For my Bad Things Happen Bingo card!

Anon Requested: If I may, can I ask for Hunk and Bound and Gagged?

Yes, you most certainly can! Enjoy!

In the best way Hunk could really describe at the moment, this was not good.

A scratchy material (he was deciding to call it a blindfold) was wrapped around his face, obscuring his vision and sending tiny pinpricks of pain through his skull every time he blinked. His hands were bound behind him with thick rope and judging by the way he couldn't move his ankles apart from each other, he was guessing that his feet were much in the same state. Worst of all, there was something covering his mouth.

It wasn't exactly a muzzle, per-say, as hard metal pieces were mercifully not digging into his face, but it was still very uncomfortable. It was made of the same material as his blindfold, scratchy fabric somewhat forcing its way into Hunk's mouth. He felt the first vestiges of panic then, as he'd heard all too many stories about people asphyxiating when they were gagged because they couldn't clear their airway.

Hunk wasn't quite sure what he was laying on, either, - or how he got here, really - but he was certain that it was hard and cold. It was made of concrete and smelled like well-worn rock.

Focus, Hunk, he told himself. No panicking. Panicking is how we die faster.

Unfortunately for him, panicking is all his brain wanted to do at the moment. He had nearly all of his motor functions robbed from him, couldn't speak, and everything looked like he was wearing a very thick, very uncomfortable, pair of sunglasses. It didn't help that he could hear every single labored breath like it was bass-boosted in his ears.

Oh, he was so screwed.

With enormous effort, Hunk rolled himself over once, only to kick something very hard. The noise of his shoe colliding with it made a metallic clang echo ominously through the room. Wincing from the pain that shot through his foot, Hunk moved it to try and find out what it was, when his foot slid through a gap in-between two of the metal objects.

Bars…?

Oh no. Oh no.

Hunk was in a cell, wasn't he? He was totally captured by the Galra, who were going to torture and kill him and-

Whoa, Hunk. Stop and breathe.

Hunk did as the surprisingly rational part of his brain commanded. He sucked in a huge breath, held it, and then released it. After repeating the action a few times, he felt his heart rate subside a little.

Only for it to flare back up a moment later when a nearby door creaked open.

Voices - warbly and sounding almost like someone was trying to talk underwater - echoed down the hallway. Hunk tried not to panic, but his brain seemed to have bypassed all of his 'remain calm' orders and was now sinking inevitably into 'worst panic attack of his entire life'.

The voices paused. Footsteps - oddly squishy sounding - stopped by the bars. Hunk became painfully aware of how close he was to whoever it was feet. He could smell raw sewage and wrinkled his nose, trying not to breathe in too deeply.

"This is it?" The owner of the sewage smell asked. "This is what you claimed to be the best specimen we have?"

"Yes," answered a second voice. It was slightly higher-pitched than the first. Female, perhaps? "Clearly not...ideal, but it is something we haven't seen before."

Hunk tried not to think about what that meant.

"Oh?" Sewage Smell's interest was piqued.

"Look at its shape," said the voice. "Clearly from a far-off solar system we've never seen before."

Something slimy reached in, tossing aside a tuft of Hunk's hair. He shivered, some kind of slime now smeared across the blindfold. He was now sincerely glad that it was there - he wasn't sure he wanted gross slime all over his face.

"He will sell high," the voice promised. "Wrack in thousands, if I were to bet."

Hunk's heart skipped a terrified beat. He was going to what? 'Sell high'? What did that mean?

The answer came to Hunk in the form of the worst epiphany he'd ever had in his entire life.

They were going to sell him. Barter him off like cattle in some kind of black market.

Oh.

Oh no.

He began to squirm, pulling desperately on his bonds. He pushed until his wrists ached in protest, bones creaking under the strains. The ropes held fast, too thick for Hunk to break with brute force alone. He kicked out, hoping to maybe dislodge the ropes on his feet to no avail.

"He has spirit," Sewage Smell said, clearly amused by the display before him. "Perhaps some stronger bonds are in order."

Hunk made a muffled noise of protest without even meaning to. He sucked in a breath through his mouth afterward and immediately regretted it since all he got in his mouth was a thick, scratchy material. He felt like crying while writhing pathetically on the ground in front of two aliens who wanted to sell him.

"Make sure he is subdued by the time the buyers come," said Sewage Smell. "The price you promise will not fare so well if he tries to fight back."

Hunk didn't hear the response. He was awash in his own panic, his heart beating far too fast in his chest. Everything suddenly felt like too much, too much sensory, too much noise, too much everything. He could feel the room getting smaller even if he couldn't see it and-

Breathe. Breathebreathebreathe.

Hunk's sob was muffled. He couldn't hear the aliens anymore - or their squishy footsteps - but granted, he couldn't hear much of anything outside of his blood roaring in his ears. Hot tears burned at his eyes, pain shooting through his skull as the blindfold grabbed ahold of his eyelashes as he blinked and tugged them, catching as he tried desperately not to cry.

This was so, so bad.

The team would come for him, right? They'd have to. Hunk had promised he'd be only two hours at most when he left the Castle to go shopping. It had to have been more than that by now, right?

They'd come, they'd come-

But what if they didn't?

If they didn't, Hunk was going to be left here, probably sold into a mine to work for the rest of his life. Or maybe the Galra would buy him and he'd end up as Zarkon's pet. A Voltron Paladin turned prisoner.

As much as the thought terrified him, Hunk couldn't stand it.

He had to do something.

With even greater effort, he heaved himself over, away from the bars. He kept his hands pinned underneath him (as uncomfortable as it was) and searched the cold concrete for something he could use. Anything to cut the ropes binding him away. He scooted from corner to corner, searching desperately.

