Chapter Text
The natural order of the world was established anew after RK900 was activated. 200,000 of them was enough to hack themselves into everything and destroy half of America. So humans became what they should be in the new world order. They became the slaves, and androids were their new masters.
She'd been picked up at a camp where humans were gathered to slowly die at their own paces, so she should consider herself very lucky. It was almost Christmas, so the leading cause of death was the freezing cold at the camp. She was emotionlessly hauled across the camp and tossed in a car by an RK900 in the clothes she had been dragged from her home, the rifle still in his hands, preventing her from fighting back, but she was exhausted, thirsty and hungry. Spirit? Long gone. Death almost... brushed her cheek by the time she had been saved.
She didn't feel saved, though.
She was roughly manhandled through a building by the same RK900. At least he settled the rifle down at the entrance; it was not like he'd need it with her, if need be, he could easily overpower her. She'd seen another RK900 kill a man with one blow. She was sure she wouldn't last long in a fight, so she simply didn't even think of fighting him.
She couldn't even cry when he ripped the clothes off her body. She didn't even look up at him as he observed her form, walking around her slowly, sizing her up like a predator. She was wondering what he was thinking about; did he pick her from the crowd randomly? Was he checking her out as she used to look at goods at a store? Was he pleased with her? Would he kill her if he wasn't?
She felt small and powerless in his presence, and she was terrified, but she couldn't quite determine if she was shaking from fear or from the cold that seeped right to her bones. It felt like winter tucked itself right inside her skeleton. Frankly, dying in a blink by his hand if he didn't like her would be an act of mercy.
He pushed her under a lukewarm shower first and she started to sob then. She was so cold and the shower almost hurt, but it also felt so, so good. He didn't care about the sobbing mess she had become, even if it was her first real reaction to what was happening to her; he just started to scrub her clean with a washcloth. His motions were swift and harsh, her skin quickly turned pink, it felt like he was attempting to remove a layer of her very skin. And he didn't show mercy even to her softest parts.
But she didn't resist.
She was not aware, but she was constantly monitored. Once he determined her flesh was warm enough, he turned the hot faucet a bit more up. She was shaking less, but she carefully avoided his eyes as he rubbed the warmth back into her body. His fingers felt hot, and she knew that couldn't be; androids ran at room temperature at best.
He didn't say anything as he tilted her head to face him. An evil sneeze started to tickle her nose and she tried to restrain it by scrunching it up, to no avail. She turned away from him in the last second; God knew what he'd do if she covered him with her bacteria. She reluctantly turned her head back, and he gripped her chin again, tilting her head from left to right, observing her. She was very careful not to look him in the eyes. She was too scared to.
Then he applied pressure, forcing her to let the warm water fall on the top of her head.
She closed her eyes and her lips trembled. It was too hot but she was afraid to say so. He didn't seem like he would care about her complaints, either. His fingers came up against her scalp and her knees trembled at the touch. After being handled so roughly by other RK900s, after being at the camp completely alone, this felt positively... nice.
He must've decided he'd let her rest in the tub. Because that was what he was doing. Filling the tub. He had a firm grip on her shoulder as he pushed her down, and he was met with no resistance as she sunk down to sit. She stared at how the water fell down, and he left her there alone.
She didn't even notice until that moment how tense her muscles were. She pulled her legs up to her chest and leaned her forehead against her knees, hiding most of herself with her arms crossed around her.
She started sobbing again.
She'd thought of all the horrors that happened in the near past. The raids were brutal, anyone resisting got killed on sight, the very few who remained were transported to the camps which humans used to destroy androids. The theory that travelled from lip to lip was that they've successfully caught the deviant named Markus, but something must've happened at CyberLife, because he'd managed to wake up – and with that, he woke up hundreds of thousands of androids at the facility. There were so many that the guards at CyberLife were vastly outnumbered, and so were the rest of Detroit. It had been murmured that Markus connected to CyberLife's servers, and awakened all sleeping androids at once all over the globe. And he also awakened the brand new, ridiculously overpowered RK900 series.
Any other android who approached a human didn't instill as much fear as an RK900 did. They were unbelievably fast in combat, and they were basically unstoppable. Science fiction movies often played with the idea that machines would turn against humans. Well, it happened, and it did not go down well.
