[challenge fic: autocannibalism] Trapped
Title: Trapped
Characters: Duo, Trowa (mentioned), OC (mentioned)
Rating: Gross
Word count: 1871
If there were anything Duo would remember from waking up this morning, it would be the blinding pain. Cold water, coffee, there’s still nothing in this world that will wake you up faster than cold steel biting into your leg. Flushed in a panic, Duo scrambled around as he tried to get his bearings, bringing only more waves of pain that threatened to send him back into unconsciousness. Taking deep breaths, he tried to calm himself, keeping his limbs very still while he tried to get his bearings.
His name was Duo Maxwell and he was a former Gundam pilot, now a Preventer. He lived with his husband Trowa Maxwell, also a Preventer, in their house near Dover. Unfortunately, that was about as far as he got. What he was doing in this dark, musty room was lost to him. All he could remember was kissing his husband goodnight then waking up here.
Calmed a bit, he leant forward to work out what exactly was causing the pain in his leg, and what he found nearly caused him to pass out again. His ankle was torn badly from his struggling, and large amounts of both fresh and dried blood were pooled around the floor, lying in the centre was a rusty and vicious looking bear trap, snapped shut around his foot and chained firmly to the floor. Through the ruined flesh of his ankle he could see his snapped fibula jutting out into the open air.
Quelling a wave of nausea, Duo focused on how he got into this situation. Hopefully by working that out, he could arrive at how to get out of this situation. He had kissed Trowa that night because Trowa was worried. Worried about him going on a mission. The mission had been… chasing a terrorist. Licio Gelli, an agitator that had been linked to several bombings directed against the Preventers in recent months. Good, now he was getting somewhere: He’d left for Luxembourg, since intelligence had pointed out that he was planning an attack against targets in that area. He’d found the man’s hideout, and chased him all the way to Zürich, then right into the Bernese Alps. That was where his memories ended, no matter how hard he tried. So he was likely in the remote Alps, no one knew he was in the Alps because he was so busy chasing the guy he didn’t follow procedure again and his last check-in was in Zürich.
Sit-rep: Shit creek. Inventory: no paddle.
Gelli was also a particularly nasty person, he had learned even before having a bear trap attached to his foot. He had a real beef with Preventers and wasn’t afraid to use some nasty methods against them. Duo had caught up with him in Luxembourg while he was preparing to release neurotoxin into the ventilation system at the Preventer headquarters in the city. So Gelli was the likely culprit, since it was highly unlikely he walked into a bear trap in the middle of a lit, bare room.
Back to the bear trap, which hadn’t ceased to be any less painful since he woke up. On inspection, there was no rust around the teeth, which appeared to have been filed to a blunt edge. So he wanted the bear trap to be as painful as possible and no chance of it cutting through the leg to allow him to escape. After a couple of futile attempts to pry it open, he found the release mechanism had been welded, and the whole contraption had been braced and welded so that this was as wide open as it was going to get. More worryingly, Duo’s mind would keep wandering back to him hearing how animals would gnaw their own legs off to escape these traps.
The whole thought threatened to send the contents of his stomach all over the walls. Was that really the best option, to lose his foot? Logically, he had lost his foot anyway, even if gangrene didn’t set in his whole ankle had been crushed into uselessness unless he could get to a hospital within a few hours. He didn’t have any sharp objects on him to cut it loose, he’d already been stripped of his knife and gun. The bear trap had also been carefully prepared to make sure he couldn’t use it to get loose.
Gritting his teeth, he hobbled his good leg closer to the trap. Standing up, he braced both hands around his calf and pulled on his leg as hard as he could. Thankfully he didn’t feel any pain as his flesh tore slowly around the dulled edges, as blackness soon swarmed his vision and he passed out.
Waking up was once again even more unpleasant than his situation. One minute he was back in the caring arms of his husband, who was sweetly telling him that everything would be fine. The next, he was in complete agony with his leg caught in a bear trap. A bear trap. Actually, the pain wasn’t so bad this time around. Curious, he edged closed to the trap and his trapped ankle to inspect it. Most of the torn flesh around the jaws had healed, and there was scar tissue over the edge of the teeth. Yet, not much time had passed, as the blood that was pooled around the trap was still wet, and on touch - warm. There must be a nanite regenerator somewhere under the trap, healing him even as he tried to rip himself free. There was an upside and downside to this: if he passed out, his leg would be healed back up and he would have to do the work all over again. On the upside, if he did manage to get his foot loose, he could simply hold both parts back over the regenerator and he should be able to have his foot back, good as new.
