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"I found her. I take her," he says. "And if you don't agree, I'll leave the payment on your dead mother's cunt."
The alphas who were already standing and
slobbering over their plates step in front of the stage, presumably to shield him from me. One grins and takes a long pull from his cigarette. "She goes to the highest bidder."
"I found her," the slaver repeats. "I caught her. I won't let any of you have her."
The other alien scrunches his lips and holds his stare as the slaver silently walks toward him, eventually pushing against his chest.
"This is against the rules," the other alien whispers.
I back into the corner of the stage, hastily searching for a way out. There is none.
The alpha slaver nods. "I don’t give a shit about the rules," he says. "So tell me - what are you going to do about it?"
In a fit of desperate rage, the smoking alien turns and jumps on stage. All of the alphas start to yell. "I will rut her before you can," he says.
Ax, the mysterious alpha slaver pulls out a gun, a Glock-17 with some heavy-metal customization built into the frame. I've never seen anything like it, which leads me to believe he made it himself.
He fires the gun three times. As the smoke subsides, the alien falls near my feet. Blood rushes through the indents of my toes. He’s dead, and Ax is very much alive.
He walks around to the side of the stage. Using the stairs, he walks up and takes my hand, yanking me up into his arms.
"This sopping-wet cunt is mine to seed. If anyone wants to say anything about it, they can answer to my weapon as I shove it up their cock," he bellows.
Pulling me closer, he slides a collar around my neck. He leashes me and walks forward, whispering, "It's okay, baby-girl. They're not going to hurt you."
Should I be satisfied?
Every alien in the room freezes. The alpha slaver throws a wad of money onto the counter of the bar.
"Keep the change."
They eye us as we leave the building. This can’t be the last I will see of the Syndicate, but for now, I have found an owner.
Lucky me.
Thrown into a small craft, I'm taken through the upper edge of the planet’s atmosphere where we zip away from the jungle and fly above a set of snowy mountains. I'm kept chained in the back, but he allows me to look through the window and watch as we leave all familiarity behind for good.
He doesn't stick me with a needle again, but there's nowhere to run. I have lost all hope of escape.
"Almost there," he barks.
His outfit is menacing. Leather straps reach around his shoulders. Spikes protrude from his vest. In the center of his harness are multiple blades, guns, and needles. He keeps a mask over his mouth to cover possible scars. I wonder how much damage he's done to the world.
As we fly, I can make out the large industrial aircrafts that police the sky. He must have turned on a shield to protect us from getting caught. Great.
In the far distance, the crafts sit like monoliths, but every so often, an orange blaze opens up the center of the cannon. It shoots laser rays big enough to take out villages.
The explosions don't phase me like they used to. The sounds are more comforting than they ought to be. And now that he has bought me, I can't think of anything except how I wish to drop bombs all across this fucked up planet. Eliminating the aliens would be a dream.
It’s wrong, I know. But I can’t help the contempt I feel. I have been taken and abused. Sold to the big bad wolf himself. I never hurt anyone, so why are they hurting me?
There were so many of them at the farm. Alien women.
We’re taught not to empathize with them, but I can’t hold scorn for long without thinking of them. I want that facility closed for good, but I’m here, with him.
We've been here for more than a hundred years. We could have stopped the Syndicate activity, but we haven't done shit. We make rules that they circumvent, and what does it lead to? This. Slavery.
