or even get a good look at it.
“Stop, stop, stop,” Lettuce reprimanded, grabbing the metal ring around Wemmbu’s neck, harsher than necessary, forcing it to press into Wemmbu’s airway as he calibrated it. Lettuce hummed in satisfaction as the machine finally made a high beep, activating.
“Shock collar,” Lettuce informed in a voice way too chirpy. “Just a simple safety precaution, nothing more.”
“A collar!?” Wemmbu repeated, unfiltered rage seeping into his words, unable to do a thing in his bindings. “What am I? A fucking animal!?”
“Well, your kind is pretty animalistic in nature—” Lettuce was cut off by a deep guttural growl. Rich coming from a half-fox.
He continued, “But I would be careful, it is both automatic and manual,” he flashed the remote before pocketing it gracefully. “It monitors your aggression, heartbeat, and a plethora of other danger indicators. So, I would calm down if I were you.”
Wemmbu’s muscles tensed so violently against the restraints his arms rattled with determination. Unfiltered anger and a deep-set rage flooded his veins. Hot, blinding, primal. He yanked against the bindings again, harder this time, the leather biting into his arms. The collar shifted with each movement, cold metal scraping his skin.
“Take this off,” he snarled, breath coming in sharp bursts. “Take it off!”
His pulse hammered. His vision tunneled. Every instinct screamed at him to break free, tear apart the bolts of these infuriating cuffs, get his hands around Lettuce’s throat and—-
A sharp ringing click sounded from the collar.
Lettuce sighed lightly, almost bored. “You should really listen to my instructions.”
Wemmbu’s vision detonated, going completely white with searing pain.
A surge of electricity ripped through Wemmbu’s neck, tearing through his nerves like a serrated blade. His back arched off the chair, as much as it allowed, and a strangled, tearing cry ripped from his throat as every muscle seized at once. His teeth clamped hard enough to hurt, fangs digging into his tongue. The restraints creaked under the force of his convulsions, but they held. The voltage felt as if it were rattling his bones entirely, a hot searing pain overtaking his entire figure in a poisonous conquest. The shock cut off abruptly, as soon as it had come, leaving his body trembling in the afterglow of raw static. He slumped, breath ragged, sweat beading at his temple, body still trembling. He had experienced brutal, mind-wiping pain before. But nothing had amassed to what he had just undergone.
The gates of a new hell had just been swung open with full force.
Lettuce bent down to his level with a polite little smile that made the whole thing feel crueler. “See?” he said softly. “Automatic!”
Wemmbu tried to snap, to still fight, anything to let Lettuce know this was not a solution, but his vision flickered. His chest rose and fell in uneven heaves, fury still boiling beneath the shock’s residual sting, fury he could do nothing with.
Lettuce grabbed one of Wemmbu’s horns by the base, lurching his head back in a brutish manner, the bright lights hanging from the ceiling invading the demon’s hardly opened eyes as his vision was now forced upward. Wemmbu’s consciousness nearly slipped from the sudden whiplash after the shock.
“Let’s not make this difficult,” he chimed, standing to his full height again. “Unless you want to test the manual setting too.”
Wemmbu didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His jaw was still clenched too tightly to speak, and something inside him, something dark, stubborn, dangerous, was still thrashing even as the rest of him shook uselessly unmoving against the constraints.
“Now that you’ve had a taste of… that,” Lettuce paused to gather words. “I really hope you’ll begin to inherit an active role in your betterment. It would please me.”
Lettuce smiled, the smug kind Wemmbu wanted to viciously claw from his face.
Now open to testing the waters, Lettuce dared to continue, “Will you behave?”
“Fuck off,” Wemmbu hissed sharply, recuperating his strength.
Having been shut down, Lettuce hummed in amusement. “Very well. Your training will begin first thing tomorrow morning, I expect your all.”
“Training…?”
“Yes! I need my model citizen,” Lettuce beamed. “And perhaps a second-in-command if you earn it.”
Wemmbu pulled his head forward, anger reignited. He spoke in a plain and quiet voice, but he meant it in full, “I am going to kill you, if it is the last thing I ever do.”
“Yes, of course,” Lettuce hummed, summoning Loppezz and her lackey back to haul Wemmbu away.
“I look forward to your progress!”
—-
Wemmbu was uncaringly tossed back into his cell, body spent and exhausted from the newfound pain of electrocution, hitting the stone floor with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs. The metal door slammed behind him, the echo sharp and final. Every inch of him throbbed. Muscles twitching from the aftershocks, skin tender and seared where the collar had burned. He laid there for a long moment, chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven pulls, staring at the cracks in the ceiling like they might stop spinning if he watched them long enough, focusing his eyes on the damp stone.
His attention was soon pulled by the small clatter of a tray being set down on the small metal shelf of the slot in his bars unceremoniously. Wemmbu pulled himself upright, tilting his head as he observed it.No words. No guard in sight. Just the expectation that he’d crawl for it. The dormant collar dug into his muscles, his neck protesting with a sharp sting when it shifted as he forced his limbs to move.
Grabbing the tray and returning to the floor, Wemmbu examined. The food was barely anything even resembling sustenance. He was provided with a cup of water, a chunk of bread, and an odd looking vegetable soup. The grey-ish hue to it immediately put him off, but hunger didn’t care about dignity as he picked up the provided dulled spoon. The water tasted metallic, but his throat burned too much to care, forget about questioning it.
After a few slow, silent minutes, he shoved the tray aside and pulled himself toward the narrow bed. The thin mattress felt like heaven after the floor. He sank into it with a ragged exhale, eyelids heavy. The cell was dim, the air cold, but exhaustion wrapped around him like a weighted blanket.
His last thoughts flickered in and out, Flame walking away victorious, Lettuce smiling like he’d won something too, and the taste of failure thick in Wemmbu’s mouth.
Failure.
Something he's worked his whole life to avoid. The thing he detested the most.
That one, two-worded phrase carved into that wooden sign aligned strongly with his definition of shortcomings, practically burned into his memory. It repulsed him.
Wemmbu tiredly reached up, running nimble fingers along the cold steel that encased his neck. The collar squealed at him in response and his hand reactively shot down.
He turned onto his side, muscles twitching involuntarily.
Sleep didn’t come gently.
It came slow, but when it had, it dragged him under entirely.