Encouraged by this new development, Duo set to work on getting himself loose. Inspecting the bear trap closer, the whole thing was welded into position so that if he got most of the flesh out around his leg, he wouldn’t have to worry about the bone. There was another problem, however, now he remembered a bit about regeneration units. The nanites in the units would piece together flesh and even create new flesh, but they could create something out of nothing: people on regeneration units had to eat a lot of food so the nanites could process it out of their blood. However, for Duo there was only one thing he could eat: his leg. The thought was enough that he nearly passed out there.
Breathing steadily, Duo removed his shirt and wrapped it tightly around his leg in a tourniquet, pulling it as hard as he possibly could to stop blood flow. Cringing as he did so, Duo lent down to take the first bite out of his leg. He stopped and started many times over, each time not gathering quite enough courage to take that first bite. There was another problem: if he vomited, which was very likely, that would expel everything he currently had in his stomach, so he would have to eat that in addition to his foot. Suddenly he wasn’t feeling so encouraged.
Closing his eyes, he wrapped his teeth around the part of his leg that was in the teeth of the trap. He could taste the faint salty taste of his skin, but more overpowering was the metal. He bit in slowly, his eyes squeezed so tight they hurt, just not nearly as much as his teeth did, digging into his leg and drawing blood that he carefully drank, making sure that he didn’t lose any precious sustenance that could repair his leg. His stomach was rebelling as he ripped the piece of flesh from his leg, carefully swallowing and making sure he caught all of the blood.
Common knowledge has it that human flesh tastes quite like chicken, but for Duo all it tasted like was blood. Blood and ew and horribleness. Before, Duo wasn’t sure what ew tasted like, but now he knew. It tasted like this.
You know I can’t help but worry when you go on missions. I love you too much.
He’d just reassured Trowa, it was a standard mission; we go on them all the time. There was nothing to worry about; I’d be back home before you knew it. Now, lying there, blood dripping from his mouth, he know he could do this. He wasn’t doing this out of his own need to survive; he was doing it for Trowa. He promised Trowa he would be back, and eating his own foot was a small price to pay to be in Trowa’s arms again. Each of his successive mouthfuls, he told himself this. It is for Trowa, I must get back to Trowa. Each time his stomach rebelled, he admonished himself. You can’t fail Trowa.
He was becoming dizzy and nauseous, as much as he loved Trowa he couldn’t ignore his body’s own reactions. As much as he had tried to drink, there was still blood everywhere, all over the floor. His body was going into shock; his mind was disgusted at himself. His stomach was overreacting to trying to digest himself and he was getting a sinking feeling: he knew he was going to lose consciousness soon, and when that happened, all his work would be undone. He grabbed his leg, wrenching his foot as hard as he could. Flesh tore painfully, spraying blood in a stream down the teeth of the horrible device. A bone snapped, his foot was free and he tumbled backwards, hitting the floor with a horrible cry of pain, still clutching at his now amputated leg, spraying blood all over the floor. It was just too much. He quickly passed out.
He woke once again in his prison, Trowa’s voice ringing in his ears before the dream lifted: Come back to me, Duo my love. His foot ached horribly, like someone had crushed it in a bear trap. Oh, wait. Someone had. Oh, wait. His foot. Lurching up in surprise, he saw it there, still attached to his leg, and free of the trap. He had done it. It was horribly mangled, and as he tried to stand up, utterly useless. The regeneration unit had done what it could, but even it could not repair the damage of gnawing through your own leg.
He had gnawed through his leg.
He had bitten off his leg muscle and swallowed it.
Falling to his hands and knees, Duo wretched horribly, vomiting up the contents of his stomach. It was red mostly, all the blood he had drunk, followed by large chunks of what had to be his flesh: he had been too disgusted to chew, and just swallowed them outright. Heaving up the remaining bile, he just stayed there, on his hands and knees, crying. Crying at his situation, at what he had to do. Crying at the horror, at the fact he still wasn’t back in the comforting arms of his husband.
Hobbling to the door, still crying uncontrollably, he started his journey back to his beloved Trowa.
