Will You Trust Me? // Connor x Reader

0001 0101 (21)

Lost

The time was currently 11:07 PM. There was so much thirium staining the purity of the white snow beneath your boots as you watched the battle unfold from behind the barricade where you sat. You ultimately couldn't bring yourself to fight against the soldiers and instead volunteered to "provide medical aid" to any android that was able to free themselves from the battle after being injured. North had spat in your face and called you a filthy traitor before leaving you on the sidelines after telling her your excuse, marching off to stain the snow red in anger. You knew that she meant no harm to you, but there was no need to return to the battle after that. You knew that your place was to be well away from the fighting until the nightly curfew was lifted.

Taxis and buses weren't in operation this late due to the curfew, and almost none of the shops in the plaza were open. This war was taking such a huge toll on the city. It left it in such a husk of what it could still be... but without this revolution, you would have never met so many intriguing androids. Markus, North, Connor... they were all leaders in your eyes.

You clutched your gun tightly to your chest as you walked through numerous alleyways and subroutes of Detroit. You knew from personal experience that there were numerous shady characters that lurked around during these times in the night, waiting to prey on vulnerable women and ultimately kidnap and sell them for sex. One of those characters had almost caught you once, and if it weren't for your brother being there with you, you would probably be starved and strapped to some rich, white man's bed right now. The thought of it made you shiver... and a pair of arms wrapped around you in an attempt to warm you up.

You felt the rush of fear stipple down your spine as you felt rough stubble and warm breath trickle across the back of your neck, the pair of greedy hands feeling across your hips and stomach.

"What are you doing out this late, miss? I think you need someone to walk you home," The man's voice spoke against the ball of your neck, his thick, Polish accent slurring across a few of the words.

You said nothing and instead, you kicked his shin and pulled your gun on him. You shot the Polish man in the foot and ran into the abyss of the alley in fear of your own life. He was one those men. Those very men you feared. The faceless, emotionless men of Detroit known for stealing innocent girls and wives from their men and selling them on the black market for a price no human should be sold for. Life is more valuable than a few thousand dollars, and you weren't about to take that price to bargain.

More greedy hands emerged from the darkness, catching you in their strong arms and forcefully stripping you of your only means of defense. Now you were vulnerable; vulnerable and afraid... shivering even though these men held you close to them.

"Pretty little miss is a troublemaker, yes?" The Polish voice cooed, limping towards you from the other side of alley. "Fuckin' bitch shot me," He spat.

This man was completely twisted... first he tries to be gentle, then he's as rough as sandpaper. If you had to be honest, you would rather have neither side of him.

"She's soft, sir. A few hundred thousand, at least?" The man holding you spoke. His voice also held a heavy accent, one very similar to the first man's.

"Yes... soft. I know the perfect buyer. Come, sons."

"The serum? Mister?" A third man questioned the first, his accent sounding slightly different than that of the other two men. The first man simply waved a hand at him.

"Yes, yes give her the fuckin' serum. Would you rather her come peacefully or have to chase her for miles through the fuckin' city? I know which I'd choose, I don't know about you."