// abuse, violence, trauma
The commander backhands you and sends you sprawling to the floor. It was your own fault, you shouldn’t have spoke out of turn, shouldn’t have tried to correct him, should have known he wasn’t like your other commanders, didn’t need your help. Humans are always right, you should know that. Bad little drone.
You remain on the floor as he continues the briefing, paying you no more mind than he would any other piece of technology in the meeting room. When he moves around the table he steps on your hand. Neither of you say anything as the mechanisms in your finger joints are crushed.
You rise to your feet and return to standing at attention, ignoring your internal damage reports. He takes a moment to glare at you but otherwise pays you no mind. You remain silently at attention, trying to ignore the chill in the pit of the chemical processor. good drone.
The meeting ends after an indeterminable amount of time and the commander immediately rounds on you and shoves you to the ground. Ceramic plates crack and shatter as you stare up at him wide-opticed.
“Thought you’d try and undermine my authority huh?” He says with a dark smile as he kicks you, cracking more plates in your chassis. You try to explain but he silences you with another blow. “Drones aren’t supposed to think, they’re supposed to follow orders.”
Your systems spew an endless list of errors as your commander towers over you. His expression is bored now, you’ve ceased to be entertaining. “Next time I won’t be so lenient,” he says, spitting on you before stalking off. You curl up on yourself and try not to cry.