Mama lifted her head, and smirked at his appearance. She wasn't in the least bit surprised as to his condition. Standing there; shaking and trying to rub the panic sweat off his palms. She doubted that was the only place on him currently sweating. He always was a coward, preferring to hide behind computer screens than actually be in the thick of it. Hell, he even hated normal contact with other humans as far as she could see. The joke about the broom closet was defiantly between the male company of the clan and kept (As was wise) very much away from their bosses attention. The techie would never dare report them to her and they knew that so the chances of the information reaching her, ever, were minute. He suffered in silence because it was safer that way, at least while they were laughing and making mock threats they weren't actually doing it. If he ratted, well, they might do worse.

Images flashed up in his mind. If he's thought one man in one small broom closet sized room was bad, he couldn't imagine a room full of the vile fuckers. He didn't think he'd even survive that kind of abuse, which is why he said nothing. If he was honest he thought Mama knew what her clan members could and did get up too, they were brutes after all. Disgusting, barbaric and immoral individuals, that's what made up the thick of any clan. They were dispensable because they were on mass, but that fact just made them all the more brutal; they did what they wanted. He knew that better than most.

Standing up, mama gestured weakly to her two accompanying brutes to stand to the side. This first moment or two would be hers alone, with her precious little techie boy. He meant something to her, or at least a lot more than her dozen a dime muscle boys. Anyone could be strong and build muscle, but brains and technological skill? No, that wasn't everyone. HE was hers and hers alone. He'd not been touched for months now, they'd started to click onto the fact that he belonged to her, and she was the only one who touched him. They didn't even threaten him anymore, and that was a relief. The little ginger brianiac had become 'off limits'.

"Alex…"

She was the only one who seemed to use his real name, and maybe she was the only one who even knew it, to everyone else he was just 'techie', even while he'd been taking that brute in the broom closet all he'd hear gruffly moaned into his ear was the word 'techie'. He'd never corrected them, he never dared too and Mama had apparently never released his name. Perhaps she liked to keep it to herself, so that when she alone addressed him it seemed so much more…personal. It was, right now, the moment she uttered his real and infrequently used name he held himself, eyes set firmly on the floor. She frightened him like every other member of the clan. He knew where he stood, and although that might be fairly high while he was in his office, as soon as it came to physical presence he was right down on the bottom.

He looked up at her as she approached him and again swallowed in the back of his throat, holding weak eye contact with his boss. She was still pretty even with those scars, and he didn't know why she'd really become what she was. Her teeth were slowly rotting but, for whatever reason, that didn't make her ugly. She was frightening and she was alarming but she was still beautiful and she knew it, that was how she still commanded men; somewhere between the brutal violence she could inspire and the lust she could entice. Lust isn't something he had any more though, after the broom closet. As far as sexuality went he simply forsook it for the sake of survival and, honestly; security. Being raped in a room closet tended to put you off the act for life, and he was no exception. Maybe, one day, if he found himself someone suitable, and by now gender really didn't matter, he'd settle. Until then everyone could stay the fuck away from him.

Mama raised her hand and gently stroked it through thick, lank dark ginger hair. His lack of washing It didn't disgust her, she might even know why he did that. Haircuts weren't cheap unless you did it yourself and she knew he wouldn't trust any of the clan near him with sharp scissors. A hair style was a luxury he wouldn't indulge in, but then she liked that. She liked how flinch-y and easy to manipulate he was.

He however, didn't like it in the slightest but he made no movement to give such impression. You didn't insult your clan leader and that was a moral to live by assuming living was your plan! He just accepted her stroking and kept his eyes down most of time, half in fear and half in respect. She demanded that even from the toughest of her clan; Respect. If you failed to show her that you might as well have just signed your own death warrant. He tilted his head into the stroking actually, almost purring for her. He knew she liked him to do that, liked to feel like his dominant saving grace because it gave her just that much more power over him. Maybe she was his saving grace. Maybe without her he'd have starved by now.

"You called me here."

Was all he could manage in a weak breathe while she was touching him. He didn't mean to sound like he was reminding her, he doubted she needed any reminding. Doubts that were put to even more rest when he grip tightened on him, but he didn't fight, he knew better than to fight even as he was lead over to a chair; a chair that looked a lot like a dental chair if you asked him, but he was turned and sat in it. Was he terrified? Yes. He was still visibly trembling and worst now he was sat here. He glanced around at the room a moment, noting two guys', one tall and tanned and the other white and heavily tattooed. Neither of which he immediately recognised but that didn't mean they weren't familiar with him, because sometimes he was smacked so much he couldn't even tell the sources.

"I did, yes. We have some business to take care of."

That was all she said. All she needed to say as he whimpered, the two men taking either of his arms and holding him down hard, their superior strength easily keeping him restrained on the seat. That was about the time he realized he was in even deeper shit that he'd initially though. She was on him before he had time to whimper, initially hushing him in a motherly soothing manner, thumbs brushing his cheeks before they began to move up; up towards his eyes. He wasn't stupid and he knew roughly what was coming. She'd turned his head a little sharply to face her such then as her thumbs when to his eyes, and he cried out, now struggling with fear. He wasn't stupid and he knew violence.

"No, not my eyes!"

Panic riddled him, but only for the moments just before the agony did as her sharp nailed thumbs tug into his eye sockets and gouged, taking his eyes with them. Blood trickled down his cheeks from the now open wounds of his removed senses and the holes where they'd been gaped painfully. Blinded and on the verge of being sick from pain if he didn't black out first, all he could do was struggle in the hopes of freedom and turn his head. Too late to save his eye sight, too late to stop the sockets from bleeding warmly down his pained cheeks, blood splattered from the initial push. Oh god the pain! He suddenly had no idea where he was, or what he was feeling; the strong grips on his arms were far away from him right now and all he knew was the damp, gaping and aching sting where his vision used to be. What now? What had he done wrong to deserve this? Was he destined to a life on his knees now; Unable to see the abuse coming for him? He had no idea, and right now his future wasn't at the forefront of his mind…actually the ache and potential death was.

He cried out and whimpered but he said nothing more, left there for a few moments to feel what was being done to him. If he had known this was coming he wouldn't have stayed. All he could do right this moment was whimper in agony. Mama said nothing to him, no words of hushing female comfort, no words to state otherwise to his expected impending death. Nothing, he just had to wait, and suffer, and hope what came next wasn't worst. He'd heard some times they'd pulled peoples teeth out, and skinned them. No possible ID for someone with no eyes, no teeth and no prints, and if they did that he'd be…nothing but a skinned pig. He was already nobody even within his clan. He really didn't want to die a nobody; his mother would be so ashamed.

He blacked out again when he felt the metal on the inside of his eye sockets, and that was all he remembered of that, thankfully. They installed those camera eyes, fusing and digging the technology into his nerves, his retinal connections. If he'd been awake for that he probably would have screamed all the louder but his…sensitive disposition cut him some slack, unlike his clan.

When he awoke, he blinked, and that in itself was shocking after a few moments of realisation. You couldn't blink if you had no eyes, but then you couldn't SEE if you had no eyes either and he, in vast unusual detail, could see the ceiling right now. In fact he could see the ceiling better than he was used too. His eyes were still painfully sore, the edges of were aching and complaining of abuse with every blink he took and he could smell the metallic tang of blood on the air; His blood and he knew it. He gave a few more sore blinks and whimpered before he looked around a little, at the walls; He was back in his own little space. If his eyes weren't sore like someone had rubbed chilli's into them he might have thought that was all a very, very bad dream but oh no; He knew otherwise.