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You looked inside the box, then back up at the security guard’s form. Pure venom fell over your face, twisting a neutral pout you had worn since he walked into your cell as putting two and two together began to add up. You looked anywhere but his face, because it would only piss you off even more to ask for an answer in whatever expression he was wearing.
Before you could speak, he promptly reminded you, “Dr. Easterman…” Hearing his own uncertainty, your eyes snapped up to meet his as he dawdled on with his words, “He wants to see what the reaction will be. For both you, and the asset who will be challenging you in today’s trial.”
“Well, gee. I wonder who on Earth that's gonna be.” You spoke slowly in an attempt not to bellow it out, holding up the light pink dress coupled with sky blue undergarments clipped to it, glaring hard.
It was no use though, and you still rose your voice as you prodded, “Well, what am I, bait for this fuck? You want me to go out there and play Bonnie with Clyde?”
The man quickly assured you, “Nooo, no, [R/N]. The doctor has his reasons, he just doesn’t want to explain them to you until after the trial. Believe me, the compensation will be worth the skin being taken off your nose.” You knew he was talking about the simple fact you were walking out in one piece; your life was the pay for therapy. He then clapped his hands together and shrugged rather easily. “We have a working theory: they won’t kill you if you humor them, compliment the environment and their aesthetics so well, even when you’re caught at any point. You-“
You scoffed at that immediately, and asked, “What’s the compliment, getting my tits sucked then torn to pieces, waiting for someone to come in and hose what's left off the walls? Do you see what this guy does to girls in there?”
His face cracked for a split second, and you huffed as you turned away, “Oh, don’t look at me like that! …I’ll do it, what other choice do I have?” You were laughing now, growing hysterical at the situation as you vented aloud, “Let’s turn into a goddamn dolly for these fucking people. Why not? At least I’ll look cute while that fucking gun goes up m-“
“Miss [L/N],” The man cut you off. A reminder that they did remember your name despite all those records being for the most part scrubbed made you look over at him.
“We are making sure you aren’t dying during this experiment. Per the request of the men upstairs.” He still sounded like he was reading from a script, something he was merely asked to say to quell any tantrums, and you shook your head. Clammed up and hiding the way your eyes were widening as you thumbed over the dress again. “We’ve run these trials on other reagents and prime assets, and they seem to…delude themselves when faced with attire that fits the game of their surroundings. This would be a case of…” He stammered as you looked away from the dress, sliding the box lid back over it, grimacing at the choice of his word. “Matching. Whether it’s their background, color schemes …”
You faced him, ignoring the disdain for a simple question. “Can I wear comfortable shoes, at least?”
“Of course. It’d be cruel to try and get you to navigate without proper footwear if that’s what you need.”
You put a hole in the back of his head with the look you gave it as he turned away, and cleared your throat, “Thank you. I’m glad there’s some bones you want to throw.”
His lack of response made you sneer to yourself.
~
They thought this was a joke. You sat in the shuttle chair; knees pressed together under a wash of pink chiffon and ignoring a lingering stare of the two other reagents you were traveling with.
When you were admitted to Murkoff, all you had asked for was some help. You came in a vulnerable, miserable, and directionless state. Was this what you were expecting for “treatment”? Of course not, but you found the alternatives a little too braindead. It wasn’t like women had a lot of lenience when they were viewed by others as unstable. You’d rather do something with yourself than be left with half of a mind, sitting in some room back at home collecting flies.
So, you did what you always did: made the best of the situation. Wear the stupid fucking dress under a pair of goggles that made you a little top heavy, tuck it all under a bulky rig buckled to your chest when they asked, and keep your plans to survive for a possible future outside of Sinyala.
The recognition of your own warped reality and the lack of a physical end to said survival made you want to start dry heaving against the grate beneath your feet.
“So,” One of the others muttered, “Trying to make us look dingy?” You gave him a desolate glance, but when he chuckled you cracked a smirk yourself. You sighed, “More like a distraction tactic. Easterman’s orders, if you can believe that.”
“Sure can.” The man simply shrugged, making you nod once with a venomous roll of your eyes.
“It’ll work.” The other reagent, a younger woman, quickly mentioned before addressing the elephant in the room: “It’s fuckin’ Barbi, no contest on who he’s gonna see first.”
You rolled your shoulders against the chair, “It’s worth a shot. Let me worry about him, and you two get what’s needed done around the docks, or wherever we’re about to go this time.”
