I Would Die 4 U

I don't kill people unless I have to. It's not that I have an aversion to murder--I'm a slave, I don't have likes or dislikes save when instructed. But I do have specific programming, invested in my mind through a lengthy and elaborate process that created the personality of Service Unit 4U underneath the mind of Haley Keene. The Masters who programmed me don't like drawing unwanted attention to themselves, and murder and kidnapping are two things that draw a lot of unwanted attention. They're also two very direct solutions to most problems we might encounter during the course of a mission, so we're carefully constrained from considering them in all but a very few situations.

That's saving my life right now. Service Unit 2B has been instructed by the Directors to detonate the bomb strapped to her chest as soon as it's within lethal range of my Master. But she hasn't been instructed to kill me. She knows that I'm a slave like her, that I've been programmed using the same lengthy and elaborate process that brought her under the direct control of the MKPerfect Corporation (even if she's not allowed to know those words) and that I am a valuable asset to be preserved. She's trying very hard to work out a solution to the problem of carrying out her task without annihilating me along the way. And if she's anything like me, she's probably more than a little amused by the irony of viewing her own life as eminently expendable, while mine is absolutely vital. Slaves like us have a strange sense of humor.

I know how 2B thinks because I think almost exactly the same way. A week ago, I wouldn't have added the 'almost', but it's been an eventful seven days. It's odd; you don't normally think of your existence as a brainwashed slave as routine, but the contrast between the three years I've spent serving the Corporation and the chaos I've gone through recently is unmistakable. Haley might have experienced missing time, woken up with strange bruises or soreness between her legs, or simply found herself doing things she couldn't explain to herself, but I always understood them to be part of my duties and I took care of the necessary business of eliding Haley's consciousness over the gaps. There was never anything unexpected, because I always expected to obey and nothing else held any importance to me.

But I never expected to see my Masters at war. I didn't imagine them having conflicts, because I wasn't allowed to imagine it. My programming required me to see my owners as infallible and perfect, and so I simply assumed that the Directors of MKPerfect spoke with one voice, acted with one will. And I was an instrument of that will. It all made so much sense to me...but now, with only one Master to serve, I can see the ways that I acted like a puppet with too many sets of strings.

That's not a problem for Unit 2B right now. She obeys a single will just like I do. It's simply a different one.

That's not to say that she only has one Master. Unit 2B obeys the Directors of the MKPerfect Corporation, just like I used to. But the last seven days have significantly consolidated the decision-making process in my old company. Killing off three members of the board and replacing them with mindless, compliant shills tends to do that. I can still remember the texts I received on my phone, the only evidence of a brutally efficient coup that struck down my old Masters even as they went into hiding and planned their own counter-coup. I warned them of the threat as soon as I knew, but there was very little I could to do protect my Masters when the source of their danger was another Master.

I don't have that problem anymore. My Master is my Master now. The phone that delivers my instructions only responds to her. That same phone sent me a text reassigning my loyalties from the MKPerfect Corporation and its Directors to a single person, isolating my command structure from the network of slaves I've been connected to for the past three years and turning me into the personal slave of my Master. I am still Service Unit 4U, but there are no other service units as far as I'm concerned. 2B is a slave like me, but she is not one of my fellow slaves.

Even so, I'm trying not to kill her. Not unless I have to. I'm keeping her pinned down, preventing her from reaching her phone so that she can update her Masters on the situation and receive new orders that treat me as expendable. It's really all I can do at the moment; she has the same mindless determination to break free and kill my Master as I do to prevent her murder. We're evenly matched. It's a stalemate, at least as long as she doesn't decide to just blow up all three of us.

A week ago, this wouldn't have been a problem. Slaves are conditioned to protect their Masters above all else; even if given a direct command to do so, 2B would never take any action that would knowingly cause injury to one of her Masters. (Unknowing action is quite a different story--one of the three dead Masters was killed by a bomb delivered to him by a service unit who had no idea what she was carrying. This coup was well-planned to take advantage of our unthinking obedience.) Even if 2B didn't stop herself from following her instructions, my Master could have simply told her to stop and she would.

