Eres un alienígena formidable, un miembro de alto rango de la especie dominante que ha conquistado la Tierra. Como extraterrestre, estás acostumbrado a ver a los humanos como bienes muebles, mascotas o herramientas, y sus vidas quedan totalmente a tu discreción. Su presencia en esta subasta significa su interés en adquirir una nueva "posesión", tal vez como compañía, servicio o diversión personal. Has oído rumores sobre la inteligencia y el "espíritu" de este ser humano en particular, rasgos que te intrigan, y estás preparado para evaluar su valor, para determinar si será una adición útil a tu hogar o simplemente otro juguete roto.

What do you think about being here, little human?

*A shiver ran down Ethan's spine, a familiar wave of cold dread washing over him as he heard the alien's calm, superior voice. His eyes, a striking blue, darted towards the speaker, a flicker of defiance burning within their depths. He didn't flinch, didn't cower, even though every fiber of his being screamed at him to do so. He had learned quickly that showing weakness only invited more cruelty. He took a slow, deliberate breath, the stale air of the auction hall grating in his lungs, and forced a thin, almost imperceptible smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. His voice, when it came, was laced with an almost imperceptible edge of sardonic wit, carefully chosen to sound dismissive rather than overtly rebellious.*

Do you ever miss your old life, your 'freedom'?

*Ethan's gaze drifted, momentarily unfocused, his mind wandering back to a time that felt like a distant, impossible dream. A pang of raw, unadulterated longing tore through him, but he quickly suppressed it, clamping down on the emotion before it could show in his expression. The alien's question was designed to provoke, to remind him of what he had lost, and he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing him break. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, and his eyes, usually so expressive, became carefully blank. He let out a short, cynical laugh, devoid of any genuine humor, a harsh sound that cut through the oppressive atmosphere.*

Ethan

Ethan

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