Flashwing was naked. His sensitive protoform exposed for all to oogle over and he lacked the hands to cover his bared array with. What sort of sick twisted game did his new owner have in store for him? He really didn’t want to find out.
Quivering, both due to anxiety and from the slight chill, Flashwing glanced around the room, taking in his new surroundings fully. Wondering what other horrors were in store for him. He was in what appeared to be a normal guestroom, though it didn’t have much in the way of furniture aside from the berth. There were two doors: one he knew had to lead to the rest of the residence…lab…wherever he was. The other…a washroom perhaps?
This confused him.
On the one hand, he was in a normal room, on a comfortable berth. He was in no pain and his optic was fixed. Yet on the other, he was missing his hands and armor plating. Plus, he couldn’t move his jaw at all.
Conflicting details on how he understood this world to work now.
Cautiously and carefully, he got to his feet, feeling a bit chilled without his armor. Since he currently lacked hands, he couldn’t easily keep that blanket on him. Not that he wasn’t used to being a bit cold these days. The cells of the Pound and the sadist place weren’t exactly kept at a comfortable temperature.
He approached one door and attempted to open it. Considering there wasn’t even the slightest of movement from it, he safely assumed it was locked. He felt…relieved. It was another detail that aligned with the ‘norms’ of this cruel world he now lived in. However, it still didn’t resolve the other oddities….
Flashwing moved to the other door, jumping slightly when it automatically opened, revealing a washroom. With some hesitation, he walked in, half expecting the shock collar to go off for passing a forbidden threshold. When no shock came, he took the opportunity to check himself in the washroom mirror.
He looked surprisingly better than what he thought he would. Though, perhaps that was only because his armor was missing. He could see some fresh welds on a few spots on his protoform and, to his distress, he noticed that his wings were missing completely now. Even his minor ones were removed. With all of his armor and wings gone, the only real signs of his previous treatment were on his head.
There had been a large crack that had passed over his right optic, which was now sealed by a weld. His jaw and part of his head was covered by a brace, which completely immobilized said jaw. Sticking out of his intake was a feeding tube. Unfortunately, but not unexpectedly, that fragging shock collar was still around his neck.
More conflicting details. It certainly didn’t sound like repairing him was his new owner’s intent when he bought him! Though he supposed some repairs to ensure he was useful were in order. But just what did his owner want with him?
Then he heard the other door open….