Serving as a prelude to ''The Process', We find Chuck and Griz net yet assimilated, and meet their orcish companion; Gurtog. Currently dealing with a very disgruntled landlord named Mr. Smith, he takes matters into his own hands when he can't get rid of the orc whom he loaths quickly enough. Seeking out a scarred panther by the name of 'Stelward', the proprietor to a very successful, yet very secret business. Gurtog is introduced to him and his assistant, Garvan, just long enough to be let in in the operations...only to have his memory wiped of them shortly thereafter'

~~*~~

"Da day began and da sun wuz shining."

"No, no, no, Gurtog, 'the' not 'Da', it's a ‘the’ sound." A brawny bull by the name of Chuck smiled with stifled laughter as he corrected the Orc.

“You’re very close, Gurtog, your English is so much better." A badger by the name of Griz added encouragingly.

The brutish greenskin by the name of Gurtog scrunched up his brow in consternation, still somewhat struggling with grasping the 'th' sound. He couldn’t quite wrap his tusked lips around it, though he'd made impressive progress with other words he'd mispronounced the concept of 'the' continued to elude him. Griz and Chuck had been doing their best to educate the Orc on linguistics to the best of their capabilities, and it proved at times to be a challenging task. They had no concept on how to properly relate a words proper pronunciation when it was something they'd simply taken for granted until meeting Gurtog.

They’d spent many an afternoon and night tutoring the orc at various places, and currently the trio were assembled in the concrete steps of their apartment complex, and each were fortunate enough to be free from prior obligations such as work or family. So Chuck and Griz had decided to do their best to aid Gurtog in his quest to speak clearer English.

Gurtog was never really bogged down with responsibilities, the Orc not yet having a job and no immediate family that he knew of. As it was orcs were generally looked down upon by the mammal folk and very rarely allowed residence anywhere among them, never mind finding work. With this knowledge most orcs avoided the big cities, instead reimagining in the wilds of the forest. Gurtog however, with no ties to family or clan sought a more urban life, and it was his good fortune to run into perhaps two of the handful of Orc tolerant anthros.

"Try focusing on 'The' alone, I'll show you how to best move your lips and tongue." The brawny bovine suggested, pointing to his muzzle. “Watch what my teeth do, thhh, thhh; see how they rest on my tongue like that?"

Gurtog squinted, leaning closer in his seated position on the steps to watch Chucks example. Feeling he understood, his green face brightened like an excited childs, and he stuck out his tongue, resting his teeth upon it. Unfortunately for the emerald brute, he inadvertently bit down, and rather than achieving the desired sound, he let out a painful yelp, smacking his broad mitts over his tusked maw.

Chuck and Griz made an effort not to laugh at the orcs unfortunate error, for despite the green goliaths rough exterior, they knew him to be a bit on the fragile side emotionally, especially when it came to his speech impediment. To distract himself from the humor he felt at Gurtogs mistake, Chuck placed a hand upon one of the orcs ripped shoulder, smiling reassuringly to him before the Orc became too frustrated.

"Perhaps we should call it a day, old man Smith will be back any moment and you know how much he hates us 'loitering' out here." Chuck suggested, grinning "you did real good though, Tog, you're sounding much better than you used too."

“Yea!” Griz agreed, smiling “Much better than yesterday.”

Though now sporting a sore tongue, the orc beamed at his two friends. “Dankee! Er, I mean Fanks” Gurtog, attempting to correct himself still didn’t quite get it right.

The orc made to get up from his seated position then, pressing the palms of his big hands off the legs of his jeans, barely containing his thick quads. Chuck would spot from the corner of his eye the arrival of the grandiose otter they knew as Mr. Smith just as Gurtog got to his feet, and frowned inwardly, as much as outwardly.

“Shit” The bull hissed beneath his breath.

Griz, having overheard the hushed obscenity, turned to view the arrival of the otter as well. The badger too couldn’t help but curse beneath his breath, knowing just how much the haughty mustelid detested the trio hanging out on the steps of the apartment entrance. Not only that, but the otter had a certain loathing of Gurtog in particular, finding orcs to be a disgusting, despicable race, and doing absolutely nothing to hide his bigotry.

Chuck and Griz hurried their efforts to disperse, Gurtog however, always being somewhat on the slow side, was found to be rather sluggish by comparison of his rushing companions. He didn’t quite register Smiths hatred for him, though he understood the dirty, seething looks the otter gave him quite clearly. He just couldn’t comprehend why the otter didn’t like him, he’d always been very polite and courteous, and such behavior only seemed to make Smith seethe more with revulsion.