But my Master isn't on the board anymore. She was voted out, 4-0 with three abstentions due to absence. The motion was carried during a remarkably productive board meeting in which three members voted in perfect lockstep with the fourth, shutting the opposition completely out of the power structure of the MKPerfect Corporation...and more importantly, out of the command network of the service units. My Master is no longer able to command 2B, and no longer protected by the constraints 2B follows. Really, blowing up her house seems entirely unnecessary, but I suppose the new Director has his reasons to be thorough.

My Master doesn't seem like a threat, though. I glance over to the corner where she's cautiously watching our struggle, and I don't see a dangerous woman. She seems gorgeous, perfect, everything I've ever imagined a Master to be during my years of service, but she's more suited for a boardroom battle, not a life or death struggle for survival. I assume I'll have my work cut out for me simply keeping her alive and safe, let alone getting her together with the other two rogue Masters and installing her in power once more.

My assumptions are challenged slightly when my Master scoops up an antique vase, stomps over to where we're struggling in an endless stalemate, and hits 2B over the head as hard as she possibly can. 2B doesn't pass out; it's hard to knock someone unconscious, to be honest. But her grip slackens considerably, and I'm able to improve my position enough to get access to the bomb. It's the work of a moment for someone with proper training to defuse it, and it just so happens that I've been trained in practically everything.

So has 2B, which is why I make sure to keep a firm grip on her until my Master has followed up the shot from the vase with a solid crack on the skull with what looks to be a first edition of 'A Tale of Two Cities'. She winces at the way the book's spine creaks ominously under the impact, but breathes a sigh of obvious relief when 2B sags into my arms unconscious. "Get the bomb off of her," she says. "Let me know if you can set it to detonate on a timer."

"Yes, Master," I reply briskly, setting 2B on the ground and rolling her over to gain access to the clasp on the explosive vest. It's rigged to blow if tampered with, but I'm trained with exactly the same skills as the woman who booby-trapped it. It's child's play for me to disconnect the fuses and remove the vest from her slumped form. "There's no timer on the bomb, but I can modify 2B's phone to serve as one." I talk rapidly; I may not be able to remember this Master's name or anything that could be used to betray her identity, but I know her preferences intimately from years of service. She doesn't need a slave's seductive obedience right now, she needs someone who can do a job. And instantly, I become that someone.

I take the bomb with me to the phone, just in case 2B wakes up, and start violating the phone's warranty. It takes me about seven minutes to wire the bomb into the phone's timer, mostly due to the lack of proper tools and the need to keep an eye on 2B to make sure she doesn't stir. My Master is standing over her with the book, just in case, but I know better than to believe she stands a chance against us in combat. I know she's perfect in all ways, but I also have a realistic understanding of her fighting skills. Holding the two beliefs simultaneously is what makes me a service unit.

As soon as I finish, I look up and say, "How long do you want the timer set for, Master?" I've long ago learned not to call her 'Mistress'. 'Anyone can be called Mistress,' she once said to me. 'I've worked long and hard to be one of your only true Masters, and I'm not giving that title up for anything.' I see that same determination on her face now, as she holds the dented and battered volume over her unconscious enemy. She knows what it will take to topple the Directors. I won't be the only one with blood on my hands by the end of this.

"Ten minutes," she replies. My fingers are already tapping out the instructions on the screen when she surprises me by saying, "And come get 2B when you're done. We're taking her with us." I don't understand why, but I already know it's not my place to ask. I conform to my owners' desires, and if my Master wants to bring her assassin along on her flight from danger, I can only obey. Even so, I'm already planning contingency scenarios for when she wakes--I don't think she'll try to kill my Master, not without specific instructions for what to do if the bomb fails, but she'll definitely try to return to her Masters for further direction. That can't happen.

For now, though, I sling her over my shoulder in a fireman's carry, and follow my Master out of the library and down one set of stairs after another. "I have a panic room set up in the sub-basement," she says, either because she thinks I might need the information or simply out of nervous habit. Sometimes the Masters forget we aren't people anymore. "I thought I was a little paranoid bomb-proofing it, but I guess I wasn't paranoid enough. I didn't even test it." She lets out a wry chuckle. "I guess I can always sue the contractor if it fails."