There was nothing.

Hunk choked on another sob. The panic returned full force then, hitting him like a punch to the chest. He could hardly breathe as he kept searching the same corner desperately. He tried to focus on his senses, use the method his parents taught him to help calm him down, but it didn't help. Nothing was helping.

Hunk's fingers brushed something cold and hard.

His heart almost jittered to a stop in his chest.

He grasped it, running his thumb over the length of it and cut his finger open on the sharp edge. Through the pinch of pain, Hunk realized what it was.

Metal.

A jagged piece of metal. Rust (or at least Hunk hoped it was rust) flaked off onto his fingers. Despite cutting his finger open on an old piece of metal, Hunk couldn't bring himself to care about the possibility of tetanus right now. He had an out. A way to escape.

He'd never been so relieved in his whole life.

Hunk shifted the metal in his grip, awkwardly twisting his wrist upward to get a better angle on the rope. Praying to every single god he knew of that the aliens were gone, Hunk pressed down on the rope.

It was a slow, painful process. The awkward twisting of his wrist hurt like hell after a bit and his finger stung something fierce, but Hunk couldn't stop. He kept pressing, shifting the sharp metal through his grip as he sawed back and forth, back and forth.

After what felt like hours, Hunk felt the ropes slack. There was a quiet snap and they fell away from his wrists. His gasp was muffled by his gag as his hands went flat on the cold concrete, metal piece pressed in between his palm and the floor. He could have cried from relief.

Flinging himself into an upright position, Hunk clawed at the blindfold. He left angry red trails of his fingernails on his forehead, but he wasn't thinking straight enough to find the knot at the back of his head. As forcefully as he could, he tore the blindfold off of his face.

He blinked twice to get his vision back. Another time to clear it of the blurriness. He let the blindfold hang around his neck, trembling as he stared at the bars that looked back at him. The aliens that were discussing his price were gone, but he could now see across the hallway at the other cell. Another captive was lying on their side, hidden in shadows. They were bound and gagged in the same way Hunk was, but with metal. Reinforced and nailed into their skin. Magenta blood seeped from in between the cracks of the metal.

Hunk's stomach protested. He forced himself to turn away, reaching behind him to undo the knot of his gag.

He gasped in relief as it came off, coughing and spitting the awful taste out of his mouth. He threw it as far away from him as he could, letting it fall into a corner, forgotten.

Hunk reached down, deciding to start with the ropes. He couldn't find the knot, however, and was forced to start sawing through them, too. It was easier this time, since he had his hands free, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. He kept going, despite the soreness in his wrist and the pinch of pain from the cut in his thumb.

He could do this though. He would get out. There was no way in hell he'd ever let himself get sold to anyone - alien or otherwise.

Hunk was nearly halfway through the first set of ropes when he heard the first explosions. They rained down upon the ceiling with thunderous booms that shook the very foundations of the concrete walls. The alien in the cell across from Hunk's shifted. Hunk's heart swelled with hope. He could feel Yellow's presence in the back of his mind growing, roaring in indignation. How dare you take my Paladin! She seemed to be bellowing. How dare you!

A moment later, there were yowls of pain from just beyond the heavy metal door down the corridor. It was kicked open, light from the outside world flooding the hallway.

A familiar figure in blue entered. Brown hair and wide blue eyes.

Hunk never thought he'd be so happy to see Lance.

He held his rifle in hand, the tip of it smoking from repeated use. He scanned the room through his visor, found Hunk, and sprinted toward him.

"Hunk!" He shouted, nearly throwing himself at the bars. " Dios, Hunk!"

"Lance!" Hunk could have sobbed. He probably did, but he didn't care.

" ¿ Estás bien?" Lance all but demanded. Hunk nodded quickly, hot tears pooling into his eyes.

"Y-Yes!" He cried, pulling apart the rest of the ropes on his ankles and standing. He wobbled, vertigo hitting him like a bus, but it passed quickly. He rushed to the bars to look at Lance, who gave him a relieved smile.

"Good," Lance said. "Now…" He paused, looking down at his bayard. He concentrated, the red sniper rifle giving way to the Altean broadsword he'd recently unlocked. "Stand back," he ordered. "I still don't know how to use this thing very well."

Hunk did as he was asked and Lance swung his arm back and sliced through the thick metal bars with one large swing. The sword cut through the metal like it was made of butter and the bars clattered to the ground loudly. Lance sliced again, creating an opening wide enough for Hunk to squeeze through. He awkwardly stepped through the impromptu door and stumbled out into the open hallway. Lance looked nervously down at the blindfold still hanging around Hunk's neck but didn't comment on it. Hunk was grateful.

"Thank you, Lance," Hunk said. "God...I just...I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Die, probably," Lance most likely meant it as a joke, but Hunk knew that in the situation he was just in, it was a very real possibility. He didn't smile. Instead, he looked around the room at the dozens of other cells. Lance followed his gaze, lingering on the alien with the metal embedded into their flesh.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Hunk asked.

Lance nodded once. A smirk was curling across his face. "Jailbreak?"

Hunk turned to the alien with metal in their hands. He was cracking his muscles, ready to deal back a little of what the aliens had done to him. He grinned.

"Jailbreak."

God, I love me some Hunk whump. He's a fantastic character and because of that, we must make him suffer.

I hope you enjoyed this anon, sorry it took so long to get out! The research I took to find the gag I was thinking of was very uncomfortable. No, Google, I don't want BDSM gags, please stop giving me that option.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! It was fun to write (Hunk's POV is always fun to write from) and was fun to think up! Thank you for reading!