Despite their best efforts to escape back into the safety of the building before the otter reached them, Smith had apparently speeded up his approach as well. So just as Chuck had reached for the curved, brass handle of the swinging glass door, Smith was there at the foot of the steps.

“I’ve told you repeatedly not to linger on these steps.” Smith spat angrily, before targeting his gaze dead center on the unwitting Gurtog. “Especially with that thing in your company. He’s not only frightening potential tenants away but lowering the value of the building by at least 50%”

“I’d like to see the numbers of that estimate.” Griz growled through clenched teeth, glaring at the otter.

“Not. Now.” Chuck hissed to the badger in warning, having no desire to get in any sort of confrontation with the otter. He knew he and Griz were behind on their rent again, and bringing down the wrath of an already disgruntled otter wasn’t something he wished to deal with.

Rather than get angry however, Smith smiled coolly at the three “Oh? Well, that can be arranged, along with the eviction papers if you don’t come through with your rent in the next week. “ The idea of kicking the three thorns in his side out seemed to lift his spirits immensely.

“I’ll have the rent by the end of today, Mr. Smith. Forgive me, I lost track of certain funds and didn’t get the amount due in on time, it won’t happen again.” Chuck explained, always being the most level headed of the three at times. He couldn’t deny his anger at the continual hounding entirely; he simply did a better job of concealing it.

The news the rent would indeed arrive as expected seemed to return the otter to his original foul mood. “See that it doesn’t!” He growled, before marching up the steps, shoving Gurtog and the others aside aggressively then as he did so. Then he would wrench open the door, and slam it after himself.

“Always a ray of sunshine, that one.” Chuck remarked, brushing himself off and thankful he’d not been pushed so hard as to fall backwards.

“He’s a ray of something” Griz scowled, glaring after Smith through the glass door as he stomped up the staircase.

“Why duse ‘e ‘ate meeb?” Gurtog asked, somewhat shaken. He always reverted to his more guttural, primitive speech when upset.

“We’ve explained this before, Tog, it’s not you, he’s simply a bitter old, narrow minded bastard with no tolerance for orcs.” Chuck said kindly, patting the big orc on the back. “We’ll find a better place to live free of racist dicks like that soon as we can afford it, I promise.”

“Soon won’t be soon enough.” Griz snorted, crossing his arms impatiently.

“I know.” Chuck agreed “But let’s not worry about it now, I have to get that money together.”

Comforted, though still perplexed, Gurtog nodded, following after the two as they headed inside.

~~*~~

“It can’t wait until next week, I want the orc gone now!”

Smith, having nearly broken off the rotary dial of his phone in his haste to make a call, had been pacing the length of his apartment suite lividly. He nearly tripped over the imported rugs that ran the length of the wooden floorboards in his anger, and had no intention of calming until his demands were met.

Momentary silence followed the otters outburst into the receiving end of the phone, until at last there came a long, drawn out and bored sigh. “You’re exhibiting a certain lack of patience, Mr. Smith, I detest impatience in people, for they try my patience. I don’t like to have my patience tried.”

Taken aback by the dry, emotionless response, Smith lost his voice for a moment. Finding it again took several seconds, and when he did, he attempted to communicate with much more calm. “Forgive me, Mr. Stelward, I’ve simply grown tired of seeing that…despicable beast in my building. I realize we initially agreed on a week from tomorrow, but I need it done sooner than that.”

“I can appreciate your need to be rid of the brute, but I’m afraid a change of date will increase the price we agreed upon immensely.” The hollow voice on the other end replied, still with the same measure of distaste at being disturbed.

Smith took a deep breath, stopping at the end of the Persian rug he’d taken to tromping back and forth upon. He didn’t like the idea of loosing still more money simply to be rid of the green cur, but there was no other alternative. He couldn’t rest comfortably until that monstrous freak was no longer in the same building as he was, and this was his only option to be rid of him. The bovine had been surprisingly persistent at keeping up on rent, even when it was a few days late. He had no other legal course of disposing of the orc, and this was the closest thing to a warranted solution.

“Price isn’t an issue, simply see to his removal from the premises…for good.”

Another impatient sigh. “Very well, this will cut into my resources that were for other matters this evening, but if you insist.”

“I do.” And with that, Smith replaced the phone upon its hook, not bothering to say goodbye, knowing there was no need.