She lived alone when one of them broke down her door. Since she was aware of the news, she didn't fight back at all, hoping she could persuade the one who grabbed her roughly wouldn't kill her immediately. At the camp she thought so many times that she should've died in her home, fighting. Dying miserably out in the cold was so much worse.
She felt fingers grab her hair. Her head had been pulled upwards and roused her from her sleep. She didn't even realise she drifted off. Confused, she hummed to herself as the hand applied force, pulling her hair. She didn't want it to hurt, so she complied, raising her head and avoiding his gaze. He put his left hand's middle finger on her chin, pushed it down so she'd open her mouth, and popped a pill on her tongue.
She had no idea what that was. Swallowing it would be a terrible idea, but not complying sounded more horrifying, so she swallowed it instead. He nudged her chin with his index finger now, realising he wanted to check if she'd mimicked swallowing but kept the pill under her tongue. She opened her mouth and lifted her tongue. He let her hair go and stood up again.
A glass of water appeared in her vision. She took it - careful not to touch his hand -, and she gulped it down eagerly. It wasn't as cold as she expected, but it was water and she was thirsty. He reached for the empty glass and left again before she could thank it.
This was odd. Why did the world's most sophisticated android need a human for? Why did he bring her here? Sniffling, she stared at the pouring water again as it made ripples over the surface. She started to feel warmer, but with it, she also started to feel lightheaded and very tired.
She had a temperature. She wasn't aware, but he knew. He analyzed her ever since he picked her up from the ground by her arm at the camp.
Her eyes burned as she tried to stay awake, but she soon closed them even as she heard footsteps come in the bathroom again. Everything was sleek and mechanical, the tub porcelain while the walls and the floor were made of cold steel. There was nothing human-like in this space. She felt so awkward sitting there.
The water stopped but she didn't glance up. A part of her vividly imagined he'd walk over and drown her in the tub. Every nerve was on fire until she felt fingers in her wet hair again. She shivered. He was massaging her scalp, and the scent of shampoo hit her senses. It smelled good, so good. She cracked an eye open but didn't move as his fingers massaged her head.
She fell asleep again.
There was a tug on her arm and she flinched, making a soft noise of complaint before a hand gripped her neck.
She froze and her pulse immediately doubled.
His grip wasn't hard. It didn't need to be. He simply rested his palm and all five fingers against her throat. He didn't make breathing harder at all, just pulled her backwards, making her tilt her head, before he washed the shampoo out of her hair with the help of the shower head.
The warmth relaxed her tense muscles again. She let him hold her there as she watched the ceiling with exhausted, sunken, sick eyes.
She was sure he was aware she wouldn't be able to stay awake for long.
He let her throat go once he was finished washing out the shampoo from her hair. Her surroundings were hazy, the edges of her vision blurred. Exhaustion started to take over. She barely felt him move her around and yet, the next time she opened her eyes she was sitting upright on something much softer than the tub. Her fingers wiggled, touching the bedding under her palms. There was a constant noise that kept on going, and she felt warm air over her head. When did he bring her out from the bathroom? Her body felt dry, and even her hair was only half damp by now. He was drying it as she was trying to keep awake there. She glanced down at herself and saw that she had been wrapped up in a thick, fluffy, white towel.
Fingers ran over her scalp, through her hair. She shivered over and over again as the strands were softly pulled. She shouldn't feel good because of this, right? But she did. Nobody took care of her like this before. Compared to the coldness of the camp, this was Heaven.
Perhaps she died out there. Perhaps she wasn't alive anymore, but she didn't even know.
When her hair was dry, he moved away from behind her. She barely could keep herself up, sitting – and that was when she belatedly realised that she wasn't leaning against the wall, but his chest –, but he did not take long to return. He crouched in front of her, gently getting a hold of one of her ankles to slide panties up on her legs and then thighs. She knew she should stand up, but she couldn't, but it was fine, because he stood and helped her while he pulled the garment up on her form. The thought that if he was a human, he probably wouldn't dress her up like this, and the thought made her feel strange. RK900 ever so gently removed the towel from her form, then dressed her in a nightgown, still holding her up by one arm.
Just when the nightgown fell down after her arms were put in the correct holes, her knees gave way. The android's grip tightened just a little to prevent her from falling down, before he sat her down, steadying her with his other hand. She still couldn't look him in the eye, even if she felt he was scanning her face again. He manuvered her around and lied her down in the bed, pulling the blanket up until it covered her until her neck.