Stepping out of the turnstile, you took it in fast that you had been right. You recoiled in recognition as cold air slapped you in the face, distant foghorns making your head swim. The other two gave you one last nod before going their separate ways; they seemed to understand what the trial was asking for. You weren’t exactly a versed player in POISON THE MEDICINE. If it were PUSH THE SNITCH, or even –
A loud pop of a gun made you freeze, knowing that despite not being too keen, the tasks weren’t for you this time. It was showtime, and so you made sure your hair was fluffed up, a little window between the ESOP’s strap and the hem of the dress just below your sternum were playing peekaboo, then took off yourself.
You ducked inside one of the laboratories after pacing a few rickety wooden strips of dock, eyes peeled as you surveyed the breathtaking sight of bone white bricks sitting on a pusher cart. You turned towards a cabinet and did a quick check of your gear as you listened to some awful gurgle of a woman outside, making sure she kept her distance from the door you had just closed.
“Well, who the fuck do we have here?”
He announced it, making you whip around with an awful expression on your face, recognizing he was in fact talking about you. You backed up slightly as he hobbled forward, sizing you up as his thumb shoved bullets into a cracked open Lupara.
“Ohh, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? Not like the usual trash I find out and about.” He then asked, voice melting slightly but that wolfish smirk still plastered on his face, “We’re gonna have fun, the two of us. Ain’t we?” You blew air out of your mouth in response, boot scraping against the floor as you matched his pace: walking away as he walked towards you, the familiar game that made the flipped-out expression on his face falter slightly.
“What? You gonna run from me?” The muscles in your legs were tense, knees bracing to sprint with each pent up step backwards as you refused to break eye contact. “Don’t be shy now,” The tender croon made your skin crawl as he assured, “We’re just gettin’ warmed up. That sound nice to you, doll? Sounds real nice to me.”
The gun clicked back together as he held its receiving end up to you now. “Besides, where’s rabbit gonna run?”
A yelp settled in your throat, not live enough to escape and bobbing in your throat. Your eyes crossed slightly to see a loose piece of hair settle in your face. You had done your best to keep it tied or pinned back, and the goggles that were fixed to your skull usually did the trick with that as well. Giving the closest open walkway one more check from your peripherals, you then blew upwards. The unimpressed glower on Barbi’s face wasn’t unfounded as the strand settled again, brushing against your cheek.
An honest, simple bout of amusement had never been lost on you – even now. Just like that, you used the wall behind you to push off of, and with your shoulder hitting an open metal cabinet on the way out, you dashed down the corridor straight to your left. The man blinked, then snarled.
“What, d'j- Hey, thought I said you don’t run from me!” Knowing you were well into a position to hide now, to even best him if the cards were played right, he bleated out the final kicker, “WHORE!”
The moment had been cute. He hated how cute he found it, and the fact it worked? Gave you a goddamn window to jump through that might’ve just earned you a seat on the doctors’ laps?
Fuck the others in trial with you. The shills that were working alongside him in this patchwork that barely functioned as one entity to begin with would take care of them just fine, because now this was a personal thing.
You don’t insult him like that. By being cute.
“Who the fuck do you think you are!?”
~
“What do you mean?”
“Just- Do the first part! We got caught up with those fucking Ex-Pops,” The younger reagent had found you, and was rattling off what sounded like a good as gold excuse, “I need to go and help the other guy, 7-8-whatever his code is, but I can’t finish in time before the mules go cold. Just go put the bricks in the cooker.” You blinked at her, and she elaborated, “The cocaine, babe.”
You squinted as she went on, “You don’t even have to poison it! I’ll do that. Just…keep that mafioso fuck away from the mission, alright? I’ve heard him around, too close for comfort to be honest. Thought it was your job to babysit for whatever the hell they put you in that dress for.”
You nodded briskly, unable to argue anymore and sending a bitter glance away from her. You had done a decent amount of it that day anyways; the “night” wasn’t getting any younger, or whatever time of day it was supposed to be out here. The lack of a Sun was making you assume, as you often did when left to these devices.
It wasn’t like Dr. Easterman was going to spell anything out for you to begin with.
Still, after parting once more you fastened your goggles over your eyes and entered another dark drug lab. Finding those surprisingly hefty bricks, taking them through a turnstile, rat in a cage, mouse in a maze… Slicing the bag with your nail, emptying it along the cooker. It was monotonous until you got a little messy with the last part.
Setting the plastic husk down, you saw that you had some of it on your hands. You held one arm out, seeing just how much of it had got on your skin, what it looked like in night vision. It felt itchy, your fingers starting to shake at the sight as they rolled together.
Impulse. Your index moved on its own accord, other fingers curling against your palm as you shoved it into your mouth. Rubbing against your teeth, then your gums as your eyes darted across the high places in the room. Cameras, they’d see you having a little too much fun, getting even more off course.
Did you even care at this point?