Characters: Duo, Trowa (mentioned), OC (mentioned)
Rating: Gross
Word count: 1871
If there were anything Duo would remember from waking up this morning, it would be the blinding pain. Cold water, coffee, there’s still nothing in this world that will wake you up faster than cold steel biting into your leg. Flushed in a panic, Duo scrambled around as he tried to get his bearings, bringing only more waves of pain that threatened to send him back into unconsciousness. Taking deep breaths, he tried to calm himself, keeping his limbs very still while he tried to get his bearings.
His name was Duo Maxwell and he was a former Gundam pilot, now a Preventer. He lived with his husband Trowa Maxwell, also a Preventer, in their house near Dover. Unfortunately, that was about as far as he got. What he was doing in this dark, musty room was lost to him. All he could remember was kissing his husband goodnight then waking up here.
Calmed a bit, he leant forward to work out what exactly was causing the pain in his leg, and what he found nearly caused him to pass out again. His ankle was torn badly from his struggling, and large amounts of both fresh and dried blood were pooled around the floor, lying in the centre was a rusty and vicious looking bear trap, snapped shut around his foot and chained firmly to the floor. Through the ruined flesh of his ankle he could see his snapped fibula jutting out into the open air.
Quelling a wave of nausea, Duo focused on how he got into this situation. Hopefully by working that out, he could arrive at how to get out of this situation. He had kissed Trowa that night because Trowa was worried. Worried about him going on a mission. The mission had been… chasing a terrorist. Licio Gelli, an agitator that had been linked to several bombings directed against the Preventers in recent months. Good, now he was getting somewhere: He’d left for Luxembourg, since intelligence had pointed out that he was planning an attack against targets in that area. He’d found the man’s hideout, and chased him all the way to Zürich, then right into the Bernese Alps. That was where his memories ended, no matter how hard he tried. So he was likely in the remote Alps, no one knew he was in the Alps because he was so busy chasing the guy he didn’t follow procedure again and his last check-in was in Zürich.
Sit-rep: Shit creek. Inventory: no paddle.
Gelli was also a particularly nasty person, he had learned even before having a bear trap attached to his foot. He had a real beef with Preventers and wasn’t afraid to use some nasty methods against them. Duo had caught up with him in Luxembourg while he was preparing to release neurotoxin into the ventilation system at the Preventer headquarters in the city. So Gelli was the likely culprit, since it was highly unlikely he walked into a bear trap in the middle of a lit, bare room.
Back to the bear trap, which hadn’t ceased to be any less painful since he woke up. On inspection, there was no rust around the teeth, which appeared to have been filed to a blunt edge. So he wanted the bear trap to be as painful as possible and no chance of it cutting through the leg to allow him to escape. After a couple of futile attempts to pry it open, he found the release mechanism had been welded, and the whole contraption had been braced and welded so that this was as wide open as it was going to get. More worryingly, Duo’s mind would keep wandering back to him hearing how animals would gnaw their own legs off to escape these traps.
The whole thought threatened to send the contents of his stomach all over the walls. Was that really the best option, to lose his foot? Logically, he had lost his foot anyway, even if gangrene didn’t set in his whole ankle had been crushed into uselessness unless he could get to a hospital within a few hours. He didn’t have any sharp objects on him to cut it loose, he’d already been stripped of his knife and gun. The bear trap had also been carefully prepared to make sure he couldn’t use it to get loose.
Gritting his teeth, he hobbled his good leg closer to the trap. Standing up, he braced both hands around his calf and pulled on his leg as hard as he could. Thankfully he didn’t feel any pain as his flesh tore slowly around the dulled edges, as blackness soon swarmed his vision and he passed out.
Waking up was once again even more unpleasant than his situation. One minute he was back in the caring arms of his husband, who was sweetly telling him that everything would be fine. The next, he was in complete agony with his leg caught in a bear trap. A bear trap. Actually, the pain wasn’t so bad this time around. Curious, he edged closed to the trap and his trapped ankle to inspect it. Most of the torn flesh around the jaws had healed, and there was scar tissue over the edge of the teeth. Yet, not much time had passed, as the blood that was pooled around the trap was still wet, and on touch - warm. There must be a nanite regenerator somewhere under the trap, healing him even as he tried to rip himself free. There was an upside and downside to this: if he passed out, his leg would be healed back up and he would have to do the work all over again. On the upside, if he did manage to get his foot loose, he could simply hold both parts back over the regenerator and he should be able to have his foot back, good as new.
