( limelight ) overflow

[featherduster]

i preemptively know i'll need this

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( AU ) cw: child abuse, hand/finger breaking

[featherduster]

The room is large, but relatively unassuming. It smells like rubber and sweat, as any gym does. But instead of weight lifting equipment and treadmills, there are padded walls and floors and a rack of weapons: guns, blades, whips, maces. A man with an unusually severe face stands in front of it, clipboard in hand, poised to take notes.

You’re standing in a line with your peers -- your twin brother, Van, to your left; your best friend, Cori to your right. You flex your right hand, some phantom pain lacing through it. The man says, simply, “Again.”

Cori explodes into movement first, darting out of sight. She’s the best at this, you know that, but she also has the most to prove. You feel the backs of your knees cave out from a sudden strike, and you reach out to shove Van backward, out of the way. Which is not what you’re supposed to do. You know that too.

Cori drives the head of her baton between your shoulder blades, the pain arcing down your spine and across your shoulders. You twist, ignoring how it drags the pain sideways, and see Van move; he strikes out as if to give Cori a blow to the head, something that would almost certainly free you from your own predicament.

His hand, the training dagger clenched white-knuckled in his fingers, stops short. For a tense second, no one moves. Adrenaline and fear pump suddenly, in a way the fight didn’t inspire.

When the stillness is broken, it’s the severe man with the clipboard, backhanding Van across the face. He staggers back; you and Cori remain frozen in place, like prey animals trying not to be seen.

“That’s a fail for all three of you,” he says, calm as anything.

The weapon pressing into your back retreats, slowly, and you stand, equally slowly. There’s some sick combination of fear and relief -- if all three of them are being punished, it’s less bad than Van alone being the target.

“Left hands this time.”

“Yes, sir,” you all say in unison, stiff and obedient. You remember the last round -- right hands, fingers crushed and broken, then healed back together, then crushed again, over and over. Too much reaction meant more rounds.

You, Van, and Cori present your left hands.