Angst *sobs* i haven't thought alot about their lore lately but, i was gonna do cyberverse universe but, meh. Also, They are starting to miss their carrier after sneaking on the lost light. Plus, through all the traumatic experiences :>
*evil cackling* I DID IT FUCKERS I WROTE IT FUCK YES
This takes place the day after Zander’s first successful fight. Which I still haven’t written but we’re working backwards apparently whatever take it please I’m thrilled
CW: pet whump, needle mention, drugging, and branding <3
***
He’d woken up early that morning, his body stiff and aching, more than usual. It took him a while to recall the events of the night before but eventually it came to him, the bright lights and jeering crowd, the caged in ring and the poor guy he’d fought, the poor guy who’s face wasn’t even recognizable by the end of the fight. He felt sick just thinking about it, about the fact he had done that.
He held his hands up above his face, staring at the backs of them. Bruises were painted across his knuckles, there was a deep scratch where he had cut his knuckles on the man’s teeth. It hurt when he flexed his hands, then again, his right hand always hurt. He realized there was blood dried under his fingernails, and with a scowl and a groan of pain, he forced himself to sit up, determined to try and take a long enough shower to wash away everything he did last night.
He felt like he’d been hit by a car as he got up, dragging himself into the bathroom and turning on the shower. He may have won the fight but he didn’t get out of it unscathed, there were bruises and scratches on his face, and he realized bruises covered the rest of his body as he got undressed. He tried not to worry about it though, focusing on getting a shower and taking extra time to clean off any dried blood, be it his or his opponent’s. He wished he’d done this the night before but once the adrenaline wore off he’d been too exhausted to even think about it. The hot water helped to ease the pain a bit at least, but once he was sure he was clean he got out and dried off, having to take extra time to dry his hair. He really needed a haircut, he thought, when he looked in the mirror and saw the fluffy mess.
He had just finished getting dressed when the door to the cell opened, the sound of it causing him to jump and whip around, Cain standing in the doorway and already holding a leash. He was almost disappointed, he was exhausted, he didn’t want to go anywhere.
“Oh good, you’re already up!” Cain said, smiling at him. He was clearly still happy regarding last night's fight, and it was still so odd to Zander that he felt the need to be cautious. “Come on, we need to get going.” He said, stepping into the room.
“Where?” He asked, resisting the urge to take a step back.
“To get your reward. Since you did so well last night I had a reward planned for you.” He said, clipping the leash onto his collar and starting to pull him from the room, not even giving him a chance to get his shoes on.
“What kind of reward?” He hadn't expected to get anything, Cain wasn’t really the gift giving type, but if he was actually getting something out of this arrangement… well, he would certainly be a lot less angry.
“It’s a surprise.” He said plainly, and Zander worried if he pushed it he might change his mind completely. He followed him out of the house, he already had a car waiting to take them somewhere, and he really did seem to be in a good mood so Zander tried to be hopeful about whatever this reward could be.
He didn’t know where they were going but his heart sank when the car stopped and he realized they were exactly where they were the night before. He didn’t want to go back to that facility anytime soon but he tried not to complain. It was early in the morning, there weren’t nearly as many people around when they got down there so it definitely wasn’t another fight, and Cain seemed sure of where they were going as he led him down a narrow hallway lit only by fluorescent lights that he swore would give him a headache in no time. He didn’t know what kind of prize he could get from here, but he was led to one room, and as Cain went to speak to one of the people already there he looked around, and it quickly dawned on him that whatever prize Cain had for him, he did not want.
There was a sterile looking metal table in the room, with straps on it too. The room was noticeably hot, which could be attributed to the contraption on one side with a fire burning in it, countless iron rods with various shapes at the end hung on hooks on the walls. He thought he was going to be sick, Cain was still focused on talking to the person, and he almost felt numb as he raised his hand and unclipped the leash from his collar, not wasting any time on turning on his heel and trying to run.
Unfortunately, they had one of the facility guards at the doorway, the man reminded him of the trainers he’d dealt with when he was first kidnapped. He didn’t even make it out the door before he was grabbed by the arm and yanked away from the door, and when the other two noticed they tried to get ahold of him too, Cain grabbing his other arm. In his struggle he managed to get his arm free from the guard and he wasn’t even thinking when he swung his fist, hitting Cain in the jaw.
