Robin To The Rescue
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, then I don't own it.
A/N: For 2021 Whumptober #25 Escape
"This isn't exactly a highlight of my high school experience," The burly men with guns surrounded the battered teen as he slowly became conscious. He took in his assailants and his hands handcuffed behind his back. He had no way to fight or defend himself, even if he stood a chance against the armed mob. He was alone, with no memory of how he came to be in the den of danger. To think he thought high school was going to be dangerous because of the cutthroat social scene. When his best friend got turned into a werewolf he figured his biggest concern would be not being eaten on the full moon. Going up against the new supernatural baddie of the week he could handle but getting kidnapped by hunters was growing old.
"I'm not scared of you bozos," The kid tried to act tough, but the leader just roughly pulled him up and shoved a loaded gun against his back, "Okay, maybe a little."
"Ow," He said from the floor in the heap he fell in when he was thrown into the secure room. He looked around the dark room, trying to find a way to escape or something to use as a weapon. Only to find a crumpled figure in the corner, "Oh, Scott, no, please."
The werewolf was alive but out cold. He couldn't tell much more than that with his hands secured behind his back. All he could hope for was that Scott wasn't slowly dying while he sat uselessly by and let it happen.
"Come on, come on," He chanted under his breath as he fought his bonds. His friend needed him.
"Stiles!" Scott called weakly out in distress as the room filled with the coppery scent of blood, "What are you doing?"
"Just hanging out with new friends," His best friend and pack human answered sarcastically trying to muffle his hiss of pain, "I'm trying to escape the psycho hunters that kidnapped us, the dumbasses."
"But your bleeding," Scott said in bewildered concern as his pained eyes opened to meet his friend's dark eyes. The werewolf was in pain, not being able to move without agony. His vulnerable human friend was in trouble. They both were; if what he said about hunters was true. Who was he kidding, Stiles was usually right. Not that he'd ever admit that to the other boy.
"Yes, Scott," the human said slowly as if talking to a small child, "The blood is helping lubricate the shackles."
"Really?"
Stiles hesitated before admitting, "Mostly I've just rubbed them raw trying to get out."
"Where are we?" Scott asked.
"I don't know where we are or how we got here. It's all a big blank since we were in the woods," Stiles shimmed painfully to sit next to his friend, "I've just met our new hosts; they're assholes.
"Who are they?"
"How am I supposed to know? All hunters look like bastards to me."
Scott whined as he tried to make his body cooperate, so he could get them out of their prison. He was a damn werewolf, he could get them out of this room. A room built by hunters specializing in hunting werewolves. He let his head drop in defeat.
"Hey, don't worry," Stiles leaned his body into his prone one, "I'll get us out of here."
"How?" Scott asked, leaning back into him, taking comfort in the touch of his pack.
"Hey, Spark, remember?" Stiles didn't sound so sure as he didn't expand on his great plan of escape. They sat in silence as they each nursed their hurting bodies in the dark.
The human's brain was working overtime, jumping from plan to idea to obscure supernatural fact trying to focus and figure out how to get the two of them out of their current mess alive. He had definitely missed his last dose of Adderall, being kidnapped for who knew how long.
"You know what, Scotty boy? They were idiots for putting us together," A devious smile spread across Stiles' face as he paced the room once more, "Alone, we'd be helpless."
"But, together we haven't made much progress, either," Scott sat up with a pained grunt.
"That's where you are wrong, my furry friend," Stiles gave a yelp after an unnatural cracking sound signaled the freeing his hands of his bonds.
"Stiles!" Scott wobbled his way to his panting friend's side, inspecting the dislocated thumb, "I thought you got squeamish?"
"Only when it's happening to someone else," Stiles grimaced as Scott popped his appendage back into place with a sickening crack.
"Now what?" Scott couldn't see how Stiles' now free hands would save them.
"I learn from my mistakes," Stiles sat down abruptly, yanking off his shoe for no apparent reason that his friend could see.
"What mistakes?"
"Being kidnapped, of course," Stiles gave a sound of triumph holding up a small item for Scott to see, "I always come prepared."
Scott squinted at it in the dark, "What is it?"
"I had Denton cook me up this little baby."
"What's it do?"
"Just watch," Scott almost felt sorry for what was about to happen to their captors when he saw the dangerous glint in his best friend's eye. He had seen it a handful of times throughout their friendship. Always right before Stiles did something brilliant but incredibly dangerous or stupid. Usually both.
"Hey, guys this is kinky as hell. A little BDSM, a little beastality. Not to mention we're still technically minors. Did I mention my dad's the sheriff?" He shouted through the door as he ticked off their offenses on his fingers, kidnapping, attempted murder, and shackling kids in their secret room screamed of all sorts of no-no behavior. "I mean, I could go on but I think your rap sheet is long enough."
There was one sure thing in the universe if Stiles could talk he could annoy the hell out of anyone. It was a talent he was incredibly proud of. At that moment it worked in their favor as it didn't take long to catch their captors' attention.
As soon as the door cracked open, Stiles chucked the device through the opening. he lunged for the door pulling it closed as he spoke a foreign-sounding phrase. An explosion sounded outside the room as colorful smoke leaked in from under the door. Stiles waited a moment before trying to open the door, it wouldn't open fully. He pushed at it harder to reveal a hallway full of downed hunters.
"Shit," Stiles admired his handy work in awe.
"Don't mess with Robin," Scott laughed, accepting his friend's helping hand. They leaned against each other to remain upright. The wounded helping the wounded out of their would-be prison.
"Damn straight," Stiles agreed as they escaped away into the night, still in one piece, "Let's never hang with them again."