Androids

1.1.1.

Kobolt: Hey guys, I know you are just lurking out in the blogiverse somewhere, but you have to talk or I’m kicking you out.

Akron: Sorry, dude. What are we even supposed to be talking about?

Kobolt: Problems, hardships, whatever’s on your mind. You just have to talk… well, type anyway.

Sagen: Problems? A) I’ve been stuck in a closet for about seven years straight, B) The stupid slaver dude’s going to sell me in, like, 15 minutes, C) and I haven’t eaten in I think, like, five days. Starving. (Sorry if I sound whiney.)

Akron: Sell you? Is he crazy? (I’m just going to guess that’s a yes.)

Sagen: Yeah, at some auction in Africa or something. Yes, he is absolutely insane.

Akron: That stinks. Where are you anyway?

Sagen: I’m in a closet, in the basement of a huge U-shaped building. Right where Langey Rd and Pevensey Rd meet with Cavendish Pl, in Eastbourne, England. Why?

Akron: Cuz’ I think… hold on, lem’ me look out the window.

Kobolt: What’s looking out the window have to do with anything?

Sagen: I have no idea whatsoever. Let’s just ‘shut up’ and wait for him… or her… to get back from looking out the window.

Akron: ‘K, I’m back. I just realized I’m in the building across the street from you. And just because you were wondering, I’m a boy.

Sagen: Yeah, well, you’re lucky your room even has a window. My “room” has a door that happens to be locked, four walls, and it’s sound proof!

Kobolt: Calm down, Sagen. I understand you’re tired of it, but there’s really no reason to ‘yell’ like that.

Sagen: I’m sorry, really. I have a bad temper, I’m hungry, and I just want to go home, you know? That’s all it is.

Akron: No problem. I know what you’re going through. Well, I don’t really, but still. What do you mean exactly by “go home?”

Sagen: I was born in the United States, and I haven’t been here forever. I don’t want to talk about it.

Kobolt: Oh. That must be pretty bad. I’m sorry for you. Maybe you’ll get sold to someone nice. It could happen.

Sagen: That’s not helping anything here.

Kobolt: Sorry, sorry!

Akron: you’re not very good at helping people with personal problems. Did you know that, Kobolt?

Kobolt: No, I guess I’m not very good at it.

Sagen: Either of you know how much time has passed since I started ‘talking’ on here? I kind of need to know because of… yeah.

Kobolt: Ten minutes, or maybe twelve.

Sagen: Twelve! Not good, really not good. *headpalm*

Akron: You know there’s a big truck outside the building you’re in right? It’s a big, black truck.

Sagen: Is swearing aloud on this blog/chat-room? I’m pretty sure that’s going to be a no. *shouts ferocious expletives at wall* AHHHHHH!! Okay, I’m done. I’ll see if I can sneak my computer with me.

Kobolt: Sneak it with you? Where are you going?

Akron: Take a look at her first comment/post or whatever they are.

Kobolt: Oh, I see now. Isn’t there some way you could get out? Do you know how to pick locks? Do you have anything hard and heavy besides your computer that you can smash the hinges on the door with?

Sagen: Well, I’ve got a pile of window curtain-things, a block of wood, this laptop, and a melted paper clip. I could probably smash the hinges with the block of wood. Let me try that… give me a minute.

Akron: This whole thing makes me want to sing the Dark Side’s theme song, from Star Wars. Da da da duh di da, duh di da, de de de dee de da duh di da…

Kobolt: Well stop, because you’re no good at it.

Sagen: Okay, the hinges are broken, and the door’s open. What the heck am I supposed to do now? It’s not like I can go anywhere once I’m out of here. I’ll probably get caught anyway.

Kobolt: Hey, do you guys think that you could both get out? I think I can get a helicopter there in two minutes tops, and have it waiting at the end of the street. Can you?

Sagen: Yippee, I hate helicopters… don’t ask. Send some cops with it and I’ll help them get the slaver. I’m standing right in front of his door, and I found some convenient rope on the stairs in the basement.

Kobolt: That’s a really stupid thing to do, but I guess I’ll have to go along with it since I can’t exactly stop you.

