Branding
The Asset is led to a room. Upon stepping inside, the first thing it sees is a chair. It’s unlike the one it’s used to. The chair is still bolted to the floor, but the arm rests extend behind the chair, shackles to hold the occupant’s arms still. There’s a belt around the middle of it. Again, presumably to hold the occupant in place.
There’s a fire in a fireplace, burning hot and bright. It casts strange shadows around the otherwise dim room. There are two pokers sticking out of it. Tending to the fire is a man. It looks up, seeing a single bulb overhead in the middle of the room. A pipe over the chair, and a drain in the ground, under it. The room smells like burning wood, but also piss and blood.
It takes all this in all the information in a matter of seconds. Licking its dry lips, it’s glad to not be wearing a shirt in the too warm space.
Going complacently, it’s led towards the chair. It doesn’t protest as it’s put in, chest to the back of the chair, and it’s arms are stretched forward and locked in place. It doesn’t react as the other restraints are tightened around it’s waist and it’s legs.
“Why are we doing this again?” The tech locking it in place asks, still pulling on some of the straps.
“It’s being loaned out. Higher ups want it marked as ours in case anyone gets any.. ideas as to how it’s to be used or who it belongs to,” the man by the fireplace says, poking at the coals with one of the pokers.
“And it’s going to just let us do this to it?”
“Of course. It does anything we tell it to. Don’t you, Asset?”
“Ready to comply,” it replies.
“See? It’s fine.”
The men move around behind it. The Asset feels uneasy, being unable to see them. It turns it’s head to see what the man by the fireplace is doing.
Someone cuffs it on the back of the head.
“Eyes forward, Asset.”
It does as it’s told. But it does its best to keep track of them all the same. The men are nervous about something, and that never bodes well. It waits for instruction.
More sounds from the fireplace.
“There we go, it’s ready.”
The tech holds out the rubber mouth guard from the chair.
It allows the tech to put it in its mouth. Maybe this is like the other chair after all.
“Asset, head bowed.” It complies.
It jumps when a cool cloth is run over it’s back, between it’s shoulderblades.
“Stay still.” The Asset tenses, but compiles.
Then pain.
It screams, trying to arch it’s back away. Trying to escape the awful burning. It can smell its flesh burn. Tears run down its face. Someone grabs it by the hair, forcing it’s head forward and down again. It chokes, and waits for it to be over.
An eternity later, it feels the brand peel away from its skin. It shudders and gags again, tears still pouring down it’s face.
They let go of it’s head, but it remains where it is, breathing shallowly.
Cold water pours down over it, and it gasps, the mouth guard falling away. It’s shaking from cold, despite the heat of the room, by the time it stops.
Someone pats at it’s back. When it tries to flinch away, despite having nowhere to go, they hit it on the head again. It’s nothing, compared to the burn, but it stills anyway.
It barely notices when they unstrap it. It can hear the blood rushing in it’s head, and the pounding of its heart.
It cringes, when they grab it and pull it upright. It’s legs threaten to give out. One of the techs holds it by the arm, and it sways.
Someone comes into the room with a bandage, and it takes the asset a minute to realize they want it to hold its arms up so they can wrap it. It does, and they do.
When they try to escort it back, the Asset takes a step and falls. They pull it back into standing. It doesn’t fight when they assist it. They lead it down the hallway, and into a cell with a cot. They drop it onto the cot, and leave it alone.
It carefully lays on its stomach, trying to find a position for it’s arms that pulls the least.
When it finally does, it allows itself to rest.