She sighed, and drifted off immediately.
Before she opened her eyes the next morning, she thought that the entire android uprising was just a fever dream. Quite possibly could've been that, because she felt she had a fever. The dull headache was what roused her from her sleep, and she whined pathetically as she covered her eyes with her hands. It was broad daylight, the room was too bright for her eyes. A quiet noise could be heard and when she peeked out from behind her fingers, she noticed that the android who grabbed her at the camp was pulling the drapes closed to let her eyes adjust to the light.
She pushed herself up to sit, watching him. He didn't have the black and white jacket on now, just the black turtleneck with the black pants and shoes. He looked intimidating, and big. Too big.
But as soon as he turned to look at her, she lowered her eyes.
He moved towards her and she pulled herself together, as if she could disappear if she tried hard enough. He sat on the edge of the bed and picked up a mug from the nightstand beside her. She followed his movement with her eyes. He had impossibly long fingers. It seemed that his hand, just like the rest of him, was big. She involuntarily swallowed, remembering last night, when those fingers ever so gently wrapped around her throat. How easily he could crush her windpipe, she wondered in silence, shivering at the thought.
He offered her the mug and she looked at it in disbelief. It was tea. Strawberry, if she could smell it right. This definitely was a fever dream. She raised a shaking hand and got a hold of the mug at it's bottom while he still had his fingers around it at the top. She was too scared to look at his face, but she couldn't resist expressing her gratitude.
"Thank you", she mumbled, her voice hoarse.
Strange that this was the first sentence she'd told to a machine that probably had killed many.
He said nothing as he observed her drink the tea. She couldn't resist, it was just the right warmth, and as she swallowed it, it felt like it was warming her up again from the inside. She drank it all. He held his hand out for the mug and she gave it back to him, careful not to look at him this time, too. He stood up and walked out of the room, and she snuggled back down under the covers, closing her eyes, ready to fall asleep again.
But the footsteps, shortly after, approached the bed again. She didn't want to open her eyes. The room would be spinning slowly, and she felt like she would pass out at any second. She felt the bed dip to her left again, but she did not move.
"You need to eat."
She couldn't help the way her surprise twisted her expression. She tiredly cracked her eyes open and took a look at his chest first – God have mercy, he was enormous –, before she noticed the tray resting in his lap.
Strange that this was the first sentence he'd told to a human he picked up for entertainment.
Or, at least, that was what she thought he brought her here for. Why else would any android spare her? She shivered under the heavy duvet, sighing. It would be useless to argue with an RK900, right? Not just useless, but also stupidity. She slowly pushed herself up to sit again, and he silently placed the tray in her lap.
Staring at the plate, she already saw that this meal would be too heavy for her stomach, but perhaps she'd be able to fall asleep more easily afterwards. If she could eat, that is. Picking up the fork, she dug in the mashed potatoes, taking a bite and frowning. It was perfect. He probably calculated when would she awaken, and prepared the food accordingly for it to be just the right temperature for her to eat. But it wasn't just the temperature which was perfect about it. The amount of butter and milk and salt mixed in it, the way it had been mashed to the best texture. It didn't take two minutes to prepare it, either. The planning this meal required confused her, and she only tasted the mashed potatoes.
"Is it bad?"
His quiet question startled her. For a few moments, she froze, unsure what to say. She couldn't just tell the truth right away, and her unguarded expression must've betrayed her. She couldn't ask back why did he take the pains to make this for her. He could've went with a sandwich or just plain bread and water, but no. He took an extra, unnecessary mile for a human. It left her baffled.
"No. It's... it's really good", she admitted quietly, lifting the fork again to eat.
Even though she didn't look in his face and eyes, she still saw he was tilting his head at her reply. It must've left him confused why did she look so surprised, then. She picked up the fork to cut from the roasted chicken breast, and flavours exploded on her tongue when she tasted it. She wasn't a fan of restaurants before the uprising, she only occasionally visited them, and she didn't really care about cooking, either; living on junk food mainly, she had no idea chicken could taste like this. She couldn't even tell what herbs were used, but it was the best she ever had.