At the other side of the city, Stelward too set the receiver back down upon its base, uncaring of the lack of a courteous parting. Seated in his high back, leather chair, he pressed the tips of each finger from either hand together, turning his gaze towards the shadows that stretched beyond the face of his desk.

“Seems there’s a change of plan on the dealings of tonight, I need some of the soldiers to apprehend the ‘Smith’ orc, can you arrange that, Garvan?”

A behemoth of a half-breed, bull-hyena, sat within the inky blankness at the other end of the room. He would simply nod his big head in affirmation.

“Good, I simply despise being badgered into rushing operations, but I can’t argue an increase of funds for a job however disruptive.” A rare thing appeared on the scarred panthers face then, a slight smile of pleasure.

Garvan returned the slight smile, rising from the chair he’d been seated within, and departing Stelwards office.

~~*~~

In the evening at Smiths apartment complex, Gurtog had been tasked with taking out the trash. The massive steel receptacle was located in an alley at the back of the building, kept relatively tidy despite what it was used for. Gurtog was usually assigned trash duty, or rather he had volunteered for it. He liked doing what little he could for Chuck and Griz, especially since unlike them, he currently was unemployed. It was hard for a greenskin to find work in the city, or anywhere for that matter. Few employers possessed the desire to hire what were deemed intrusive and unwanted foreigners, and there were no laws in place to prevent them from being discriminate. There were even fewer orcs who were trained in desirable skills for potential bosses, and Gurtog was painfully aware he was one such Orc. Griz and Chuck didn't seem too concerned with the orcs lacking work, they knew he wasn't lazy and never pressured him into employment, something that Gurtog was very thankful for. They did promise to help him find one at one point however whenever they could find the time and after improving on his dialect a little more.

Reaching the giant trash bin, Gurtog would effortlessly toss the trash bag inside. Humming to himself, he clapped the dust from his big hands and made his way back to the apartment building. Upon turning around however, the Orc would find his path blocked by two hulking figures. Surprised, the Orc would halt, looking from either figure questioningly, trying to make out their features. In the murky dark of the approaching night, he couldn't make out what they were, but they were easily as big as Gurtog and just as muscular.

Raising a sinewy arm to point in their direction, he managed a slight apologetic, though unsure smile. "'Scuse meeb, you is in my ways."

Neither towering figure replied, staying perfectly still and showing no signs of moving. Gurtog frowned, unsure of what to do; there was only one way back out of the alley as the other end was blocked by yet another building. He didn't wish to shove passed them, recalling how unpleasant it had been when Mr. Smith had done so to him and his companions. He decided to attempt speaking to them again.

"Meeb sorry, I gotta get back tu me place and ya is still in da..."

"Target acquired, showing no resistance." One of the pair spoke then, in a monotone voice lacking any emotion.

A bright, blinding red light would emit from the head of either figure then, and Gurtog, though somewhat blinded by the glare would see that they were both helmeted. Either mechanized looking headpiece had a red visor, which was currently the thing emitting the intense red beams. Obscured as the beings faces were by the headgear, Gurtog could still make out the lower halves of their faces. Their flesh was green, their lips tusked, and both were clean shaven.

"Hey!" Gurtog exclaimed in sudden excitement despite the painful brightness of the light " Ya iz orks just loike..."

Gurtog was suddenly and unexpectedly cut off, as in sync both helmeted drones thrust their fists forward, smashing them right in the poor orcs face. Hard as he was, Gurtog wasn't impervious to facial blows, especially when delivered with such brutal force. The Orc was soon reeling backwards, struggling to remain conscious, and only managing it long enough to feel himself falling backwards, slamming upon the pavement. Gurtogs head snapped backwards, banging the back of his head and causing him to black out completely. The big lug then lay motionless upon the cool smooth asphalt, as the two helmeted figures lowered their arms, almost robotically.

"Target disabled, apprehending now." The second spoke now, in a similarly empty tone.

Each together would reach their arms down, and roughly take a hold of the decommissioned Orc, and none too gently drag him from the alley. Though either could've easily picked the passed out Orc up, neither were programmed to do so, and instead unceremoniously pulled him along the pavement. They would haul him in this fashion until at last reaching a vehicle parked along side of the alley. One of the doors still ajar, they would toss Gurtog into the open portal with no more care than they might show a sack of potatoes. Once inside, both helmeted soldiers would climb into the back seat as well, slamming the door after themselves. The vehicles engine would rev up then, only for the tires to squeal horribly as the car peeled out as fast as it was able, putting as much distance between it and the apartment as it could.

