#wru recruitment tactics are dirty

[justplainwhump]

Late Night

Emotionally distressed Tyler doesn't exactly find comfort from his flat mate and friend Tara.

A little in advance for @whumptober day 15 "Emotional Damage" (Lies) and 22 "Pick your Poison".

Part of Making Angel, set after [Sound]. (Tara appeared in [Match] for the first time).

Content / warnings: BBU, discussion of WRU recruitment tactics, alcohol consumption, emotional distress / angst.

It was almost one at night, when he came home. The small apartment building lay in darkness, when Tyler turned the key in the lock as quietly as he could.

He'd showered long tonight at the facility, under scalding hot water, and still he felt dirty. 238 got under his skin, more and more. He'd debated if he could request reassignment, but he couldn't. They'd ask questions, and Tyler didn't have answers. He just had emotions. And he hated them.

There was a bottle of grass vodka in the freezer. He'd bought it from his first WRU paycheck, saved it for special occasions. This wasn't the occasion he'd imagined, but still he felt the desperate need to drink himself to sleep.

He kicked off his shoes and quietly stepped towards the kitchen, careful not to wake his flatmate, until he noticed the small line of light under the kitchen door. He knocked softly, before he stepped in.

"I heard you," Tara said flatly. "You're too hunky to be quiet, Ty."

She tried a shaky grin. If there was one thing Tyler had learned to recognise, it was fake smiles.

"Why are you still up?"

She shrugged. Her ginger hair was a mess, most of it fallen out of her short pony tail, and just as he watched her, she ran a hand through them again. "Shit day. Made pizza and poured me a drink."

She gestured at a half full glass with a dark brown liquid in front of her. Jägermeister, he wagered, given its sweet smell and her slightly glazed over eyes.

"Want some?"

"Got my own." He stepped to the fridge and pulled bis vodka out of the icebox. "What happened?"

Tara ripped off a piece of pizza and folded it up, before taking a bite of it. Tyler watched her with sick fascination, thinking of 238's delicate little pizza pieces, the way he'd taught her to eat, elegant and seductive. He wondered if her old self would have devoured the pizza like Tara did. He wondered, how hard it would be to take all of this away from Tara.

It would be so insanely easy.

He felt sick to his stomach. His hands shook, as he poured himself a vodka.

"You go first." She watched him over the rim of her glass. Her eyes had the same colour as the Jägermeister. The same colour as 238's, too. Had he never realised? Why was he looking at her in this way, now? "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Just work." He shrugged. "You know I can't talk about it much. So, your turn. What happened?"

"Have we..." She bit her lip. "Have I ever talked to you about WRU?"

Tyler almost choked on his drink.

"N... No."

"It's, uh. Well. They're like, this super creepy mega corp. Hands in everything, unlimited power, no morals, all that conspiracy stuff, right?"

Tyler forced himself to nod, voice refusing to work.

"I was working on a story about them."

Tyler stared at her blankly. It was real. It would be real. People would come for her, his own colleagues, and she'd be the next number on their lists. On his. They'd made her a romantic, he thought. She was pretty, and romantics both brought the most money and were handled with the highest discretion.

"You..." He all but croaked. "You really shouldn't."

"Oh yeah?" She cracked a smile. "Well, what do you know, Ty?"

"Nothing." Tyler shook his head. "Please... Please go on." He didn't want her to. He didn't want to know. But he had to.

"My informant was arrested. She uhm. Ran a shelter, for homeless kids. Said WRU 'recruiters' were all but hunting them, telling lies, making promises. Borderline stalking. She tried to do something about it." Tara lifted the Jägermeister bottle, stared at the deer on its label intently. "Now she's gone. I talked to one of the kids. They said there were WRU agents present at the arrest. And when I inquired about her whereabouts I..." She inhaled deeply. "She's not with the police, Ty."

"They took her," he mumbled numbly. "'Course they did."

"I need to -"

"Run," Tyler finished.

"Do something about it." Tara crossed her arms, ignoring what he said. "They can't do this. They can't get away with these methods. I have a lot of material. But you know what I lack? A source inside, to back it up. Small fish would be enough, probably. Just someone ready to talk."

"You think someone would?"

"I don't know. You have friends in shady places, don't you? Maybe someone knows someone who knows someone...?"

"Nope." His answer came fast. Too fast.

