Chapter Text
The black screen blinks rhythmically, almost lulling Jungkook to sleep. He’s been waiting for weeks for a response, any response, but he’s finally beginning to lose hope. That stupid fucking curser just keeps blinking, mocking him for even thinking that anyone could make a difference. That he could make a difference.
His head drops to the back of his chair as he swivels from side to side. He should really get out of his conapt, the cement walls of his tiny home doing nothing to help with his anxiety. All conapts are the same, only found in the lower districts, vast gray buildings housing miniature cubes the lower class, or nocas, those with no cash, inhabit.
The one window in his place takes up the entirety of the far wall, letting in the visual noise of multi-colored neon lights and flickering holographic billboards outside. No wonder he can never sleep. Everything these days is strategically placed to overwhelm, hypnotize and control the human race, or what’s left of it, that is.
Popping a small blue pill in his mouth, his designated nutrition supplement, Jungkook chases it back with some sludge, hissing at the sharp, bitter taste. Actual coffee is scarce as the beans are extremely rare, so he has to make due with what he can get his hands on. The caffeine found in sludge gives his body the jolt it needs to stay alert but fucks with his stomach, nonetheless.
He’s just about to push away from the slab of metal he uses as a desk in his tiny spare room when the screen flickers, static distorting the image before it goes completely black again. Green letters begin to appear and Jungkook quickly grabs a board and charcoal, copying down the seemingly random coding that appears. Writing dirty is the best way to stay off the grid and under their radar and not many people own or desire to own ‘dirty’ materials like pencils and paper.
That’s all it ever is, miscellaneous letters, numbers and symbols that mean nothing to the average normie. But to a wirehead like Jungkook, this is gold. He will memorize the sequence before wiping the clunky computer clean and pretending this never happened.
The screen blinks and goes black, per usual, and he rolls his chair back, freezing when green letters suddenly appear in a not so random pattern now. The familiar handle pops up and sweat begins to bead along his brow.
Vante:
If they come for you, don’t run.
Jungkook pauses before his fingers begin typing furiously on the old school keyboard. The only way to be untraceable now is to use the technology from half a century ago.
Baby🌟Candy:
Who? What’s going on?
Vante:
I can’t keep them off your tail forever. They’re on to me.
They’re coming.
Baby🌟Candy:
What do you mean ‘off my tail’?
I don’t leave bread crumbs. I’m clean.
Vante:
You do.
You’re not.
Lay low. They know your handle but not your identity.
Baby🌟Candy:
Who?????
Vante:
Remember what I said.
You won’t hear from me again.
Baby🌟Candy:
What? Why?
Vante?
Vante:
They’re here.
Baby🌟Candy:
Who? Run, Vante!
Why aren’t you fighting back?
You can’t let them win!
Vante:
They already have.
Baby🌟Candy:
Who???
Vante?
Vante!
⊹ ˚₊‧ 𖥔 🦾 𖥔 ‧₊˚ ⊹
Jungkook never wanted a droid. Doesn’t like them. Doesn’t trust them with their dead, void-like orbs for eyes and that disconcerting lavender hue. V’s eyes are the brightest violet Jungkook has seen thus far. He loathes them.
But alas, here he is, giving his new ‘companion’ a tour of his modest home. V stops in each room, scanning it in its entirety, surely downloading all the specs, before moving on to the next space. He—it—moves silently, not even a whisper of a footstep or a puff of a breath. But Jungkook guesses those aren’t things the people of The High City really care about. No. They’re more interested in what droids can do for them, using the imitation humans to establish an aura of wealth and importance the everyday average normie doesn’t give a shit about; literally cannot afford to give a shit about.
Jungkook doesn’t care about wealth or status, it would be pointless anyway. When 78% of the world population has been wiped out, any semblance of wealth or privilege is harbored by the .001%. Jungkook is not part of that miniscule population so what does it matter? What does any of this matter?
“You are distressed. Shall I fetch you a happiness tablet?”
Jungkook jumps at V’s deep baritone. It’s the first time he—it—has spoken since arriving back to the conapt and though its voice is fluid and smooth, goosebumps still erupt along the exposed parts of Jungkook’s body. V’s eyes flick down to Jungkook’s arms, the hairs standing on end, and the human shoves his fists in his back pockets. The bot is downright creepy. Being perceived by him—it—is borderline terrifying. Jungkook doesn’t know if he’ll ever sleep again.
