Single post in Pen and Paper - A Writers Clan

“Wow, it’s beautiful.” “Indeed it is. Daresay it’s one of my finest creations.” His world blinks open. For the first time, he sees Master’s face. Feels a gentle touch from solid fingers. He hears his ears and tail whirr to life. Yes. This must be the man who created him. “Master?” And he’s rewarded with a patient smile. “Good dog.” Master turns to the gaunt man behind him. “Brody, go get my treats. We must tame him.” Master turns his attention back to him. “What should I call you…” “I am Max,” Max says. “The stamp says so.” He points to the the metallic window on his chest. Multi-functional Assassin for Xenobiotics. When he runs his finger across the hollow plate, he can feel something inside, giving him energy. “Very good…” murmurs Master, tinkering with the chair that holds him down. The straps around his wrists and ankles break off with a hiss. “Well, then. I shall call you Max. Max, are you ready for your first hunt?” Before he has a chance to answer, a cloth is shoved into his face and he breathes in the scent. It’s warm and distinctly human. A hint of petrichor. His eyes narrow and his lips curl into a half-snarl. Yes, yes. He must capture the fleshling. “Uh, excuse me, sir? Your dog treats…” “Thank you, Brody.” Master takes him outside so he can sniff around for the scent of human. He must crawl on his hands and knees - for what, he does not know why, but it must be protocol for all dogs. When he finds a trail, he wags his tail so that Master knows he’s found a lead. More often than not, though, the trail leads into a river or a lake, where the fleshling had presumably washed themselves off. But Master has crunchy treats that taste like real meat, and he gratefully accepts another hour of searching. After an afternoon of putting his nose to the ground, Master decides to turn in for the night. Max feels relief ebb at his joints, but his stomach complains. He sits on his haunches and licks his lips, observing Master as he eats steak and asparagus. After wiping his lips with a napkin, Master pats the side of his seat and says, “Come here, Max,” and Max comes to him on his hands and knees. He’d learned his lesson that only bad dogs walked on two feet. “I need to show you something very important,” says Master, and he reaches down to pry open the metal plate on Max’s chest. Something hums inside the compartment, and Master takes it out. “This,” he exclaims, “is my proudest achievement, Max. Do you see? This is your heart.” As he speaks, he holds it out for Max to sniff and admire. It is a gorgeous heart. Max has never seen something so beautiful. It has a rich golden color that glistens all different shades of orange and yellow and bronze. Many long wires connect to it, supplying it with a comfortable energy. Max feels pride swell in his chest. He is the owner of this heart. Well, along with Master, of course.