“Who’s getting’ caught with their hand in the cookie jar!?” You flinched like vermin getting a light shone on her as a voice came down the hall, clear as day and with perfect sight on you thanks to an open door. How that ragged breathing hadn’t been remarked was past you in the moment, unable to admit it was likely from a distraction.
“Oh, what?” He cocked his head as you turned around sharply, hand immediately falling back down and swallowing. “Don’t think I know what you’re fuckin’ doing,” He pointed to your face, “Rubbing your mouth like that?”
“What are you, a cop?” You asked back, smiling when that made his crooked eye move slightly to look at you head on. It was off-putting because you didn’t know how well both of them had actually worked what with…everything going on with his head, but still you dawdled away from him again as he held the gun up, speaking as fast as you could before he fired it again.
“Quality control. I had to try the product bef-“
“My product!” He corrected you, another shot from a jostling hand dodged with a dive under a table. “My fuckin’ product, you succulent little-” You crawled away from him lunging in an attempt and join you under the table, another word spat out for flavor, “SLUT!”
When you once again were evading him with a leap to two legs, back scraping slightly against the table on your way back up, he fired against the wall in frustration. Bone matter ricocheted right by your head, clipping your ear as your head ducked down while you moved.
“You want more of my product in your mouth!?” He bleated as you held fast to the new wound, baring your teeth into the dark and flipping the goggles up as you stumbled to a lit room, “I’ll give it to ya, sweetness! Get back here!”
You turned around to look back at him. As much as you wished you could just keep going, just hide out the screaming and stray bullets that were getting closer and closer to hitting you to a point of no recovery...the real mission was not lost on you right now, as much as the nerves were starting to settle in your stomach.
“Think this is funny, huh?” He watched you pin a table between the two of you, standing behind the plastic shoulder of a shirtless mannequin. He tried testing different sides to no avail, mirrored footwork matching his dance like a game of tag. “Taunting me like-“
“What?” You cut him off, “Are you gonna say slut again?” The bumps on your arms raised as your fingertips grew numb against the table, merely floating as you clenched slightly. The word was fun to say, and another swing of the business end of the sawed-off gun made you bump up against the wall behind you. Giggling, you turned the corner around the table and he looked ready to throw the weapon at you altogether after a second too long of toying with him.
“I’ll show you a goddamn slut.” You then muttered, dropping your shoulders and letting the top of the dress fall even lower; showing the beginnings of the bright blue satin underneath the ESOP.
With a groan, he drove the table against your hips, making you double over with an arm shooting down to stop it from cold metal digging into you. Still, you adjusted knowingly; it was easier to see down the dress while half doubled over.
“Now we’re talkin’.” You glared up, smiling in more of a grimace than an honest grin, and he leered at you. “You wear all that for me, mommy?” A slight twitch of your upper lip in disgust, you murmured as you watched him gesture with the gun. “Consider it a gift from the big man himself.”
The table suddenly flung up from under you to be clamored aside. The small barrel was against your chin in a love tap that kept you glued to the spot. Furniture clashing against the wall by you, you and him walked back through the room until you were pushed between a metal cabinet and the wall, standing on your toes to try and put some kind of distance between him and you but ultimately backed into a makeshift corner. He closed the gap by barring the arm that wasn’t holding the gun to your chin, a gloved hand slithering by your shoulder as it pressed into the wall right beside you.
He got into your bubble fast, a knee brushing against the front of the dress but not quite digging up for any pleasure or friction and hips nearly lining up with one another. You tutted your chin upwards at him as he continued pushing the hot metal of Lupara against your jaw. The knowledge it could go off at any time made you groan from a tight throat, but once more there was something distracting him.
You knew what, daring to look at him and see his eyes downcast. A shudder in his next breath in made you stare down the bridge of his nose for a beat, scared to even breathe as the eyes trailed up. Seeing each other up close was a luxury for him, a sock in the throat for you as you fidgeted slightly against both the weight of his stare into your eyes and the burn of the metal on your chin.
Realizing the ESOP was not built to support underneath the breasts despite there being a presence there holding up and against the rig made your jaw loosen now, seeing one of his hands were unaccounted for as that smirk came back.
“Oh, that’s nice. Didn’t tell nobody you had this under the usual attire you’re wearin’, huh?” He prodded, and you huffed out a stammer. “I-I…” You swallowed as he continued to paw around at your chest, and you choked out, “I’m only doing it as a distraction, I hope you know that.”
“Distraction, so what?” He suddenly had both hands on you; the gun still pointed at your mouth but now propped against the ESOP so he could use both palms to feel each of your tits. You bared your teeth slightly, hands skittering against the wall behind you as the images from the other rooms – the ones of the mutilated and opened up chests, pliers around the nipples, completely missing areolas from jagged holes in the mammary, crude rips of flesh and skinned like potatoes – it circled into your mind’s forefront, but pure fear and the snap of his impatient tone made you focus back in the present, a hostage for the moment at hand as you clenched your body at his demand.
