Meat

Capable of carrying more than any human. Strong, stout, and hard to hurt. Never more than a body to fill in where one is needed. Strength supplied in excess and treated like nothing more than meat. He is stared at- prodded and poked. Comments are made on his strength for his size. He is given the jobs to lift- to carry, but just another piece of machinery. Another muscle to serve another function. Just another piece of meat to do as they ask.

He isn't so weak willed. He is soft spoken- nervous. The traits of a bull stand out in his beastial form. His strength is beyond even his own knowledge, but it hasn't kept him from pain. They don't offer him any form of protection or safety gear in his jobs. Wrong steps mean grave injury. At least other workers are usually merciful enough to put him down. He often mutters that dull pain is more common for him. The strain of working all the time exhausts him, and he does not die and return as often as the others, so the pain lingers. He is unsure if he appreciates that- if it makes him feel more human- or if the way his bones sometimes feel like they could buckle under the pressure of all he does is just another thing that reminds him of being a Burden.

Maybe he wants to fight now. Maybe he wants to feel something that isn't dull pain and the occasional sting of fresh return when he injures himself bad enough. Drugs came easy as a way to make his mind swim, and the companies provide them for nothing but additions to his debt. He doesn't think he'll ever escape it, so there's no point avoiding racking up more. He's lost a lot of self esteem. Sees himself as just something to be seen and used and no more. He doesn't... care what people do to him. Doesn't care if its pain, pleasure, or something in between. It doesn't matter. Nothing feels like it matters... But sometimes, with the other Burdens, his ears perk up and a light returns to his eyes. Maybe all he really wants is to be seen- acknowledged. To feel like something real.