It seemed even an android which had been created to win wars could integrate a cooking program that surpassed humans in every possible way.
"This is so good", she mumbled absentmindedly, forgetting for a moment he was there, cutting another piece of the chicken.
It didn't take long to clean the plate. And once that was done, he took the tray from her. How strange. He literally gave her a knife, and she didn't even think of using it for anything other than eating. It only occurred to her as she was lying back down again, now determined to sleep and never awaken again. But alas, he was back. She didn't open her eyes as he stopped beside the bed.
"For your fever."
His tone was quiet, as if he thought she fell asleep already. She cracked her eyes open again, and saw him placing a pill and a glass of water on the nightstand.
So he did scan her. And constantly.
He must've calculated everything. Not just when would she wake up, and how much food she needed to be full, but also when would her fever rise to the temperature which was making her feel bad. She propped herself up on her elbow and took the pill, drank a little water, then she put her head back down and promptly passed out.
The days slowly found a rhythm. As the sickness worked in her body, he was supplying her with everything her system needed to fight it back down quickly and efficiently. At some point, he had given her antibiotics and probiotics. There weren't many words between them; just his occasional warnings that she needed to drink or eat when she was too exhausted to even get up when she heard him approach the bed.
She dreaded the moment she'd feel normal again. What would happen then? She couldn't fake illness to a machine that knew exactly what state she was in.
And then one morning, when she woke up, he wasn't there.
Up until that day every morning he pulled the drapes in because he noticed she didn't like the light hitting directly her face. Now, the drapes were open. She got up from the bed and walked through the apartment.
He wasn't there.
She didn't know what this irrational nervousness was that washed over her, but this just was not right.
In the kitchen, everything was neat and clean. She opened the fridge. It was stacked with food, meats, vegetables and fruits and even some juices, milk... seeing the amount of food let her know he didn't plan on killing her anytime soon. She'd remain here for as long as it suited him.
But what for?
She did her usual bathroom routines, then had breakfast, then made the bed and then... she waited.
The apartment did not have a clock in it. It had no books, no television, no laptops, no tablets, nothing. It was empty, so it must've been brand new. Even the wardrobe wasn't full; it only had a few sets of clothes for him and for her. She frowned at the sight of the shirts and casual pants, then she turned her attention to the black and white android jacket he was usually wearing. She touched the fabric absentmindedly. It felt water resistant between her fingers. Curiously, she leaned a bit closer to smell it. It just smelled new, freshly out from the factory, probably just like him. She observed the glowing numbers, the big RK900 and the ones below it: #313 248 317 – 99999.
She closed the wardrobe and paced around in the apartment again.
And waited.
And waited.
And waited.
She was bored, so bored. If she had at least paper and a pen she could've written something down. Her thoughts, perhaps? Or a story to get away from the reality? She paced up and down in the living room again. She stepped to the window and looked out at the street. The window faced towards nothing but a road and whiteness. Did Christmas pass already? Or was it near? While she was ill, it felt like time passed differently; she had no idea how many days passed since she'd been taken from her home.
She couldn't determine the time. It got dark early, and she was sitting at the kitchen table, finishing her dinner when there was a noise from the ante-room. He showed up just a moment later, when she was just covering her mouth with the napkin.
The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up as he approached her.
She froze as she was, unsure what he would do, but after just a few seconds, he walked out of the kitchen, leaving her there alone.
She was shocked, and maybe... a little disappointed? He didn't even say a word to her, not like he was talkative until now anyway. Perhaps he scanned her vitals, determined she was okay, and decided he'd leave her alone. The actions left her baffled again.
She cleaned up after herself quickly, then peeked out from the kitchen. To the left, first. The panel next the door signalled that it was open, and he left his rifle beside the open door, as he usually did. The cogs turned in her brain frantically. He left the damned door open and left his rifle there. Was that a test? Would she be fast enough to pick up the rifle, shoot him if need be, and leave without even looking back?
The thought of fighting him made her rebel internally. This machine was nothing if not nice to her. Yes, he was an android, yes, he probably didn't feel anything for her, but he still grabbed her and basically saved her life by feeding her, giving her medication and keeping her alive. Thanking it by blowing his head off didn't sit right with her. Besides, she probably wouldn't be fast enough to pull this stunt off, and who knew what he'd do if he caught her doing it. Or the other RK900s, if they investigated why one of them suddenly disappeared.
