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“Are you okay?” I lower my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Do you need…”
“How can I help you?” Her tone is sharper this time.
Fine. Apparently, she’s not looking for help. I guess we’ll deal with my problems then.
“So, I accidentally sold myself to multiple mates. Can we please refund everyone so they can stop chasing me to the ends of the universe, tracking me through the nanobots that are…”
“No refunds,” she says, pursing her lips in a way that makes it clear that the fact I’m even asking the question is insulting to her personally.
“Well, there have to be refunds. I just want to give the money in my account back to…”
“No refunds,” she repeats. “If you’re not happy with your purchase…”
“I didn’t purchase anything. I sold myself. Are you listening?”
“How can I help you?” She asks the question with a malevolent little grin. She knows exactly what I am saying, she just doesn’t have any intention of lifting a finger to help me. She has been put in this position of power, but she doesn’t seem to be terribly interested in using it for good.
“What’s your problem, lady? I’m trying to stop some very bad things from happening. All I need is the account numbers, and maybe then you could contact the buyers and let them know that there was some kind of system-wide glitch that allowed the same human to be sold…”
She leans forward across the counter, and for a moment I feel a spark of hope. Women have to help other women. She can’t just let me be pursued and devoured by a small pack of horny alien males, all of whom want to make me exclusively theirs.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have tried to game the system. Maybe these are the consequences of your actions,” she hisses at me with the intense, fiscally-protective malevolence that only ever comes from an employee who has literally no financial stake in a company at all and stands to gain absolutely nothing from saving the corporation a cent.
“The fuck?” I question her attitude, but there’s not really any point because once again, events are overtaking me in a very dramatic way.
SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!
The sound of the plate glass window shattering into a billion pieces does get her attention, as a whirling dervish of scythkin violence comes bursting through in a display that is as dramatic as it is terrifying.
Bits of man-suit hang off the creature, who I know has the intellect of a sentient person, but he looks like the contents of a drug-addled nightmare. He absolutely shines with violence. There is no part of him from which a blade does not extend. Big ones, small ones, smooth ones, serrated ones. He is a living incarnation of a knife, and he is not happy.
“MINE!”
He intones the word with passion, speaking through a mouth of razor sharp teeth set in a shiny maw. It would be sweet, if not for the fact that there is no way he could possibly touch me without turning me into the ingredients for barbecue skewers.
I back up against the counter, holding my hands palms out in a gesture of surrender.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to…”
The creature reaches for me, massive, black shiny hand gripping my wrist in a hold that I know I could never hope to break in a thousand years. It is a great mercy that the blades on his hand have retracted, or he would be slitting my wrist right now.
“I own you,” he says. “You belong to me, Taylor.”
“My name’s not Taylor,” I mumble under my breath. I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore. When faced with a beast like this, there’s no way to fight. I am going to have to submit to whatever he wants.
He drags me out of the office by my wrist. I am forced to trot after him as fast as my legs will take me, back up and out through the broken window. There is glass everywhere, but that is truly the least of my concerns. I’m glad he did some damage to the Owned Mates premises. The company deserves to take some losses for what they’ve done to me. All I did was scam them slightly, and now I’ve been cut off.
Of course, I made them some money too. They took transaction fees from every single one of the sales. I suppose losing all those to refunds doesn’t appeal. Better I get torn apart in some cruel and unusual alien fuck competition than they lose a single cent.
“Uhm, Mister Knives?”
The scythkin stops and looks down at me. “Yes, mate?”
“Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you to…
PING!