Tara raised an eyebrow.

"I... I don't want to get involved."

Fury lit up in Tara's gaze and she slammed her hand on the table. "You know what? That attitude, that's what carries the system. Thinking that, that's... That's like almost as bad as being one of fucking WRU's pet trainers yourself."

"Handlers," Tyler said quietly. "It's handlers. And yeah, maybe I am just as bad as they are." He rose to his feet and picked up his vodka. "I'll be in my room. I'm sorry, Tara. I can't help you. Good night."

[buildingcages]

Box Boy Enrollment, part 2

whew, this got long! part one is here. 

masterpost

(Warnings: dehumanization, objectification, financial coercion, forced nudity (mostly nonsexual), slavery, humans as pets, victim blaming, psychological manipulation, corporal punishment)

The lady behind the desk was plump, comfortably middle aged with little gold glasses on a chain around her neck. She smiled brilliantly at him as he came in, gesturing to the chair across from hers. 

"Come on in sweetie, you're here to sign up aren't you?"

"Oh uh. Yeah. Is it that obvious?" He dropped into the chair, feeling embarrassed and transparent. God, but he must look pathetic. "I'm here about the uh, the debt forgiveness program?"

She chuckled. The name plate on her desk read 'Miss Delilah'. "In my line of work you learn to read people, is all. It looks like you've got some paperwork for me hon?"

Nodding, he slid the folder across the desk. The very sympathetic bank manager had given it to him when he suggested he come here. She picked it up and thumbed through the contents with pursed lips. He slid his hands under his thighs to keep himself from fidgeting. 'It's not going to work. She's going to tell you it's too much and you're not worth that much and they can't help you, and you will have humiliated yourself for nothing-'

She snapped the folder shut and smiled at him again. "You're doing the right thing sweetie. I'll just get some forms for you and we'll get you all set up." 

He slumped with relief and she chuckled again, reaching across the desk to ruffle his hair. 

"Aw were you worried? You're a good boy aren't you? You're gonna do just fine." She set a small stack of forms in front of him and then tapped something on her computer screen. "You just fill those out and I'll let the intake boys know to get a space ready for you ok?"

He closed his eyes for a minute. This was the last moment where he could turn back. He picked up the pen. Name, date of birth, medical history, fingerprints. The questionnaire about his sexual history, identity, and attraction gave him pause, but he decided not to think about it and filled it out as fast as he could. He hesitated for a long moment before signing, then pushed the paper back across the desk. His mouth was as dry as the desert he'd driven through on a road trip once. It was done.

The recruitment lady- no, Miss Delilah- looked up from her computer and smiled at him again. She pulled something out of her desk drawer and came around behind him before he could catch a good look at whatever it was. When he tried to twist and look at her she put a hand on his shoulder and he stilled. 

"Easy now sweetie, I'm just putting your collar on you. You understand you're going to have to wear this from now on, right?"

Oh. 

"Oh. Of course. Um. Can I ask. What’s next?" The collar was stiff, high enough that it kept pinching him when he slouched.

"Well just this once, since you've been so good for me. Next, someone will come from intake to bring you up to your temporary quarters, then after a little while you'll be taken to the training facility. Once you're there, they'll start teaching you how to be a good little pet. Won't that be nice?" 

He kind of doubted it would be. 'It's worth it, whatever happens, if this saves everyone else then it's worth it. Be good and maybe they'll go easy on you. Then when they sell you as a companion to some little old rich lady you can run away if she's mean.' He took a deep shaky breath. 

"Ok. Thank you for telling me."

"You can call me Miss, dear. It's important for you to learn how to show respect for your betters, isn't it hon?"

Meek, he reminded himself, you are going to be meek. He made his voice as small as he could.

"Yes, Miss."

While he sat there trying to steady himself, Miss Delilah was bustling around pulling a stack of 3 nested plastic bins out of another drawer. She set them on the desk and smiled again.

"Ok sweetheart go ahead and strip. Clothes in this bin, shoes and belt in this one, personal effects in here." 

He looked around the little office, at the glass door with all the people typing away in their cubicles behind it, at the lack of any clothing visible to replace what he was wearing. 

"Don't pets get clothes, um. Miss?" The question came out a little choked, and he knew he must be as red as a boiled lobster.

