Wally AU Oneshots And Other Stuff

Mob (Initiation P1)

((TW! Angst/Horror/Gore!))

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Running from a mob was tiring. But being captured by them even more so.

The last six months of your life had been absolute torment. Barely any sleep. Hardly a quiet moment. Your existence had been saturated by constant anxiety, exertion, sacrifices and nightmares.

You weren't sure what had been worse. The constant chase from Wally Darling's henchmen during your waking hours.

Or the never ending, re-occuring nightmare of a six-armed monster, clad in red and adorned with necklaces made of eyes, during your sleep.

No hotel had been safe for more than 48 hours. Wherever you went, no matter the means of transport, the family would always catch up to you. No city felt welcoming anymore. Not a single person trustworthy.

It wrecked your brain. And your body.

The signs of stress had been very much obvious in your physique. Like nasty wounds. Wide open and oozing.

Your eyes were barely filled with life anymore. So dull had they become. Almost as dark as the deep set circles underneath them. Only the occasional gleam of panic would have managed to give your eyes light.

Your skin had grown pale. It felt as thin as paper. So easy to tear and see through. To see deeply into your frightened, ever vunerable core.

If only you knew, that this level of vulnerability would easily pale in comparison to what you were about to experience.

The hunt had ended abruptly. You had chosen the wrong taxi to get into. Not noticing the driver missing an eye. You had asked him to take less traveled streets, so you had not been surprised, when he did.

When he had stopped to pick up another passenger however, you knew you were done for.

Of course you had tried to flee, but the giant green caterpillar had been a lot quicker than he looked.

A cloth with an unbearable sharp stench had been pressed over your face, effectively ripping your consciousness away.

For once you were allowed the luxury of a dreamless time. Just empty voids enveloping your mind.

You weren't sure whether to be grateful. Or frightened.

Unaware of how much time had passed, you came back to. Your head felt like it broke through the surface of a deep ocean, whose inky depths you had barely escaped. Similar to such an experience, you gasped for breath. Eagerly gulping down stale air.

Cold sweat coated every inch of your skin. It made your hair and clothes sticky. Disgusting.

Wanting to wipe the wet strands out of your face, you tried to move. But had to discover, that your hands were bound behind your back. Tied to the pipe of a radiator, which was clearly not on.

Hot panic seeped back into every fiber of your being. They got you. It was over.

Eyes shooting wide open, your head whipped around.

You were in a basement. Concrete floor. Concrete walls. Gutter in the middle of the floor. There were no windows. Only a lonely, cliché lightbulb on a cable provided light.

It was cold. The air stale and carrying the stench of rust.

The only way into or out of the room was a heavy looking hatch in the ceiling. A steep, wooden staircase connected it with the floor. And at the bottom of it...