Encouraged by this new development, Duo set to work on getting himself loose. Inspecting the bear trap closer, the whole thing was welded into position so that if he got most of the flesh out around his leg, he wouldn’t have to worry about the bone. There was another problem, however, now he remembered a bit about regeneration units. The nanites in the units would piece together flesh and even create new flesh, but they could create something out of nothing: people on regeneration units had to eat a lot of food so the nanites could process it out of their blood. However, for Duo there was only one thing he could eat: his leg. The thought was enough that he nearly passed out there.
Breathing steadily, Duo removed his shirt and wrapped it tightly around his leg in a tourniquet, pulling it as hard as he possibly could to stop blood flow. Cringing as he did so, Duo lent down to take the first bite out of his leg. He stopped and started many times over, each time not gathering quite enough courage to take that first bite. There was another problem: if he vomited, which was very likely, that would expel everything he currently had in his stomach, so he would have to eat that in addition to his foot. Suddenly he wasn’t feeling so encouraged.
Closing his eyes, he wrapped his teeth around the part of his leg that was in the teeth of the trap. He could taste the faint salty taste of his skin, but more overpowering was the metal. He bit in slowly, his eyes squeezed so tight they hurt, just not nearly as much as his teeth did, digging into his leg and drawing blood that he carefully drank, making sure that he didn’t lose any precious sustenance that could repair his leg. His stomach was rebelling as he ripped the piece of flesh from his leg, carefully swallowing and making sure he caught all of the blood.
Common knowledge has it that human flesh tastes quite like chicken, but for Duo all it tasted like was blood. Blood and ew and horribleness. Before, Duo wasn’t sure what ew tasted like, but now he knew. It tasted like this.
You know I can’t help but worry when you go on missions. I love you too much.
He’d just reassured Trowa, it was a standard mission; we go on them all the time. There was nothing to worry about; I’d be back home before you knew it. Now, lying there, blood dripping from his mouth, he know he could do this. He wasn’t doing this out of his own need to survive; he was doing it for Trowa. He promised Trowa he would be back, and eating his own foot was a small price to pay to be in Trowa’s arms again. Each of his successive mouthfuls, he told himself this. It is for Trowa, I must get back to Trowa. Each time his stomach rebelled, he admonished himself. You can’t fail Trowa.
He was becoming dizzy and nauseous, as much as he loved Trowa he couldn’t ignore his body’s own reactions. As much as he had tried to drink, there was still blood everywhere, all over the floor. His body was going into shock; his mind was disgusted at himself. His stomach was overreacting to trying to digest himself and he was getting a sinking feeling: he knew he was going to lose consciousness soon, and when that happened, all his work would be undone. He grabbed his leg, wrenching his foot as hard as he could. Flesh tore painfully, spraying blood in a stream down the teeth of the horrible device. A bone snapped, his foot was free and he tumbled backwards, hitting the floor with a horrible cry of pain, still clutching at his now amputated leg, spraying blood all over the floor. It was just too much. He quickly passed out.
He woke once again in his prison, Trowa’s voice ringing in his ears before the dream lifted: Come back to me, Duo my love. His foot ached horribly, like someone had crushed it in a bear trap. Oh, wait. Someone had. Oh, wait. His foot. Lurching up in surprise, he saw it there, still attached to his leg, and free of the trap. He had done it. It was horribly mangled, and as he tried to stand up, utterly useless. The regeneration unit had done what it could, but even it could not repair the damage of gnawing through your own leg.
He had gnawed through his leg.
He had bitten off his leg muscle and swallowed it.
Falling to his hands and knees, Duo wretched horribly, vomiting up the contents of his stomach. It was red mostly, all the blood he had drunk, followed by large chunks of what had to be his flesh: he had been too disgusted to chew, and just swallowed them outright. Heaving up the remaining bile, he just stayed there, on his hands and knees, crying. Crying at his situation, at what he had to do. Crying at the horror, at the fact he still wasn’t back in the comforting arms of his husband.
Hobbling to the door, still crying uncontrollably, he started his journey back to his beloved Trowa.