"You're not a pet yet honey, you're a trainee. You've got to earn the ability to call yourself a pet, and you do that by being good and doing what you're told. Come on hon, you've been so good, don't make me punish you already!"  

He took another deep breath, the way he’d been taught when he was overwhelmed as a kid. 'Just start with your shoes. You can do this. One thing at a time.' 

He slipped off his worn but comfy boots, and put them in the tray. Then belt and socks. His heavy rings, the leather bands he wore around his wrist. His hands shook so badly taking off his shirt that a button came free and pinged off into the corner somewhere. Miss Delilah made a disapproving "tsk" sound but didn't say anything. Finally he stood there in a collar and boxers. Maybe it would be enough. Miss Delilah raised her eyebrows at him and he knew it wouldn't be. He squeezed his eyes shut and slid them down his hips, setting them in the plastic tub. 

When his shoulders tried to rise defensively the collar bit into him. Miserably, he wrapped his arms around his middle. 

"See? that wasn't so bad was it honey? You just keep doing what you're told like a good boy and you'll be just fine. Now come sit by me--NOT on the chair, good heavens, you can kneel right here, and I'll give you a little something to calm your nerves. I've got a couple other things to set you up with and then you'll be all ready for intake and training." 

He knelt. He felt detached and cold, and like some distant part of him might be screaming, but he fought the prickle of tears behind his eyes and accepted the pill and the little paper cup of water. When he looked up again, Miss Delilah was holding something that looked a lot like those piercing guns you saw at the mall. Something on her computer beeped, and she took a little chip out of its slot and plugged it into the thing in her hand. Then she grabbed his ear, hard, and he flinched back on instinct and fell right over on his back.

"Oh, honey, and you were doing so good too."

 Her voice was sad, and she was reaching for something on her desk. The next thing he knew, the world whited out with pain. He heard a scream he belatedly recognized as his own, tapering off into pained gasps. A shock collar, of course, he should have known he was so stupid-

"Now are you gonna be good for me? Or are you gonna make me do that again?" 

"No, please, I'm sorry," he gasped, trying to coax his limbs to cooperate, "I'll be good Miss I promise." 

"Good boy. Up on your knees now, and hold still." 

He pushed himself up with arms that felt like overcooked noodles. It was a piercing gun after all, and when he raised a hand furtively to touch his ear he found a flat plastic tag like they used to mark livestock. It hurt, but not as much as the shock collar. He thought maybe the little pill she gave him was starting to work, because he felt kind of soft and floaty.

"There, see how much nicer it is when you do what you're told?" She patted his cheek kindly, "Now remember, the money to pay your debts is coming directly from your sale. If you're really good and we don't have to keep paying for extra training we can pay that debt off free and clear, ok? Just keep reminding yourself that this was your choice. Everything that happens to you now is something you signed up for of your own free will."

It was true, and he thought maybe it would make it easier to deal with, if he reminded himself that he’d had some kind of control. It wasn’t like he didn’t know this would be humiliating. He squeezed his eyes shut, and felt the tears sticking in his eyelashes. 

Behind him, he heard the door open. Miss Delilah smiled down at him again, and clipped a lead to one of the rings on his collar. 

"Here's intake now, you're going to be a good boy for them and do everything they say, aren't you?"

He nodded miserably. When he looked over his shoulder he saw two men in white with long batons hanging off their belts. He suspected he didn't want to know what those were for, and he also suspected it wasn't going to matter. Delilah handed one of them the end of his leash. 

"Up, trainee." His voice was sharp, and there was no warmth in it. He got up. It was dawning on him that he was about to be paraded naked in front of a whole office full of people, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

Sure enough, the man holding his leash turned and walked back out the open door without so much as a backward glance. He stumbled and walked quickly to keep up, sure that any delay would be punished. As they passed the cubicles he could see that most of the office workers were ignoring him completely, but one had been watching through the glass door intently. He was smiling slyly, one hand rubbing his trousers under the desk. 

"Eyes forward trainee," the intake man behind him punctuated this by tapping his baton against his captive's turned cheek. It buzzed against his skin, clearly a warning. He snapped his eyes forward and concentrated on walking, trying to ignore the flush he could feel creeping across his chest. 

~*~

Please let me know if I’ve forgotten any warnings! A big thanks to all the folks involved in building this lovely whumptastic sandbox <3