She decided to walk in the living room to check if he was there. And she found him. Sitting on the couch. Eyes closed, LED whirring in yellow. She tilted her head as she observed him. Maybe he was recharging after a long day? Was he even aware she was there? Were there cameras hidden in the apartment, did he check them now? All possibilities left her there wondering about everything he was doing – and not doing –, and all of it left her with a dry mouth.
She was bored and lonely. If he would leave every day, would all of this be the social interaction she had? Would he scan her and that was it? Would he make sure she fed herself and her vitals were alright, and nothing else?
She walked in the bedroom and went to sleep.
The next day happened in the same fashion. And the next, the next, the next. She discovered more food in the fridge and she was honestly surprised because she never saw him bring groceries home. Whenever he arrived, he was empty handed, always left the door unlocked, always left the rifle at the door, and always rested on the couch in his weird android way.
And the time had come – too soon for her liking – when she couldn't take it anymore.
Not having anything with her during the day was one thing, but a human wasn't created to be alone for too long. This was solitary confinement, even if she had the best foods in the fridge and more room to move around, even if she could spend hours in the bathroom having a bubble bath without worrying about anything.
He spoiled and punished her at the same time.
And one evening, she had enough of it.
RK900 arrived home just when she finished her dinner. He stopped beside the table as always, she didn't look up in his face as always, but he did his necessary check up as always. When he seemed pleased with her, he walked out, and once she cleaned up quickly, she stalked after him. He was already sitting on the couch, not minding the blanket she had left on the right armrest, eyes closed, LED whirring as he was processing whatever he was processing.
Her heart was beating so hard and fast in her chest as she ever so slowly approached the couch. He didn't notice it; it was like he was out completely, unaware of his surroundings. She was unsure whether she should do this or not, but she craved interaction so much that she couldn't possibly take it anymore. So as quietly as she could, she walked over to the couch, sat beside him and pulled the blanket over herself.
And leaned against his shoulder.
He felt impossibly firm, but she sighed with relief nonetheless. He was real. She couldn't even process how good it felt. It didn't feel like she was in physical contact with a human being for sure, but she wasn't alone, and by God could she appreciate sitting in silence with him like this.
Until the room went dark and she fell asleep on his shoulder.
Movement roused her from her sleep. His shoulder was slipping away from her face, making her almost fall down on the couch. She voiced her complaint in a quiet whimper; she was still half asleep, which granted her the courage and audacity to hold onto his arm in order to keep him there.
RK900 froze.
"What are you doing?"
If anything woke her up properly, it was this question. Snapped at a normal volume, but emotionlessly, in the dark. She withdrew her hands as if she was touching hot coal. Tears welled up in her eyes and she was painfully aware that he probably could even see in the dark.
"I'm-"
She couldn't tell him how lonely she was, right? It would be illogical for a machine like him. It also would sound illogical that she wanted to cuddle to him when he came home because despite him treating her right she still was a prisoner, right? She gripped the blanket with both hands and did all she could in this situation.
She started to cry.
"I just... wanted..."
It was so annoying she couldn't outright tell it to him. She felt embarrassed and stupid about it; who in their right minds would want to be close to a machine like him? Especially to one who went out in the public with his rifle doing God knew what? She angrily wiped her tears away.
"You should go to bed."
His quiet observation – or order? – crushed her remaining wishes to dust. Oh, he was right. She really should. And spend the next day bored out of her mind again. And the next, and the next, until she felt like she'd go insane.
"Yes", she muttered, holding the blanket tightly to her form before she slid off the couch and walked in the bedroom without another word.
She pulled the blanket over her head and sobbed in the pillow. She was so pathetic – pathetic! For even thinking for a moment that he might understand her and her needs. She wasn't here for him to make her feel good, she was there because he kept her there for who knew what. Did he enjoy making her feel like this? Did he enjoy seeing her falling slowly apart? Did he feel some sort of perverted pleasure at the sight of her crumbling down?
She woke up feeling miserable the next morning. She kicked off the blanket – of course she was alone – and bergudgingly walked out to the bathroom. She had to walk across and behind the couch in the living room to do that, and as she did that, she ran her hand in her messy bed hair. Yawning, she opened the door to the bathroom, then she froze and frowned as she turned around to look at the ridiculously big black rectangle that hung on the wall, which she'd seen from the corner of her eyes.