“Get the fuck away from me!” He yelled, trying to make a run for the door again. This time he was caught by the hair, dragged back as an arm was hooked around his throat, choking him as he was pulled back towards the table. He locked eyes with Cain who was holding his hand to his jaw, and he certainly wasn’t in a good mood anymore, he looked furious. “Let me go!” He screamed, kicking and thrashing and doing everything he could to get away. In the end it took all three of them to get his shirt ripped over his head and get him on the table, his wrists and ankles strapped down.
He still didn’t stop struggling, desperately fighting against his restraints, he didn’t even hear what they were discussing. Finally, Cain had grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head to the side, one hand in his hair and the other holding his shoulder down so he couldn’t move as much. He couldn’t see what was going on on his other side, all he knew was that he suddenly felt a sharp prick in his neck and Cain finally let go, everything calming down after what they’d done. He was left breathing heavily, still pulling against the restraints while Cain talked to the person who would be carrying this out.
“Fucking mutt, I was trying to get this over with as easily as possible.” He said, sounding irritated.
“They react like this all the time, what I gave him takes effect quickly though. Which side did you say you wanted it on?”
“His right arm, about here.” Cain said, and he must’ve been pointing to a spot on his own arm but Zander couldn’t see as he realized he couldn’t move his head- in fact, he couldn’t move at all. His entire body felt heavy, and no matter how much he told his head to turn or his hand to move he couldn’t, he couldn’t speak or take a breath deep enough to scream, only making the softest, most pathetic whimper in the back of his throat. Somehow that was making it so much worse, he couldn’t move but his chest hurt so bad, a buzzing in the back of his head like static in his brain. He could still move his eyes, looking around the room, but he could mostly just see the ceiling, the bright fluorescent lights nearly blinding him. The fear just kept building up more and more in him and he couldn’t handle it, as though the weight of how scared he felt was crushing his chest and he had no way to get rid of it, it felt like another hundred pounds was added when he realized enough time had passed and they had come to stand at his side.
He could feel their eyes on him, and he could feel a warmth by his bare arm. The lights above him blurred as his eyes filled with tears. He’d tried so hard not to cry but he couldn’t have even tried to stop, just blinking as much as he could so the tears ran down the sides of his face. He would’ve begged if he could’ve, he would’ve done anything to avoid this, but all he could do was whimper as the anticipation continued to kill him, until finally, the branding iron pressed against his arm, the worst pain he’d ever felt searing into his skin.
His breathing picked up as much as it could but he still couldn’t scream, and the smell of burning flesh was making him sick, it was the worst thing he’d ever smelled in his life. He tried to move, to jerk away, to even twitch his fingers and he couldn’t, he was frozen in place, completely still, completely helpless, there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop this and he could only wait it out, as the pressure continued to build up more and more in him.
It felt like hours before the branding iron was pulled away, and slowly the white hot pain dulled more and more until it was completely numb. Somehow that wasn’t much better. The restraints were undone but he still couldn’t move, he didn’t know how long he’d be left like this, and he didn’t know how, when it finally wore off, he’d be expected to get up and just walk away as though all of that had never happened.
***
He wanted to kill Cain afterwards. He wanted to beat the shit out of him, to scream and swear in his face, but somehow, even after the drug had worn off and they were returning home, he stayed completely silent, something Cain was awfully smug about, which only made him more angry.
When he was locked back in his cell he immediately went into the bathroom, his eyes going wide as he looked in the mirror. There, big and clear as day, was the letter ‘C’ burned into his arm, big and noticeable, and permanent, a long lasting reminder of just who he belonged to, marked like an animal, like property. All that anger and fear was still weighing on him, and he numbly walked back into the main part of the cell, collapsing onto his bed and burying his face in his pillow. The blanket rubbed against the fresh wound, and he finally couldn’t handle it anymore, knowing the room was sound proofed and his pillow would muffle the noise as well, he finally allowed himself to scream at the top of his lungs as he broke down sobbing. It was all he could do, there was no way to get rid of the brand, no way to undo what had happened, it was too painful to even cover it, so instead he just screamed until his throat was raw and his voice was shot, laying there curled up and trembling, shaking with all the rage that had built up throughout the ordeal.
Even when he couldn’t cry anymore he didn’t feel any better. He would be stuck with this for the rest of his miserable life, which likely wouldn’t be long if he stayed here. He wasn’t his own person anymore, he wasn’t even a person, he was just a dog, a difficult mutt who would always belong to Cain Whitaker.
