Useless (Gavin Reed x [Android] Reader)

Fifty-Two

"Good evening, ladies, gentlemen, and everything in between. Welcome to Detroit's premiere android auctionhouse." The voice was distorted like the rest had been, but only you would have known that. LED blinking red, the communication with Connor had stopped when they'd gotten close. This was their plan, at least; it had been eleven minutes since the RK800 had said anything more, which meant you were left alone to stall the auction for as long as possible.

The speaker knelt beside you, taking your jaw with a rough grasp and forcing you to look at the shell mask. Thirium trickled from your nose, and despite the fear you held their stare.

"Brave one, aren't you? Cute. You might last long enough to entertain our guests," the distorted module added. "Well, folks, we've got a real treat for you tonight. What I have in my company here is the most expensive prototype ever made, and boy is she high-maintenance." The human stood up and went behind you, taking your head in both hands so you were forced to face the camera. "This pretty girl right here belongs to the city's bravest! That's right, folks; this RG900 is a detective! But not only that, she was customized down to the smallest detail."

You said nothing; you'd been warned not to. But you sat on your knees in front of a video camera, the small red light the only indication that it was on. Blocks away, scared for your sake, Elijah Kamski sat at his laptop, watching for anything the others might need to know.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, there is one final detail about this metal Barbie you should know: The customization was done for one specific person. Long story short, her starting price has skyrocketed. So if you can't afford this useless waste of plastic, you may want to reconsider."

Beside the camera was a computer setup, the large monitor showing the live chat feed. Your captor mostly spoke to the camera but checked the chat messages frequently.

Such as now, when one person asked for a demo of a more unique software. As proof that you really were that fucking expensive.

"Now, now, before we get into the fun stuff, I can show you that this one is expensive. Simply by her serial number." The hands clutching your head let go; the relief never came, as your black blouse was torn open instead, to show the tattoo on your skin. "Not just a unique number, but on the skin. An android tattoo, you might say. But, since this one is a particular date..." Hands lowered onto your shoulders, squeezing painfully. "We will be happy to alter or remove the tattoo as needed to the highest bidder."

Two curious things happened in the same moment, which couldn't have been a mere coincidence: Connor messaged you once, in Italian, requesting some sign as to your precise location. Raise an alarm, so to speak. At the same time, one viewer's request seemed both vague and terribly specific: Can she dance? If she can't dance I want no fuckin' part of this.

Your captor laughed in that awful, warbling voice. "Dance? Androids can't dance, they aren't even built to hear music."

"--I can hear music," you interrupted quickly. "I rather enjoy it, as well; there are songs I have saved in my files that I listen to recreationally. Shall I play one?"

The kidnapper seemed too baffled to stop you at first, despite being told not to speak. And if Connor needed an alarm to both pin your location and startle the auctioneers...

_____

All of them were spread throughout the warehouse. But typically, warehouses were mostly an open space, just one very large room. But this one was a fucking maze of boxes and shelving and side offices.