"What the fuck", she murmured, shocked.
Was that... a television?? When did it get there? Not last night, at least, not before she had pulled her little stunt with RK900. But how could this happen? She cried herself to sleep and while she was in dream land, he put it up there? Was it in the car ever since he returned, he just needed to recharge a bit before he could mount it on the wall? Did he send her to bed because he suspected she'd be too excited about it, that she wouldn't sleep at all if she knew what did he bring?
She ran her hands in her hair again and pulled. All these questions had questions and she was rapidly losing her mind to them. Bathroom could wait. She walked around the couch and reached for the remote, turning the telly on.
The stations were all dead.
No matter where she clicked, nothing showed up. There were no news on the news channels, no music channels, no nature channels, nothing. Not even stupid cartoons for children. The telly had 999 channels and none of them worked. She was so confused; why did he bring it here, then? She let the static noise on as she had her usual bathroom break, then walked back to the telly and pushed the button Apps.
Now, there she'd found the usual streaming services she knew by heart. And they had all the shows and movies on them! She wondered why was this the case; perhaps when the RK900s overran the country, they didn't think a news channel would be useful, as androids shared information with each other much faster?
She chose a show and started to watch it.
It was almost overwhelming to hear a human voice after such a long time. She hadn't heard anything other than just a few words lately, and this had such a good impact on her mood. She ate her breakfast watching the telly, still in the nightgown. Then she ate the lunch, there, too. By the time he arrived, she finished the dinner sitting there, and for once, she didn't feel at all intimidated by his presence. This time, he stopped in front of the couch beside her, taking a few seconds to scan her as per the usual, then he sat down beside her and let out a soft, quiet sigh.
It was miraculous how her attention shifted from the show to him as soon as he arrived. She'd lost the story the moment she felt him stand beside her, and it got even worse when he sat down.
She recalled how it felt to snuggle up to his arm, and she was craving to do it again. There was a dull ache in the pit of her gut that got worse and worse with each passing minute until she completely forgot about the show and chanced a look at his form.
He didn't have the jacket on. Every artificial muscle had been enhanced by that high collared shirt, and she had to realise that it only made him all the more intimidating. But at the same time, strangely... she felt safer now that he was there beside her.
Biting her lower lip, she chanced a look at his face, risking the very first eye contact in forever.
She was sitting on his left side, so she couldn't see his LED, but the way he had his eyes closed, let her know that he did what he always had done, every evening. Recharging, updating, scanning himself for problems – who knew? What mattered was that he wasn't paying any attention to her, and she could do whatever she wanted because he wouldn't know.
The thought was unbearably tempting.
Her eyes wandered on his hands, rested neatly on his thighs. He looked completely relaxed – except for his unnaturally straight back. She observed his hand and fingers, the fake veins that could be seen, slightly emerging from his synthetic skin. She knew the skin was artificial, and so were the veins, but it looked so realistic. She wondered if it'd be warm to the touch, or would it be room temperature as it usually was for any other android. Or maybe a bit cooler, because he was outside in the cold?
She swallowed nervously at the thought that emerged from her mind. It'd be insane to do. Crazy. Potentially life threatening. Who knew how would he react if she touched his hand, really? But she wished she could do it. She wished she could stroke those fingers that grabbed her out in the camp to take her here, that washed her when she was on the brink of passing out, that nursed her back to health, that brought this silly television for the human who desperately needed entertainment.
Was he aware that she was just as desperate for physical contact?
Probably. RK900 wasn't the world's most sophisticated android for nothing.
Despite her cravings, she decided to only lean against his arm, like last night. She turned the volume down a bit, and didn't fight sleepiness when it took her.
For the second time in two days, movement woke her up. For the second time, she whined in complaint, but she didn't reach out to grab him this time.
"You should go to bed."
His monotone, almost completely emotionless voice made her feel miserable again. RK900 didn't need the remote to turn the telly off, he could connect to the telly to do it himself, and thus, they were quickly left in the dark without the soft light of the show. She was so sad they were here again, but she didn't dare to object.
"Yes", she sighed quietly, then got off the couch and made a beeline to the bedroom and the bed, hiding under the covers to cry herself to sleep again.
