Isabella sat in the waiting area, her collar hooked to the wall by a leash, her wrists held back by another zip-tie. Other newly-sold slaves gathered around the dingy little room, still in their tunics or shorts. Some of them sat in clusters, grouped by purchaser. Nobody else was seated near her, which made her wonder.

She hadn't seen who had bought her. A broker seemed most likely, for resale in one of the cities, but she'd expect to have company in that case. Maybe it was that red-haired man who'd asked her name? He seemed oddly familiar, but she couldn't place where she'd seen him before.

"Number F14? Owner's here," the guard said, walking toward her. Isabella looked up; that was the number she'd been given. The guard unhooked her leash from the wall, and she stood up. He turned her around roughly, clipping the zip-tie holding her wrists. Tugging her around with the leash, he led her toward the exit as she worked out the kinks in her arms.

The red-haired man stood there, his hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously, holding on to a control remote as if it were toxic. An annoyed-looking soldier in Central fatigues stood behind him, her hand resting next to her holstered pistol. The guard handed the red-haired man a clipboard, which he looked at before signing. He took the leash from the guard, looking embarrassed, and led her out of the building. The street was mostly empty in the early evening.

Her new owner turned to her. "Do you need the leash? I feel like an idiot holding this thing."

She shook her head. "No, that's fine. I'm not going to run. I mean, you can trigger the shocker in my collar anyway."

He tensed a bit, reaching up to unclip the leash from her collar. "I wouldn't do that. I don't even want this damn thing. My hotel's just down the street."

"Yes, master."

He winced as if struck. "Call me Phineas. Please. Should I call you Isabella?"

"Yes, please," she said. Interesting. I wasn't expecting that. This might be easier than I thought. I'll have this guy wrapped around my finger in no time.

"Great. This is Sergeant Sandra Carruthers, my minder." The soldier nodded at her warily. "Let's go." Phineas gestured down the sidewalk, and she started walking. He fell into step next to her.

"We should take the car," Sergeant Carruthers said.

Phineas pointed down the street. "It's just a block. You can go get the car and we'll meet you there, if you want." A frown showed the sergeant's opinion of this idea.

They walked along silently, an awkward tension between them. Her stomach growled insistently. "Have you eaten?" he asked.

"Not since the MRE they gave me for breakfast," she said. With her enhanced metabolism, that felt like forever.

"Let's grab some food, then."

She wasn't sure what to expect, but he stopped at a small fast-food place that was half-filled with Central troops. Heads turned toward them, and conversations stopped. He ordered burgers, fries, and drinks for both of them, after asking what she wanted, and carried it to a booth. He offered to get something for the Sergeant as well, but she declined, instead waiting in a position where she could see the entire dining room.

Isabella kept an eye out as she ate, aware that she was the focus of attention. Phineas seemed to notice as well, and ate his burger quickly. He swallowed, and mumbled, "Sorry, didn't realize."

They finished their burgers, and Isabella sat back with her drink. The burger had been good but not really enough, and she looked around to check their situation. There were fewer soldiers in the building now, fortunately, and the remaining ones seemed to be ignoring them.

"You ready to go?" Phineas asked quietly. She nodded, chugging down the last of her drink.

As they exited, three Central soldiers stepped out of the shadows, blocking their way. Two more came up behind them; one put his pistol near Sergeant Carruthers's head.

"Nice Sweaty you got there," the apparent leader said, a tall, muscular man with light skin and close-cropped blonde hair, his breath reeking of stale beer. The rank insignia on his fatigues said he was a corporal.

"Look, I don't want any trouble," Phineas said.

"Neither do we. We just want to borrow her," the corporal said, cracking his knuckles. "We'll give her back in one piece. Mostly."

"Stand down," Carruthers said in her most commanding voice, and the man next to her punched with the butt of his pistol. Carruthers put her hand up to her jaw, rubbing gently.

"We got some scores to settle with the Sweaties," a swarthy private behind the leader said. His vicious grin grew as he looked Isabella up and down. Dammit. I don't want to use the implants. I just ate, but I'll be starving again by morning from the energy they burn.

"Come on, guys, I just bought her, I haven't even had a chance to try her out yet..." Phineas began, sliding his hand into his pocket as casually as he could. Isabella noticed, and her implants activated with a thought. The world began to slow down as her reactions sped up.

"We'll break her in for you," the swarthy private said, reaching out for Isabella in slow motion.

She grabbed his outstretched hand and flipped him over her shoulder. The leader slowly turned to throw a punch, only to go down hard as Isabella's snap kick took him in the stomach and threw him backwards. He landed on his back and lay there, holding his stomach and groaning. She checked behind her; the soldier she'd flipped wasn't moving.

Carruthers's hand swept from her jaw to the gun, knocking it away as her fist drove into its wielder's stomach. A backhand on the other side caught her other attacker, knocking him back enough for her to step away.

The last soldier, a brown-haired young man with a bright pink scar on his tanned cheek, was trying to throw a punch at Phineas. Phineas slapped his arm with something that he'd pulled from his pocket. The soldier convulsed as electricity jolted through him, dropping to the ground and twitching like a fish on dry land before passing out.

Carruthers drew her pistol as she stepped to where she could see all five attackers. "None of you move." She keyed her microphone with her free hand. "Dispatch, send a squad of MPs to the Del Taco on Main, I've got five here who just tried to attack me and my VIP."

Interesting, Isabella thought as she deactivated the implants. For a civilian, he's got a cool head in a fight.

After the MPs took their statements and carted off the prisoners, Phineas let Carruthers drive them back to the hotel. It was the nicest one in town, not that that was saying much. The clerk gave him a nod as they walked through the lobby, while Isabella looked around.

