Page 27 of Reclaimed

My brow furrows. "Huh?"

"Your underwear, Asset," Kelton cuts in.

No shit. I heard him, I just can't fathom why he wants them.

I pluck my panties from the floor and place them into his waiting hand.

"Natural lubrication present," Crawford dictates as he inspects them. "Asset is inherently receptive. Note that under sexual responsiveness."

My jaw tightens.

That's discharge, you medically licensed pervert, not an invitation.

"Stand up here," he directs, pointing to the biometric scanner in front of their workstation. "Legs shoulder width apart, arms at your sides in a relaxed posture."

The scanner hums beneath my feet as I step onto the cool metal surface of the platform, the faint tingle of electricity traveling up my legs.

"Class two," Platt reads from the computer screen. "Slightly underweight with no significant muscle deterioration."

Swiping a hand over his chin, Crawford slowly circles around me, making note of each flaw he finds as his eyes rake over every inch of my naked body.

"Small laceration on the left bicep, a few on each wrist along with friction abrasions. No medical action needed, but have her switched to an antiseptic body wash to prevent the need for costly interventions."

"Left breast appears slightly larger than the right, though the nipples are uniform in color and size."

"Keratosis Pilaris is visible on the upper arms. Do we want to submit for possible cosmetic correction?"

It'd look less angry if you'd let me shower without my hands being bound together and gave me a decent body wash.

My hands curl into fists at my sides.

Breathe Jersey. He probably sits in his mom's basement picking at his butt acne. His opinion doesn't count. None of theirs do.

"Just make note and we'll review non-essential procedures with profit potential at the debriefing," Kelton instructs.

"Uneven shoulders, tilted waist… appears the spine has a slight curvature. Should be able to improve with a basic adjustment."

He pauses on my right side, fingers grazing over the scar on my stomach before turning towards Platt and Kelton. "Is there mention of this scar in her file?"

Platt's fingers fly across the keyboard, eyes narrowing as he reads from the computer screen. "Looks like she was shot by a Repo Man contracted to deliver her seven years ago. At that time she hadn't been flagged as an Asset, let alone labeled for Auction tier, so they only allotted for a field bullet retrieval and wound closure.”

"Well," Kelton starts, adjusting his glasses as he rounds the workstation. "I suppose it could be surgically revised if deemed a necessity for tier classification." Pausing, he leans down as he studies my scar closer. "Though she was previously purchased with the defect."

"If she does get classified as auction tier, her new guardian could request it be revised at the time of ownership transfer," Crawford suggests.

"There are some buyers who like scars," Platt chimes in. "Heck, some of them even carve some themselves."

"Oh yeah," Crawford rushes out, snapping his fingers. "What's his name, Harris? He really loves to whittle his Assets. Remember when his last Asset was in here for reappraisal and his name was carved into her lower stomach?"

"Yeah, there's something wrong with that guy," Platt grumbles, shaking his head.

Kelton murmurs in agreement as he swipes a hand across his chin. "Note the scar, but remove it from the weighted score."

"Yes sir," Platt responds, returning his attention to the computer.

I go somewhere else in my mind, their voices fading to background noise.

"Now, gentleman," Kelton says, folding his arms over his chest as he faces them. "In appraisal, it's always important to consider what lies past the surface. Why some base value around physical appearance and others value physical attributes."