Akron: I think it’s a great idea! How about I sabotage the truck for you? I can do that.

Kobolt: How exactly do you plan to do that? Aren’t you locked in a room too?

Akron: Some people do know how to pick locks. Apparently, I’m one of those “Some people.”

Sagen: I apparently am not one of them, seeing as I had to use a block of wood to smash some small pieces of metal to open the door. Tell them to land on the intersection of Pevensey Rd and Cavendish Pl. Then we can both get there easily enough.

Kobolt: Yes, great, now that we’ve established that, you guys better get moving. The cops are on their way.

Sagen: Great. All settled, let’s get on with it, now, because I think the slaver’s waking up.

All blog connections have been shut down

I had the rope tight in my hand, my laptop was stashed in the pocket of my overly large sweater, and I pushed the slaver’s door open silently. Hoping he wouldn’t wake up at the sound of my footsteps, I walked over to his bed, which was completely covered with candy wrappers and beer bottles. Lying awkwardly in the middle was the slaver. He was lying on top of the covers, with his mouth open and drool dripping onto his shirt. One of his hairy arms was dangling over the edge of the bed, and his floppy, hairy stomach was bulging out of the space between his shirt and his stain-covered jeans. He was snoring, loudly, and I could see bits of his breakfast still lodged in his beard and his mustache.

“Gross.” I muttered to myself. The slaver’s bed was in the middle of the room, so I put the heel of my boot on his stomach, and pushed him right off the bed and onto the pile of trash on the floor. I walked around to the other side of the bed, and I wasn’t surprised to see that he was still snoring as loud as he was before I’d pushed him off. I saw that one of his pockets contained a block-like thing, and when I pulled it out, I once again wasn’t surprised to see that I held a gun in my hand. I took out all the bullets and stuck it through one of my belt loops. I used the ropes to tie his hands together. He woke up when I pulled him to his feet, which was easy to do since he was about a half a foot shorter than me. He started wriggling around and trying to get the ropes undone, but he stopped short when he felt me press the gun into his back. Of course, I wasn’t actually going to shoot him, but it was an easy tool to frighten him into cooperating.

“We’re going outside.” I said in my intimidating voice. He was trembling, a lot, and he immediately walked out of his room to the front door. I didn’t even have to do anything more. He was such a wimp. I walked him out of the door, and saw the helicopter that was waiting down the street. I looked to my left and saw that the tires of the truck were on fire, and melting into the road. Seven or eight police men were marching at a very fast pace toward us. They grabbed the slaver, and he let out a series of whimpering noises. I looked straight into his eyes, and glared my hardest.

“Here, have a gun.” I said and dropped the gun at the slaver’s feet. The police looked at me like I was crazy. “What? I took out all the bullets.” I said and held out my hand, where three bullets lay. I dropped them into a policeman’s open hand, and he gestured toward the helicopter.

“You’re friend’s already on board. I’ll help you get strapped in.” he started walking to the helicopter, and I followed after him. Once at the helicopter, the cop lifted me up to the open seat near the door. He reached across me, grabbed a mass of straps, and buckled them all into their correct… well, buckles. Once again, I really hate helicopters.

“Hey, you alright? You look kind of mad.” The boy, Akron, who I hadn’t realized was sitting next to me said.

“Me? Yeah, I am mad, but I’m okay. I just don’t like helicopters very much.” I answered.

“I don’t like them very much either, now that I think about it. It’s how they, well, never mind.” He said he said, trailing off a bit at the end.

“How they brought you here. I know exactly what you mean, trust me.” I finished the thought for him. I did know exactly what he meant.

“Yeah, I guess you do know what I mean. Well, at least we get to go home now. It’s been a long time.” Akron said.

“Well, not exactly home, home, but back to the United States.” I muttered, honestly hoping he didn’t hear that.
 “What?” he asked, confused about the thing he shouldn’t have heard, but did.

“Um, well, I don’t exactly have an actual home anymore because of… things that happened. I was kind of living on the streets before the slaver guy picked me up. So, yeah, that’s basically it.” I explained, kind of.

“Oh. My home sort of ended with my parents being locked in a room with metal spikes that were gradually getting longer. I suggest you don’t actually think about that right now.”