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Chapter 2 - TWO

Standing at the edge of the bar, Com places his hands against the cool glass of the counter. The bartender glances over at him with a scowl that highlights her dark blue eyeshadow. She leans down in a patronizing manner as Com meets her eyes. 

"Is she here?" Com asks. 

"Go away."

"Just answer me, yes or no." 

The bartender scowls and leans in closer, her hot breath wafting into his face. Com blinks slower as he's jerked forward by the collar. The bartender whispers into his ear with a firm tone. 

"Do your ears not work? I told you to go away." 

She snaps Com back away from the bar and he stumbles into one of the patrons. A human girl with a big afro hairstyle and dark skin. 

"Watch it!" she snaps. 

Her eyes run up and down Com's body in annoyance. Upon seeing the numbers written on his cheek, her eyes widen and she walks away. Com watches as she anxiously heads back towards her friends at the table. They whisper a bit to each other, nervously making eye contact every so often. 

"What's the big deal? Let him drink if he wants," a voice says. 

Com turns to see the looming Captain Miles standing next to him. With his brown curly hair and sparkling blue eyes, he leans against the bar and smiles. 

"I thought you were the one that said he shouldn't be here, an android walking around without an escort scares people," she scolds. 

"I would never say anything like that."

"Ah, so you're a liar and a drunk. Nice combination," she says. 

Miles grins and watches as she sashays away, her long black hair pulled into a messy braid. Com stares at him as he watches her hips. Licking his lips, he places his drink on the bar as she pushes the dangling beads out of her way and enters the kitchen. 

"She's a real firecracker isn't she, but she doesn't like me." 

"I wonder why," Com asks rhetorically. 

"Women. Who knows. Anyways, I'm Captain Miles. In charge of this hellhole, am I right?" 

He stretches his hand out, and hesitantly, Com shakes it. The two stare at each other for a bit too long, until Miles breaks off the handshake. 

"So…you're Com then? Interesting name. Did Debbie give it to you? Or was that her moms idea?" 

"Is she here?" 

"Sure is." 

Captain Miles points towards the jukebox in the back of the room. The lights blink across the dance floor, in tune with the blaring synth music. Debbie sways back and forth, completely out of rhythm and obviously drunk. Com stands, but is quickly pushed back down into the chair by Captain Miles. 

"Easy there boy, what's the rush?" he laughs, "So tell me about her, what does she like to do for fun? Anything interesting I should know about?" 

"I really better get her out of here before The President sees her." 

"Wow..quite the devoted sex doll aren't we?" 

Com swallows hard and tenses up as Miles leans back in his chair with a giddy expression, pretending to be concerned. 

"Oh, was that wrong of me? I just assumed that's what she used you for. I mean, it's not like you are her boyfriend or something right? So why do you care?"

"That's none of your business."

"Quite the tongue you've got. Be careful, someone might chop it off if you aren't careful."

Com turns away with a hotness in his cheeks. The music vibrates against the bar, shaking every so often as he gazes emptily into the crowd. 

"Com?" Debbie asks. 

His eyes dart towards her voice. She stands with a little wobble in her legs and a big grin on her face. 

"What are you doing here?" she asks in a slur. 

Com opens his mouth to speak but is quickly cut off by Captain Miles. He stands and wraps his arm around her shoulder, squeezing her gently. 

"He was worried about you. So cute, like a little kid right? It must get old though, for a woman like you."

Debbie pushes him away with annoyance. Rolling her eyes, she places her hands on her hips. 

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Come on, you must think about what it would be like with a human right? A real man you know?" 

Debbie pauses, her eyes squinting with a devious twinkle. 

"You wish." 

"Come on, what's he got that I don't? Is there something you aren't telling us about what he's got, you know..."

With a quick playful punch to the shoulder, Debbie grins anxiously. 

"Com's family don't talk about him that way."

"Looks like a toaster to me."

Debbie's face contorts, her eyes moving back and forth across his face. Com meekly yanks at Debbie's wrist. 

"Time to go, we don't want The President finding out."

"Oh, I'll go alright. After he apologizes."

"For what?" he laughs, "it's all in good fun." 

"No it's not. You need to apologize."

Captain Miles squints and looks towards Com. He shakes his head in amusement and glances back at Debbie. 

"I'm sorry," he says half heartedly. 

"Not to me."

"…I look stupid I'm not going to do that in front of the whole ship. It's embarrassing." 

"Know what else is embarrassing?" Debbie asks. 

"What?" 

With a right hook, she punches him as hard as possible in the face. He falls backwards, with a bloody nose. His eyes widen with terror and delight as blood drips down his face. 

"Explaining how I kicked your ass to the entire ship!" 

Com frantically grabs Debbie as she lunges at Captain Miles. She pulls away from Com's restraint with a mischievous gleam in her eye. 

"Are you ready to apologize now? You asshole!" she exclaims. 

A few hollers and screams from patrons alerts the bartender who rushes from out of the kitchen. She looks directly into Com's eyes and scowls. 

