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falloutkinkmeme_backup) wrote2018-10-20 09:59 pm
falloutkinkmeme_backup) wrote2018-10-20 09:59 pm
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Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.
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Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (66b/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-05-27 02:34 am (UTC)(link)“Quiet,” the ranger behind them--how did Lucinda miss him? Where did he come from?--says.
“I’m a doctor,” Siri chokes out, panic rising in her throat. “I’ve never killed anyone, please don’t shoot me.”
“I said quiet,” the ranger snaps again. Siri whimpers and goes silent, tucks herself smaller. “Both of you, stand up.”
There are more gunshots in the distance, and the ranger whistles three tones, up and down.
“Up,” he says again, and Siri and Photo scramble to their feet. Siri tugs her bag around in front of her and shields it with her arms.
“Can I get my camera?” Photo asks.
“Give it to me,” the ranger replies. “You can have it after we’re certain it’s not a weapon.”
“Thank you,” Photo replies, goes to pick up her camera. She hands it to the ranger.
“You too, hand over the bag,” the ranger says, points to Siri’s bag. She unloops it from her shoulder and passes it over, tucks her arms across her chest once it’s gone.
There are four more gunshots, and then a three-tone whistle.
“They've got your friend, then.”
“No!” Photo bursts out. “They can’t! The Boss is too-”
“Lucy knows what’s good for her,” Siri replies. Her hands tighten on her shirt, her sweating palms wrinkling the fabric. “Where are you taking us?” she asks the ranger.
“You’ll see,” he replies.
They walk toward the gunshots’ origin.
Lucinda is sitting on the ground, disarmed, her hands on the back of her head. Her mouth is pressed into a thin line, her scarf and coat and armor and sunglasses stripped away, leaving her small and fragile in just her t-shirt and pants and boots, her legs stretched out in front of herself. She has three rangers behind her, their guns drawn. One ranger lies dead on the ground, blood pooling around him, half of his shoulder missing from where the bullet tore through him.
“We have some questions for you, back at base,” the lead ranger says. “You, on the ground--on your feet.”
Lucinda stands, slowly, carefully, not removing her hands from the back of her head.
“They’re both noncombatants,” she says, nods at Siri and Photo. “The tall one is our doctor, and the short one is fifteen years old. All she has is a camera.”
“Right, definitely,” the head ranger replies. “We’ve seen what you folks do to teenagers.”
“They are noncombatants,” Lucinda repeats. “Shit, the Doc’s held a gun all of once in her fucking life and she wasn't any good at it.”
“Quiet,” the lead ranger replies. “Hands behind your back.”
“I’m the only one you want, let them go.”
“I don’t think so.” The head ranger sighs, grimaces. “Now put your hands behind your back.”
Lucinda lowers her hands, twists them behind her back so her wrists are pressed together.
“They are noncombatants.” She stares straight ahead, past Siri and Photo, through the ranger behind them, face set and eyes blank.
“They're Legion,” the head ranger sighs. “And if you’re Legion, we bring you in.”
Lucinda goes first, marches in front of the rangers. She has two guards on her. Siri and Photo are next, their hands left loose after they’re checked over for weapons, two more rangers behind them--one with his gun drawn, the other talking into a hand-held radio, warning his station that they're bringing in three prisoners.