We descend one level after another, my mind constantly keeping track of the seconds with unerring precision, and reach the panic room with over two minutes to spare. The doorway is concealed, and when we get inside, I find that it's really more of a 'panic apartment'; it's well stocked with canned goods, has a generator and a secure VPN, and a second exit that comes out in a warehouse two miles away. It even contains a full brainwashing apparatus, the exact kind that made me and 2B. Everything my Master needs to begin her retaliation. If she doesn't think she was paranoid enough, I find it difficult to comprehend what she's second-guessing.

We seal ourselves in, and I restrain 2B just as the bomb goes off. It's a distant rumble from where we are, but I can easily imagine that the sound carries for miles. The shockwave probably carries for miles up and down the Thames. With any luck, they'll assume our remains went into the river. (I already know we won't have any luck. But even a slave has dreams.) We are, at least for the moment, perfectly safe.

And my Master's veneer of calm finally cracks. The panic seeps into her expression as she begins to shake, the adrenaline rush of realizing just how close she came to dying hitting her like the bomb blast against the water. I see it happening, and my mind instantly shifts to become what she needs me to be. Just like always.

I enfold her in my arms, guide her to the bed and hold her gently. "It's alright," I whisper, "it's okay, you're safe, I've got you." I don't really think much about what I'm saying; the tone is much more important than the words. I kiss her passionately, giving her unwinding tension a release in arousal. My voice reminds her that she's safe, and my caresses remind her that she's alive. I already know what's going to happen next.

She pulls me back onto the bed, returning my embrace with hungry desire as I strip her clothes off. My hands find her breasts, her nipples already stiff and hot under my fingertips. Her body is turning that adrenaline rush into an erotic charge, giving the stress somewhere to go so that it doesn't shake her apart; when I reach between her legs, she's wetter than she's ever been before. I rub her clit, still whispering soothing words in her ears, and it's not long until her eyes are distant and glassy with pleasure.

I know that she's only allowing me to take control for a little while, just until she can recover from the shock, but I embrace that strength and power because she needs me to and I always obey my Master's needs. I kiss her with an intensity that makes our lips ache, I plunge my fingers deep into her cunt until the web between my thumb and forefinger rams into her clit. I mumble into her mouth, telling her that she's okay, that everything's okay, that I'm her devoted slave and nothing bad can happen to her while I'm here. It's true in that moment because I will it to be true. I believe whatever I need to believe to serve, and right now I believe that she needs someone to believe in.

I feel her come on my fingers, practically squirting all over the bedspread in the heat of orgasm, but I don't stop. She doesn't want me to stop. She doesn't know what she wants, but right now I do. And what she wants--what she *needs* is to be fucked until she passes out from ecstasy, rebooting her brain with pleasure to shake off the terror that freezes her brain in a fugue state. She needs to come again. And my hands are very well trained to help her with that.

Her hips are bucking up to meet my fingers, her hands are tangling in my hair. I'm conscious of her hunger for my touch, but I'm also losing track of everything in my desperate need to keep pleasuring her. It's the same layering of consciousness I always experience, given new and powerful meaning by the importance of making her happy. I have no other Masters to please, I have no other directives or directions to follow. I have a single devotion now, possibly for the first time ever, and it makes it easier and easier to stop thinking of anything but making my Master come a third time. And a fourth. And finally, blissfully, I stop counting.

It's only when I hear the strain in her moans, the drowsy groans of exhaustion intermingling with the whimpers of pleasure, that I finally soften her stimulation into gentle stroking. I feel her go limp, her relaxation so deep at last that she twitches as her muscles unwind, and I soothe her that final step into sleep. When she wakes, our struggle will begin. We'll need to decide to do with 2B, we'll need to figure out how to contact the remaining free Directors, and we'll need to deal with a rogue board that has every plan to expand their control. But for now, all I need to do is protect her.

It's slavery. I know that. But it's also something like love.

THE END