~~*~~


Gurtog wouldn't awaken until several hours later, only to find himself in a wide, empty steel room. Seated upon a cold metal chair, his arms were bound behind his back by heavy interlocking chains. A single light from above cast its lone beam down upon the restrained Orc, who despite returning to conciousness was still having trouble focusing on where he was. His skull throbbed from where it'd struck against the pavement; as well did his back ache from the fall. Blearily he glanced around the room, only to find himself looking upon two partly shadowed shapes. First he believed that they were the two that attacked him, but no, one was bigger than the other... Much bigger. Neither made any move toward the Orc, though the one in front appeared to be examining Gurtog, glinting eyes the only feature of the figure visible.

"Strike him." A voice, colder than the steel that made up the walls of the room instructed of the towering goliath behind him.

As commanded, the giant barreled forth, and before Gurtog could make any word of protest a fist as hard as rock slammed against his right cheek. The unwitting Orc could not only hear, but feel teeth cracking in his mouth, somehow managing to register this through the searing pain of the savage punch.

"Normally I'm not one for such crude practices such as torture, but I'm afraid your existence has disrupted a highly calculated and tight schedule. Since I can't take my frustrations out on the client, you'll have to do." The passionless voice spoke again.

"Want me t' 'it 'im again, boss?" The towering half-breed asked, having turned away from the Orc to address the panther.

"In good time, thank you, Garvan."

"W-why...w-wut me do?" Gurtog questioned through a bloody lip, his expression one if sheer disbelief as well as pain. He'd never done a single wrong in his entire life, certainly nothing to warrant such ruthless abuse.

"Hit him again."

Again, Garvans boulder sizes fist impaled itself on the orcs face, so hard in fact he actually knocked the Orc backwards in his chair.

"I don't enjoy such unpolished, barbaric tongue, so you won't speak unless I allow it." The panther sneered through his heavily mangled features " it's unlikely I'll grant you permission, so you might as well remain silent."

Gurtog moaned in agony, coughing as he tried to catch his breath. He could barely think through the surging pain in his face and back, so even if he wished to speak he could not. Garvan didn't bother to right the toppled chair, knowing Stelward would request it if he desired the Orc returned to the upright position.

"Green hides are such a blight on this society, and despite my best efforts to keep the population in check you still keep popping up. Bringing in more demanding, nagging brainless louts expecting me to deal with their pathetic little problems, processing you into mindless drones for the force just to shut them up!" Stelward was near foaming at the mouth at his sudden buildup of rage, but rather than let himself become too much more enraged, he thrust his cane in the direction at the fallen Orc. "Kick him until I tell you to stop!"

Nodding with an affirming grunt, the bull hyena tromped to the left side of the fallen Gurtog. Before the Orc could even plead in vain for some mercy, Garvan began savagely kicking the Orc in the ribs. Over and over the toe of the bull hyenas heavy leather shoe slammed into the orcs side, showing no signs of slowing. Silently the panther watched as his assitant brutally beat the hapless Orc, until finally he made a gesture signaling him to cease.

"Twenty strikes of pain for each of the twenty instances I've been pressured into eradicating an orcs presence from some simpering fool! I assure you, the sting you feel now is nothing in comparison to the gnawing headaches I have to deal with on a weekly basis."

Were Gurtog in any position to disagree with that assessment, he most certainly would have. His whole body now screamed in misery, his very core feeling as if it were on fire. The intense throbbing feeling in his rib cage almost assured him several if not all of the bones were broken, or at the very least cracked. The sickly metallic taste of blood lingered in his mouth, and his eyes watered from not only the immeasurable pain, but the stinging glare of the light shinning down on him from the ceiling. Strangely, through the barrage of attacks Gurtog had not cried out, not even once. No screams or yells escaped his lips, as if intentionally denying his captors the satisfaction of such vocalized admittance of pain. Truthfully he did not know why he didn't howl in torment, it would've been easy, perhaps even distracting, he just simply didn't wish too.

"Right him." Stelward eventually ordered, nodding towards the Orc.

With just the sole if his shoe, Garvan pressed it against one of the chairs legs, pushing the chair back to its standing position with ease. The bull hyena would then lumber back to stand behind the panther, clasping his big arms behind his back as if at attention.

"Treasure these little moments of feeling discomfort, Orc, for in an hour or so you won't feel anything at all." Stelward turned on his heal, turning his back on the greenskin and making his way to the door.

