Switching it up a little today by seeing things from a new character's perspective...an alien oc, to be exact! This was actually an idea that I had written down before Whumptober came around, not sure whether I would actually ever getting around to writing it or not, and it came to mind when I saw the theme for today. I did use trope-appreciation-tuesdays for a couple of ideas, too. Hope you enjoy!

Day 11 - Defiance

Warnings: restraints, torture, mild blood, broken bones, referenced child abuse, foster home mention, whipping

"Keepabopatikiluzovatica!"

The furred Yrexan winced, already knowing what this conversation was about, before turning to face his friend. "Yes?"

"Keepa, how goes it with our guest?"

He rubbed his elbow, a nervous tick of his, before bending his knees nonchalantly. "About the same, I suppose."

His friend frowned. "The captain is getting impatient. He wants that information."

"And he'll have it!" Keepa protested. "It's just...well, the creature is stubborn. It does not matter what I do to him, he does not seem to care."

"Well, then, perhaps you should do more. Or perhaps someone else should take over the job."

"I have it under control," Keepa snapped, baring his teeth. "I'm the enforcer of this team, am I not? Just have patience."

He turned and stormed off, heading directly to the prison area of the ship. In truth, he really didn't feel like he had this situation under control. He had joined this band of rogues and thieves under the impression that he'd be strong-arming those who owed them GAC, maybe occasionally giving someone a good beat down if required. He could do that. He was good at it.

What he hadn't expected to be doing was extracting information from a prisoner who happened to be the most stubborn creature he had ever come across. Anyone else, Yrexan or otherwise, would have been spilling out every bit of information they knew by that time.

But not this boy. Not anywhere near it. Reaching his cell, Keepa paused outside and watched for a moment, unnoticed. He was a strange looking creature. Virtually hairless other than the top of his head, where fur grew long and untamed, nothing like the well-kept fur of a Yrexan. And his body was so unnaturally pale, it was as if something had sucked all of the color up into his far too dark eyes and hair. Skinny, too. Far too easy to break...or so Keepa had thought upon first seeing him.

The first day, the boy had been asked very politely to share information on where the rest of his team, the legendary Voltron, was located. They had their hands on one paladin now, yes, and his lion, too, but Emperor Zarkon - may he reign forever - wanted all of Voltron, and would pay untold riches for it. He, of course, had refused to tell them, refused to even speak, in fact. That was not entirely unexpected.

That was when Keepa had taken over. He had given him his classic beat down, complete with plenty of blood pouring from the boy's nose and lip, and possibly a few cracks in his more delicate bones. Any moment now, he had thought, any moment he will beg me to stop, say that he will tell me everything.

But the begging never came. When Keepa finished his work and stood back, the boy had painstakingly levered himself up off the floor, swiped the back of his hand through the stream of blood on his upper lip, and spat out a wad of red-tinged saliva at Keepa's feet.

"Are you ready to talk?" Keepa had demanded.

And the boy had smiled. Smiled, with blood-stained teeth, and huffed a breathy sound that was possibly a laugh. "Griffin's cronies hit a lot harder than you do."

As if Keepa was supposed to have any idea what that meant! He wanted to ask what in the stars a griffin or a crony was, but instead he just stared incredulously, not knowing what to make of this blood-stained creature, before mumbling something like, "I'll be back," and retreating from the room.

The next day he had been a bit more prepared. He repeated the beating, knowing it would hurt even more on an already sore body. The fascinating blue and purple spots that decorated the pale skin from the day before were evidence that the boy was not, in fact, invincible, just apparently more resilient than most. Still, he wasn't nearly as surprised that time when he finished and was spoken to in that casual voice again.

"You know…" The boy didn't bother getting up this time, remaining on his back and staring up at the ceiling. "I had this one foster…whenever I would get into fights at school, I'd always come out on top. But when I got home and he found out I'd been in another fight he'd beat me himself. Couldn't fight back against him. So it didn't really matter how much damage the other kids did, 'cause he was always gonna make it three times worse."

Keepa merely stood and blinked, unmoving, before turning and leaving without a word. Clearly beating was not going to work. That was the message, he supposed, behind the creature's rambling. He'd have to come up with something more...creative.

So the following day, Keepa had marched into the cell with a mission, snatching up the arm that wasn't chained to the wall and holding it tightly at the wrist and elbow.

"Tell me where to find the rest of Voltron, or I will break your arm in two." It sounded very threatening. There was no doubt that he meant what he said.

