"Hey, you, Thing!" a guard suddenly snaps as I approach the building. I come to a stop, holding off on that lecture I'm interested in. They come to a stop, too, their lips still moving even if they're not speaking. Well, clearly they are if their snickering sneers are anything to go by...
Either or, I've no choice. My claws come together in plain open view. Submission and nervousness before those who need just one justification. No, they don't even have that, all they're looking for are pitiful excuses.
"What do you think? Pat him down?" one of the guards suggests, jabbing me with the end of his gun as he's all too blatant about the bayonet he's just not put on yet. I eye the glinting blade carefully, that slide tugging out more than catching the daylight. More and more join in, prodding and jabbing with armoured fingers and weapon stocks.
One of them snatches away my map of campus and the newstablet thing. He looks them both over and throws them both to the ground. The map flutters down, being nothing more than a piece of enchanted cloth. The tablet shatters, exploding around the path with crumbs and shards everywhere.
"Yeah... I think so. Arms up." the initial guard who came at me demands as the others back off. While their intentions are clear, I still can't help but be confused. Frihdeicalkbr gave me a full rundown of what the guards were going to do to me at the time he was explaining... And what they can do after that point. Not one thing he listed had anything to do with pat-downs or body searches.
"You aren't allowed to do this..." I try to point out, their sneers putting me to a stop. Their laughter keeps my jaw tight, and one rears back. A gun strikes my jaw, the hefty weight carrying the guard onwards. No noise escapes me, and I move a claw up to rub my jaw, only getting another blow for the trouble.
I find my footing and find myself paralyzed. It's normal to rub a spot that is in pain. Anyone who has ever been hurt knows that. Yet, I know not to move my hands at all and to just take it when they throw it at me. Any efforts to react will just be met with the butt of the stock. Stocks.
"Not allowed to do what? Hm? Got something to say? No? Then SHUT up!" one of them mocks, hueking back a glob of spit and throwing it at my eye. Another comes behind me, striking my back.
"GAH!" I can't help but let out to the chorus of laughter. A pair of them roughly weave under me, dragging me back to my feet. The prodding returns.
An odd sensation wilts away at my mind, they're making me feel like a dead animal. Surrounded by curious kids who know just enough to know their actions have no meaning. No restraint to how hard they can prod. Just so long as they can get something to happen to the corpse... Like blood spilling out or a twitch of the limbs or muscles.
"H- *It* is clean. Now what?" one of the guards says, his disappointment clear and genuine as if it was ever going to be anything else. They can clearly see I have nothing on me and... No, no... I know why.
"What about that littering *It* has just done, can't let *It* get away with that." another sneers, his jabs vibrating across my shell and around my left eye. It keeps on twitching, rebounding all the force they're throwing at me into one little area. Yet... As the anger burns away inside of me, making my body scorching hot...
My mind fills with a simple thought of 'just walk away.'
I try to do just that, going on ahead without the map at all. I can just get another. Just ignore all of it. Just ignore all of-
A gun comes into view, forcing itself right up my mouth and opening it up.
"Pick your rubbish up, Thing," the guard holding it says, his hand clearly moving to the trigger as a click rings out. Safety... Off.
He steadily pulls the gun out of my mouth, freeing it up but a small bit, "You put it there..."
"Did we?" one goes.
"Nope, I don't recall it at all." another shrugs, chuckling away as he treats his firearm like an over-slung staff.
"You are an awful liar, you know that, right?" one man says from outside the crowd of guards, setting them off with sniggers and more. A guard steps forward, grabbing me by the scruff of my prison overalls. He violently drags me to the ground, my off-balanced footing giving him a go at my head.
The back of my skull smacks on the stone floor... A crack rings on in my head as I certainly feel a warm cold spread about that area. I try to roll myself onto my front, to put myself on my arms, and they kick me. They collectively kick me the way there, stomping down before I can try to rise.
"Crawl to it and pick it ALL up," one says, his armoured foot shoving me onto my side. Another rushes in, his foot coming in for a goal-scoring kick. Right in my gut.
I coil in at the blow, my shell otherwise doing what it's built to do. It doesn't hurt too much... Not in the slightest... Which can only mean bad news as a lack of reaction will only make them carry on. Though, I have to wonder if they'd even try that trick. They're carrying on regardless... Kicking and kicking and... Stopping.
"Pick it up, *Monster!*" one guard sneers from above, though all of them might as well have said it. My mouth straightens out, and I go along with it. Crawling on my claws and forward-going knees to pick some of it up. One of them walks along the newstablet remains, breaking it down even more with their hefty kicks. A growl nearly escapes me and we keep on moving.
All the way to a tree- A shot blasts a searing gash out of the trunk.
Shivering, a claw goes to my head so I can carefully touch the searing warmth there. My shakes grow, and a hysterical panic affects my breathing. All the uproaring laughter of everyone watching. More shots go off, and burning leaves and branches fall onto me.
Some bits catch on my carapace, and I can only stare at them with wet eyes. No tears, but my eyes are certainly making the threat. Thankfully... Gods above, so thankfully... They're too far away to see my eyes properly.
My expression becomes blank, and I just don't even know what to do anymore...