Close to his heals Garvan followed, holding the door open for his boss until he'd passed through it. He would trudge through soon after, not even granting the Orc a seconds backward glance as he shut the door after himself.

Seated upright, Gurtog watched them depart through swollen red eyes. He exercised his best efforts not to cry, but he was so distraught and still in a great deal of pain. Sorrow and discomfort to this degree had not plagued him since before he sought out life in Grimme city, and up until this point he thought the name was a confusing, inappropriate one. Right off the bat, when Griz and Chuck had found him wondering the streets, half naked and drawing more than a few stares from those passing by, he'd been shown nothing but kindness. Everyone else had been rude and cold to some degree, but not them. With all his might he wished they'd come through the door; take him away from this horrible nightmare.

But they didn't.

Instead, a sudden unfamiliar whoosh of a concealed hatch in the floor would open. From it would rise, floating of its own will, a helmet, much like those worn by the orcs who'd apprehended him. The thing would hover closer to Gurtog, who, already trembling from the pain wracking his body would shiver still more in anxiety. Much as the helmets affixed to the orcs in the alleyways visor had lit up, this ones did so too. It's red beam shinning upon Gurtogs fear stricken features, illuminating them with deep crimson glow.

"Meeb not wan' be loike those other orkies! Please, no, meeb nub bad, me a good ork! Me a good ork!" Gurtog pleaded, stretching his head backwards in an attempt to evade the approaching helmets advance.

Deaf to the orcs pleas, the helmet piteously drew closer, gliding upwards until it was positioned right above the orcs head. Struggle and twitching and jerking as he did in an attempt to keep his head away from the helmets path, it was no use. With lightning like speed it followed the orcs movements, until at last dropping downwards and impaling itself on Gurtogs head.

Finally Gurtog found himself yelling, for the searing electric volts that surged into his cranium expected nothing less. He yanked and fought against the chains binding him, rocking the chair violently back and forth, and almost toppling over again. The Orc screamed and screamed until his voice became hoarse, until suddenly he just stopped, becoming silent, still. His face, once contorted in agony became slack, relaxed, and motionless. In fact the whole orcs body became limp, as if it had been turned to putty.

"Subject 129 connected, commencing with reprogramming." Gurtogs lips suddenly moved, but the voice that spoke was a shadow of its former self.

Gurtog sat perfectly still then as the helmet did its work, incorporating the agenda assigned to all subjects into the greenskins skull. Unimportant memories removed, those that could not be were locked away as assignments and commands took their place. Now and again the orcs head might twitch, his lip spasm, but for the majority of the helmets work he remained motionless, quiet.

He would soon be ready for the enforcers.

~~*~~


"He's planning to have another two subjected to the process, I pray he'll not rush that, I despise being rushed." Stelward said wearily, absently swirling the crimson liquid in his glass. "The price increase was scarcely a worthwhile consolation; I hope it will not happen again."

"Ya can alwayz have 'im put in a nice little latex suit 'n' have his brain fucked with." Garvan suggested, smirking and taking a swig from his whiskey bottle.

Stelward mirrored the smirk, setting his long stem wine glass down upon his desk. "If only that I could, no, I'm afraid besides him and the Enforcers I've little clientele remaining. Fortunately for me the current occupation of law is desperate and loose of morals enough to take what I can give them by way of soldiers with no questions asked."

"'S'damn good business." Garvan remarked with a nod of his head, taking another drink from his bottle.

"I like to think so." Garvan agreed, lifting a leather bound ledger and opening it. Glancing over a few pages he thumbed through he paused at a particular entry. "I have here the eighteenth of October for the apprehension if the bull and badger, is everything in order for that date?"

Garvan simply nodded, in the midst of chugging down the rest if his drink.

" Good. So long as Mr. Smith doesn't interfere with the schedule once again, we'll have yet two more soldiers to push off onto the enforcers and relieve them if their burdensome income." Smiling venomously, Garvan leaned over his desk slightly "And, I'll have that much more control over those who think they're the ones running this crumbling city."

Not really knowing what he meant, but not wishing a lengthy explanation when his skull already felt weighed down, Garvan simply nodded.

"'S'damn good business."

--=*=--

I struggled with this story, I'll confess, didn't go quite as smoothly as the original so I hope it's not too disjointed. There was a lot I wanted to cover without spending an inordinate amount of time on this, as I just don't have it! I hope you enjoy it though, and depending on how well this is received I may continue it.

Commission for;
 raizy thank you for your patience with this.