"The hell is this?!" she exclaims, pointing, "goddamnit, not again! Get security now!" 

"No wait—" Com tries to speak. 

"I've had enough of you. Shut up before I turn you off, you hear?"

Com continues restraining Debbie as she curses. After a few minutes the security detail enters. They all wear black jumpsuits and push Com to the side, sticking a large needle into Debbie's neck with force. 

"Careful!" Com snaps. 

Her eyes wearily shut and her knees buckle. Com cradles her in his arms as she falls. He lightly touches the bruising skin around her neck. One of the men reaches towards Debbie's gravity boots. Com jerks back as the man stands there with an outstretched hand. 

"It's okay, it's over, let us do our job okay?" 

This one has a soft voice despite his rugged beard and wrinkled skin. Com hesitantly nods as the man turns off her boots with a swipe. Two security men grab her by the arms and yank her away from Com's embrace. 

"I don't want her in here anymore, you hear me?"

Slowly turning, Com hears ringing inside his ears. Out of the corner of his eye there is a glitchy pixel. At first he thinks it's one of his retinas malfunctioning but as he turns, he sees the woman from his dreams. She's standing there with tears dripping down her face and a warped expression. 

Com's eyes dart around trying to see if anyone can see her. Everyone has gone back to drinking and dancing. He can hear the shrill voices of customers becoming softer and sees the darkness starting to envelop his senses. Falling backwards, he sees a single image ingrained in his mind. The woman. With an outstretched hand, she reaches forward, and he hears the voice clearly once again. 

"Kill me."

The holding room is dark at night. Dark during the day even, but for those who have little skill, working there has some perks. For starters, a person doesn't have to do much besides stay awake. Some of them don't even do that. It's a thankless job but the guards still somehow manage to find joy in it. 

"For he's a jolly good fellow…for he's a jolly good fellow…" the guards sing.

Debbie, sitting inside the holding cell, is sure that drinking on duty is against the rules. Yet here she is, the one being punished, as always. And besides, she hates that song. If he is really 'such a good fellow,' why sing about it so much? 

They continue to sing out of key as she sits on the bench, trying to keep her mouth shut. The alcohol levels of her blood are slowly going back to normal, so all that is left is a dull aching headache. Yelling at them to shut up didn't work, she'd tried that already. Too tired and in too much pain, she leans against the wall of the holding cell and sighs. The dark grey paint, and the old metal jail cell makes the place feel claustrophobic. Suddenly the singing stops and Debbie curiously looks up at the guards who are now cowering. 

"I see you're enjoying yourself," The President says.

Debbie's heart starts beating inside her eardrums. Her eyes dart down towards the metallic floor, and her cheeks start burning. The world blurs with tears as The President looks at her with a scowl. She shakes her head once, a few strands of her hair floating in zero gravity. Debbie opens her drying mouth to speak. 

"Don't. I don't want to hear your excuses. Your things are all packed and ready to go, anything you don't take will be thrown away." 

Debbie stutters, "where will I go?" 

"Not my concern. Maybe you can figure some things out. Like responsibility." 

The doors to the holding room open and two men enter with Com's arms around their shoulders. His feet scrape across the floor as they enter with his motionless body. The President turns and shakes her finger. 

"And what is this?"

The two shrink as she scolds them. One of them, the oldest, opens his mouth. 

"What should we do with it? The bartender found it turned off after closing, I think something's wrong with it." 

Debbie's eyes widen, and her hands start trembling as she watches to see how The President responds. A moment feels like days, as she seems to be purposely delaying her response. 

"Take it to the trash unless you want it for something. It's an older model, probably only good for scrap."

Her heart sinks into her stomach as the world starts to cave in around her. The hairs on her arms stand up as she shakes the bars of the prison. 

"No! No! Please, please, don't," Debbie begs. 

"Enough. I always forget how sentimental you are, it's embarrassing. Stop sniveling. Can you put it in the storage closet with the rest of Debbie's things?" 

The two men nod and drag Com out of the room with a skid. Debbie exhales as tears start flowing down her cheeks. She can't control the wave of sadness that's taken over her entire body. She plops down on the bench while rubbing her face with her hands. The snot and tears stick to her fingers as she turns away.

"I don't understand how you care for that thing more than your own family. If that thing said jump off a bridge you would. You know people talk, it's not a good look. It'd be better if you got rid of it…but I guess I don't have to worry about that anymore."

"Thank you," Debbie says in a ragged breath. 

"I do so much for this family and what do I get for it? A Captain with a broken nose. You're lucky I know how to get you out of these legal issues you always find yourself in." 

Debbie doesn't respond; she simply sits there and stares vacantly into the distance. Her eyes have dried up and all that's left is snot on her hand. 

"Tomorrow you'll be gone and I won't have anything else to worry about," her voice cracks, "don't bother saying goodbye, I'll be busy." 

Debbie doesn't answer as The President leaves and the guards look dumbfounded. They all sit on their hands, except for a young brazen guard who swivels in his chair with a twitchy lip. 

"Tough break kid."

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