You looked up to see a pair of glinting goggle lenses in the dark behind the two of you, and quickly murmured back at him, “Yeah? Like what you s-see?”
“Gonna fuck that stutter right out your mouth if you keep it up.” He seethed, and your brows raised as your mouth clamped shut again. He was deterring into something…selfish, unbridled in the way he had started to drool from one corner of his mouth slightly.
“I earned this, now drop the fuckin rig.”
The cooker switching on with a metallic groan made you flinch in his hold, and when he whipped his head around with a shocked noise you wriggled against the wall. His hands fumbled yet again, the gun falling to both of your feet as you bolted forward into the dark.
A furious holler behind you made you dart for the door you had originally ran in from, trying to shake the ghost of his hands’ heat against your body and the older reagent muttering, “We got it, now just run to the shuttle before-“
“Oh no, we’re not done here! Fuckin’ mutts!”
Both his and Barbi’s voices were enough to get you taking off back out towards the docks. You straightened your rig again, the idea of it being all completed except for this final, crucial part of the trial made you let out a scream as you ran. You alerted a grunt out of the corner of your eye, but in a way, it was far less afraid
It might just bash your head, call you dead and fuck off again. There were other possibilities with the prime asset on your tail now.
The garage door that closed the shuttle doors from the rest of the trial space were in your sights, but a catch of your “comfortable” boot against a plank that was slightly elevated from the rest of the dock sent you barreling forward. The older reagent bolted right by you, sliding under the door and struggling to jiggle it up when he was home free for you to join. You watched a reflective metal corner mirror stare from the top of the building as the thrashing sound of metal coupled with footsteps behind your crumpled body made you groan from where you lay on your back in a pitiful display.
“Silly rabbit! Don’t need the others, just you!” Seeing him from upside down made you shake, but even when panicked and pained, you did what you knew would buy you the time you needed. Your legs parted fast, the dress rolling up from your lower legs and pooling at your stomach in a single motion. The light blue panties with garters clipped to your skin-toned pantyhose were on full display in the mirror above the two of you, your head still hanging back to watch those cockeyed blues go right where you wanted.
A giggle left your chest as you felt the other reagent grab your ankle, arms taken out from under you and grabbing your shoulders as you were taken under the door in a single movement.
Up on your feet, you heard the door get thrown all the way up as he made the last dash for any sort of winning – right in your path. Still, the blur of you hitting the turnstile tube, hitting the button – it was only after it turned and you heard your own action of the button slamming, and an infantile wail on the other side that you realized you had passed.
“Gotcha, Barbi.” You sneered to yourself, back pressed into the rounded wall behind you and hands drifting to set against the crown of your head as the blood and thoughts slowed, came back from adrenaline-powered terror and survival instincts.
You had been an inch away from being bested by that…that…
Mutt. Your lips twitched at the word in your head. Not freak, not monster, not … an asset. Wolf, beast; a heaving animal with his grubby paws on your chest, inches away from a nip that wasn’t a skin-crawl, but rather would’ve thrummed up a tingle that made you stop resisting the hold for a heartbeat. The need to wrestle for just a few moments longer before continuing with your plight.
It was the proof you had been looking for. Proof that a matching outfit played into the delusion, played into the game that you knew was active in each asset’s mind after more than enough playtime with each of them. Some more lost in it than others, but even Barbi had his moments despite being what you could tell was at least slightly more lucid than Coyle or Gooseberry.
You shuddered, looking down as the other two reagents were waiting for you on the other side.
“Good job out there, honeypot.” The younger reagent snorted at you, and you could imagine the look on your face as you strode to your seat without any bout of eye contact and scrubbing the words and images still floating around your head.
“You, too.” You replied, pulling your dress down slightly as you sat.
Leaving the shuttle, you looked over at the ‘B’ Rating, and just as you registered it was something above average, the overhead speakers on either side of your pounding temples powered on.
“You performed well. I know that you weren’t exactly excited to test my theory on complimenting be put to the test but look at what it got you. Unattainable charisma folding to your hand. You seemed to enjoy yourself as much as Mr. Barbi did, and that’s what’s important to me. It’s as if you were complimenting me, as well." Your eyes went up to the screen again as he went on, "Happiness, one step closer to what you need out of this life, and what you need out of my help. Both of us were pleased by your work today.”
You pulled on your dress again but ultimately decided that it was better than him telling you that you didn’t try, or that it was all for nothing. Another step into coping with what was being asked of you, sure, but you found that like the dress…
It was all rather comfortable now.