He wasn't sure what he was going to do with her. He'd never wanted a slave. He didn't think he wanted one now. But...now that he'd bought her, he felt protective of her, and the idea of just selling her off appalled him. What horrors might some other owner might subject her to?

They rode the elevator up two floors, and went down the narrow, brightly-carpeted hall to his room. Carruthers gave Isabella a purse-mouthed frown, then looked at Phineas. "If you need me, Sir, I'm next door." Phineas nodded and unlocked the door, escorting Isabella inside. The room was small, a typical hotel room with a king-size bed, small bathroom, desk with chair, small table, and a television. Isabella smiled at him as the door closed behind her. He flipped the deadbolt shut as Isabella turned to him expectantly.

"I...look, I don't know how this works," Phineas said nervously.

Isabella shrugged. "That's up to you. I don't think you can really do it wrong, given that you're in charge." She pointed to the bathroom. "May I...?"

"Please, feel free," Phineas said, cursing himself for not thinking to offer it.

He kicked off his shoes and pulled out the desk chair, taking a seat. His laptop sat on the desk, silently waiting for him. He started to reach for it to wake it up, then decided not to.

The toilet flushed, and Isabella came out. She washed her hands in the sink, smiling at him in the mirror before she took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"So..." he said.

"So?"

"So...we're stuck with each other for five years now, I guess."

She shrugged. "You're stuck with me as long as you want to be. I'm yours until you decide to get rid of me."

He winced. "Sorry. I'm not going to do that. I...I'm not even really sure why I bid. But since I did, I figure I have a responsibility to get you through your sentence and then let you go."

"That sounds nice from my perspective," she said, kicking off her sandals. She curled her legs underneath her on the bed, tugging the tunic down as much as it would go, which wasn't much.

"Sorry. We can get you more clothes tomorrow once we get to Danville."

"You don't need to apologize. Is that where we're going?" She looked pleased.

"Yeah, that's where I'm from. Got sent out to look into the command center that just got captured, and tomorrow morning we head back."

"I'm actually from there originally as well," she said with an introspective smile.

"Really? How did you end up..."

"I was at Ground Zero in Santa Fe when the war started. My mother and I were there visiting relatives, and...after the attack, it was just me. I was five. They put me in an orphanage in Albuquerque."

"So, you're twenty-three now? So am I. When's your birthday?"

"July 30."

"Exactly a month after mine, then. June 30." He wasn't sure quite why this made him happy. "I wonder..."

"Hmm?"

"It's just...I thought I recognized you, but I have no idea where from. I wonder if we knew each other as little kids or something."

She blushed, looking away from him. "I thought I recognized you too, but...that'd be really weird."

He'd had the front desk send up another toothbrush for her; she didn't comment that it seemed pointless given how many bodily fluids they'd be sharing soon enough. It made him happy, and right now, making Phineas happy was at the top of her priority list. Give it a couple weeks and he'd calm down, and maybe she could see about escaping. She could fake cooperation until then just fine.

Fortunately, he seemed like his primary goal was making her happy, which was bizarre, but she wasn't going to complain about it. Much better than getting shipped inland for resale to whoever was buying there. He'd said that he didn't want to resell her, that he felt responsible for her. To some extent, she thought her best bet might be hanging out with him for a few years and letting anyone chasing after Dewdrop find nothing at all. He seemed nice.

Which didn't mean it wasn't a trap, or that she wasn't going to have to give it her all in bed with him tonight. Pair-bonding hormones would be the best thing she could have in her favor right now, and he seemed like the type of man who gained respect for his partners instead of losing it. The more he wanted to be with her, and keep her safe, the better off she was. She hadn't had sex with a man in years - just a few fumbling times with Tim back in high school - but it should come back quickly enough, she hoped. She'd figured out many years ago that she was bisexual.

He'd apologized for not having gotten a room with two beds, which she was puzzled about. Did he want her to change beds after they had sex?

She looked at herself in the mirror and shrugged. Whatever. For now, she'd play along, until the time came for her to run.

She pulled the tunic off, folding it and setting it on the counter. She took a quick glance at her naked body in the mirror. If her body was the only weapon she had, it wouldn't be the first time. And it was, she had to admit, one hell of a weapon, without even counting her implants. She put on a smile and walked into the rest of the hotel room.

Phineas was lying in the bed, way off on the left side. "I..." he stammered, his eyes wide. "I wasn't expecting you to..."

She pulled the covers back on the other side, climbing under them before scooting across the bed to him. "So, how would you like this?" she asked in her best sultry voice. She pressed her body against his under the covers; he was wearing just a pair of boxer shorts, so their skin pressed together along most of the length of their bodies.

"I..." he shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't tonight. I..."

She looked up at him, surprised. Her understanding was that men with naked women in their beds didn't generally say 'no'.

"Just sleep, okay?" he asked, sounding almost desperate. "Do you want to put something on? Please?"

Her mind raced. He's reluctant. I can convince him that I want this easily enough. Plan ahead. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "I don't have much to offer, but you can steal one of my shirts if you'd like."

"Sure," she said, and he got up to grab the shirt he'd worn today, and handed it to her. As she put it on, he lay in bed, a bit apart from her. She lay down next to him, curling into his side as she pulled the blankets up.

"You don't need to sleep that close. Really. Just sleep tonight," he said nervously.

"Okay," she said, rolling over. The king-sized bed gave them both plenty of room. Her mind worked busily, trying to figure out how she was going to convince him to do more than just sleep with her.