So he was once again taken aback when the boy laughed aloud. It was a short laugh, and wheezed a bit, no doubt because of his injured chest, but it was a laugh, nonetheless. "That...that's your plan?"

Now Keepa felt he was being ridiculed. Growling, he made good on his word and brought the arm down over his knee. It broke with a loud crack. The boy screamed, doubling over to let out a continuous stream of pained noises through his teeth.

This, he thought, was hopeful. Not once during the two beatings had the creature made a single sound, but this had obviously affected him. Now he would break for sure.

The boy let out one more long moan, then grunted, "Quiznak."

Yes, Keepa wanted to say, tell me, tell me!

"I've officially lost count of how many bones I've broken."

"What?" The response was out his mouth before he could stop it.

The boy straightened, wincing as he did so, and tucked the injured arm gingerly into his abdomen. "It's been so long since I last broke one. I knew how many it was before, but now I've forgotten. I can tell you how many times this particular arm has been broken, though."

"H-how many?"

"This makes three. Once was my fault, I fell out of a tree. The other time was that one foster, you know the one I was telling you about?"

Keepa had left the room before he could go any further. What kind of creature was this? And were all the people of his planet so used to violence?

Now, standing outside the cell on day four, Keepa gathered his determination. He wasn't going to let his previous failures deter him. He would get that information for his captain, no matter what it took. Unlocking the door, he strode confidently into the room, snatching the creature up by his broken arm, which of course elicited a cry of pain. He made swift work of shackling that free hand to the opposite corner, leaving the boy's back toward him.

Retrieving the leather strap that hung at his waist, he readied himself. "All you have to do is tell me the information I seek, and this will stop."

The strap cracked across the boy's shoulders, and he jolted but did not make a sound. Keepa brought it down again, and again. The creature was wearing a black suit of some kind, but he knew that even through that the strap would sting. Soon enough, the fabric couldn't even hold up any longer. It began splitting under each impact, leaving bright red welts behind that stood out against the pale skin. Still the boy stood his ground.

Keepa's arm was growing tired, but his frustration was stronger. He kept going until he drew blood, and still he did not quit. By the time the boy finally slumped forward, collapsing to his knees on the ground, the back of his suit was completely shredded, and criss-crossing bloody lines were everywhere.

Panting, Keepa dropped his arm down by his side, rolling his shoulder a few times. Then he stepped over one of the chains and stooped down to look the creature in the face. Unconscious. Of course he was. All of that, and he still hadn't done any more than grunt.

He unshackled the wrist of the broken arm and allowed the boy to fall the rest of the way to the floor, then leaned against the wall and waited for him to wake. When he did, it was with a groan, and he rolled over as quickly as possible to get off his ruined back.

"Are you ready to talk now?"

Silence. Then a pained, "No."

Keepa nearly shouted in aggravation. "Don't tell me that you've had experience with this, too!"

The boy continued staring at the wall in front of him, talking much quieter than usual. "Would you believe me if I did?"

He couldn't be serious. "Let me guess, this 'foster' that you keep speaking of?"

The creature hummed a little. "No, actually it was a different one. A woman. She was a psychopath." He shifted a bit and grimaced. "Been a while, though. Kinda forgot...how much it hurts."

Standing up straight, Keepa waved his arms in the air. "Yes, it hurts! All of it hurts! I know that you are in pain, you can barely even move. You haven't had anything to eat since you got here, either, so you must be hungry. It's been four days."

"Haven't broken my record yet, then."

Keepa groaned. "My point is, maybe you have experienced all of these things before, but that does not mean that you aren't in pain now. Why do you continue to resist? Why won't you help yourself?"

"Because," the boy growled, suddenly sounding like a completely different creature. He slowly, painfully pushed himself up so that he could level a fierce glare at Keepa. "I don't care about helping myself. I care about protecting my friends. If all those fosters beating the heck out of me couldn't even make me call my social worker, then I can assure you, nothing you can do to me is ever going to make me rat out my friends. Doesn't matter if I have experience with it or not. I won't do it."

For a long moment they just stared at one another. Keepa had never met someone so...so loyal, in his entire career. In his experience, everyone had a breaking point, no matter what they had to give up, and usually they did not have to be pushed very far. But this boy...suddenly he had a distinct feeling that he was telling the absolute truth, and that he never would get anything from him.

Keepabopatikiluzovatica is definitely the longest alien name I've come up with so far haha! I love the reviews, keep 'em coming!