Nameless

Diligent

The hunter's left thigh was still cut open, different sets of muscles on display.

The scientists could not allow cicatrization, so the skin needed to be teased, dosed in solution to delay healing - the edges of the tearings were treated so it wouldn't be impossible to put it together later.

Not surprisingly, the work necessary to keep the specimen in such conditions consisted of hours upon hours of a new daily routine - since the exposed tissue would need constant care.

For those procedures, the Hunter's restraints were at maximum capacity - the staff members were working too close to his paws. Judging by the lack of sensation of any kind from his neck down, the Hunter was quite sure that the oomans could bathe him in acid and he wouldn't feel a thing.

How long would they keep him with his tissue exposed? The same spot was on display for 11 days now, by his account. But how did they keep avoiding him to bleed out? Or his flesh to rot away?

Questions of low to no importance at the present moment. He steadied himself - and directed his focus inwards. He could get through an eternity of this living hell - one breath at a time.

***

Days later, he woke up to his left side stitched, the right opened. The procedure had mentally exhausted him. The incisions mirrored the ones who were previously open to his left side. He suspected it had something to do with preserving his tissues.

Watching the scientists work around him was somewhat enerving.  Coming from a culture rooted in discipline, that valued analytical and practical thinking and a fearless attitude was expected of each individual - the unreasonable fear the staff displayed made him both satisfied and disgusted.

His left arm would be useless until healed, while his right was currently out of commission. Even if he was able to move it, what would he be able to do?

***

Someone was working on his right upper limb - judging by the actions, this person was doing the hygiene to his ravaged arm. The ooman was not new to him, though. For the last 42 days, the same one was tending to his body.

Patching him up so others could use his body again. And again.

The Hunter moved his head slightly to watch it work. There was a pause - the ooman looked up, unsettled by the Hunter's gaze. It gulped with a very audible noise. Almost politely, it kept his head low enough as to not stare at him outwardly, but he knew it was watching him.

Careful, methodic, detail-oriented. Diligent.

Kept a tight routine, this one. And was very methodical about each action. A necessity given the conditions they were submitting the Hunter.

The yautja felt a sudden rush of annoyance.

Diligent watched him like a paranoid hawk since day one, but unlike the rest, it kept close attention to his eyes. It rarely missed when his attention wandered somewhere.

The Hunter didn't want to give away much, nor make this vermin extra careful ( actually, it would be better if all of them simply forgot his mind was active, and very sane) so he decided to focus inwards once more, breathing steadily, in a rhythm that indicated rest or relaxation.

It was not long before he heard the small sounds indicating that the ooman was back at work.

***