Management Protocol

Paige gives me a cold, expressionless look while Yumi rips my shirt off, and then she removes my pants and boxers, leaving me completely naked. Paige asks, "Did you log his physical state before processing?"

Yumi gives a thin, humorless smile. "Of course I did. He is secured property now, no longer permitted to hide his body from corporate inventory."

The gorgeous redhead looks at me with absolute administrative dominance as she says, "It is a fortunate thing for us that he wasn't flagged for total disposal, or we would have had to discard him."

I can hear them, but my mind is drifting off. Paige locks a heavy steel collar around my neck, and Yumi snaps on sterile latex gloves, pressing her fingers down firmly to inspect my posture without a shred of warmth. She gives a single, sharp administrative slap to my cheek.

The Asian beauty says, "Keep your head down. If you are an obedient unit, you will survive the processing protocols, but you have zero rights here. Now get on all fours, just like the asset you are. We are moving you to containment and discipline quarters."

I do my best to resist, but I cannot fight their commands as I drop to the floor. Accompanied by Paige, they lead me toward the elevators on all fours. As we make the trip, I feel the humiliating weight of getting cold stares from the janitorial and security staff still working in the building.

Yumi reassures me impersonally, "They don't have authorization to touch elite corporate property, so don't worry."

We make it up to one of the top floors, where the muffled sounds of corporate activity fade away into heavy silence. We approach an entrance marked by two massive doors, with Paige walking right beside us to secure the way.

The heavy mahogany door of the penthouse suite clicks shut behind us, locking automatically, and any lingering illusion of personal freedom vanishes instantly. The stark, sterile white walls of the private room reflect a clinical, emotionless luxury that feels worlds away from the offices below.

Yumi orders me up, and I comply. She says, "We won't be here long, inmate. Right now, you cannot disobey us even if you wanted to."

Paige steps in close, her expression detached and businesslike. "You are classified as a restricted asset under direct administrative oversight—nothing more than a prisoner managed by us."

Paige forces me to submit to a mandatory physical scan, her gloved hands gripping my body with clinical severity. Paige stands guard, watching with cold indifference.

Suddenly, a hidden side door clicks open, and a sterile collection tray slides out.

Yumi snaps, "Subject ready. Fill the beaker."

The automated mechanism collects my specimen as I finish under their watchful eyes.

Yumi turns away, issuing her final directives. "You can burn his clothes in the HR office, and also burn all of his clothes in his apartment. Have the movers box the rest of his personal stuff to his new detention residence and donate his furniture."

Before I can even process the total erasure of my old life, I suddenly feel a sharp prick as if a medical needle has injected me, instantly knocking me out.

When I wake up, I am naked with Yumi and Paige on each side of me, my head wedged between them. I try to move my feet and hands, only to notice that I am handcuffed. I manage to look around and see two sides of the room are glass, and outside is...