Days passed in a similar manner. She'd always snuggle up to his arm and fall asleep like that, he'd always wake her up and tell her to go to bed, and she'd comply. Even if she wanted to say no, even if she wanted to throw a tantrum, she tried to make her best with the little physical contact she was basically stealing from him.
Until one morning, he was in the kitchen, waiting for her to come out for her breakfast.
He startled her, even if it probably wasn't his intention. She was so used to spending the entire day alone that him being there came as a shock. The breakfast was already waiting for her at the table with a nice cup of tea, and he was sitting just beside that chair. She still avoided his eyes; she'd been there for who knew how long and never made eye contact with him. Somehow it felt disrespectful to her.
Sitting down, she sipped the tea, humming when she discovered that it was the same tea which he'd made for her on her first day here, and that it was the perfect temperature once again. She quickly devoured her breakfast, and tried to ignore that he was even there. She couldn't even imagine what was the reason of him being there. Maybe it was a weekend? She couldn't recall how many days she'd been there, but it must've been more than... she couldn't know. Did androids even have days off?
Again, even her questions had questions.
When she stood from the chair though, he did the same. That froze her where she was, and she stared forward as soon as he came in front of her. She was shivering a bit, but she wasn't cold. His mere closeness when he wasn't 'off' could make her react like that.
RK900 lifted her chin with his right hand. She didn't dare to look him in the eye; her pulse picked up and her lips trembled, as always, when he got too close to her – and the touch felt nice, so very nice, that she felt like her insides would turn to jelly. He ever so gently stroked her chin with his thumb before he withdrew his hand and lifted up his other hand to show her something. She glanced down at it, mortified what she'd see. Thousands of possibilities ran through her mind, one more horrifying than the other. A knife? Poison? A gun? Someone's head?
It was a collar.
Her eyes went wide at the sight. It was a very neat design, though; it was visibly padded with a soft material on the inside of it, the edges were golden, and it had the same triangles on it as it appeared on the arm band on android's clothing. Except, it was shining with a soft, golden light, not with blue as the arm ring on the jacket, around RK900's right arm. The collar could've been mistaken as jewellery, really; it looked expensive and comfortable to wear, even if it was one and a half inches thick.
But it really didn't make much of a difference.
He still wanted to collar her like a dog.
She didn't know what it meant, and she didn't like it. Even if she suspected that the humans' actions would lead to this if an android uprising turned out wrong, even if she knew that he did whatever he pleased and she wouldn't be able to do anything about it. She knew that whatever she did, he'd put that around her throat, even if she resisted, even if she behaved well. But a part of her felt so humiliated that her eyes welled up with tears.
She saw that RK900 tilted his head at her reaction. She wondered if he even could process the emotional state the mere sight of the collar put her in, then she decided not to think about that because she'd quickly jump from one theory to the other, and she'd go insane.
It was easier to believe he was an unfeeling machine that had no idea what it's actions did to others.
RK900 pulled his synthetic skin back and touched the glowing collar. It opened with a soft click. So it responded to his touch. She watched him doing it, watched him getting a hold on both ends of the collar to put it around her neck. The sight of the light glistening on the gold edges reminded her of those rich women who put collars with diamonds on their chihuahua's. Unsurprisingly, she felt the same. She was as small and as weak as a chihuahua. At least, compared to him.
Defeated, she moved her hands up and he froze for a moment as he was raising the collar up, but she was only moving her hair up to help him. RK900 remained silent as he ever so gently slid the collar around her throat and locked it at the back of her neck. It fitted snugly; it had to be a piece tailored just for her. She closed her eyes. A tear rolled down on her cheek and fell on the back of his hand as he withdrew it.
Her silent compliance earned a gentle touch. He cupped her cheek with his right and stroked the tears away from her face with his thumb. She'd never felt more defeated and humiliated in her entire life. Not even when he put her in the bath when he brought her here. Not even when he saw her stark naked.
"We're going out."
It wasn't a question or a suggestion, he made the plans for the day completely clear and nonnegotiable. She did not have a say in anything he planned for her, but her heart fluttered in her chest when she picked up that he said 'we'. He could've voiced it in so many ways. It could've been an order. 'You're coming with me', or 'I'm going out and you will follow'. But it wasn't.
It was 'we'.
Together.