Jungkook never wanted a droid. Doesn’t like them. Doesn’t trust them. So how did he get here, with his very own AI droid?
⊹ ˚₊‧ 𖥔 🦾 𖥔 ‧₊˚ ⊹
“I can’t believe you have me out at this time like a nightcrawler,” Jungkook hisses, backing his two-wheeled EMV behind a broken down structure that is now little more than rubble. The electronic mech vehicle doesn’t run as smoothly as it used to, worn down from years of use and lack of proper maintenance.
Namjoon stuffs his hands in the pockets of his trenchcoat, spiky black hair making his features look sharp and menacing as the ducted jet fans of his aerodyne whir and the vehicle lifts vertically from the ground, well above the building’s roofs, and takes off. But then he smiles and those damn dimples that would make a lacehead give up their precious drugs are on full display. Jungkook rolls his eyes knowing, despite his helmet, Namjoon can still see him.
He taps his temple twice and the mechanical whirring sound of disks fills his ears as the transparent planes of his helmet fold in on themselves and disintegrates. It’s not until the helmet fully disappears that Jungkook lifts a leg and dismounts the EMV.
“Come on, Kook,” Namjoon says, flinging an arm around his shoulders, guiding him down an even darker alley. “Trust your preme choom!”
Jungkook arches an eyebrow suspiciously at his best friend pool. “I trust you. It’s them I don’t trust.”
“I told you, this will be a night to remember.”
“Famous last words,” the younger man grumbles, chunky black boots kicking up dust as they trudge through debris.
Namjoon cackles, knocking on a dingy hunter green door to a dilapidated brick building. “You and your old sayings,” he shakes his head, ignoring the two armed badges standing at the door, their iron pieces glinting on their hips. They ignore him back, the perk of being one of the Flushed. They do, however, glare at Jungkook suspiciously with their artificial lavender eyes but Namjoon just grins. “Get ready to experience the high life. Follow me.”
The synthetic beats of the punk metal music blast Jungkook’s good ear, his left ear is only barely able to pick up the low thud of the bass. Maybe a few dozen years ago this would be a jarring image for the mind to calculate: flashing lights, a soft haze permeating the cavernous room as oxygen is pumped in astronomical levels to increase endorphins juxtaposed with the lavish, ‘sophistication’ of the elite class. Jewels glitter, metal prosthetic appendages gleam, artificial furs (real animals are scarce nowadays) brush against his arm as abnormally large multicolored eyes bombard Jungkook, who winces as they make their way through the dance floor and downstairs.
The path seems to be an endless maze and if it were not for Namjoon being his preem choom, Jungkook would never have even stepped foot in this circus. His thick, rubber soles boots thud against the pristine onyx marble floor, fake gilded veins running throughout and Jungkook rolls his eyes at another pathetic show of faux wealth. Everyone knows there is no real marble anymore. The human race, and the others, have decimated almost all the planet’s natural resources.
And speaking of, the over abundance of fake greenery stationed in every corner of the space and hanging from the ceiling is flat out ridiculous. As technologically advanced as their society may be, they still haven’t found a way to make these ridiculous plants look or even feel real. Cyborgs? Androids? Flying vehicles? No problem. Trying to revive any genus of plant or tree that could maybe help the nocas and rats breathe a little better? Nah, not important.
“Welcome to The Auction, gentlemen!” A flawless man with platinum blonde hair and a heart shaped smile gestures to the open space stadium style seating behind him. “Kim Namjoon, pleasure to have you back. And how are you enjoying your purchases?”
Namjoon smiles politely, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “They are fine, thank you, Hoseok.” He turns to Jungkook, motioning to the man. “Jungkook, this is Hoseok. He is tonight’s auctioneer and the head droid handler.”
With a slight nod of acknowledgement, Jungkook follows the pair to a secluded booth. All the booths are secluded actually, separated solely by holographic partitions that, though transparent, flicker and shimmer so disturbingly, one cannot look directly at them. The booths are set up in half circles in an amphitheater, the smog filled sky, even at night, looming up above. Jungkook frowns. If they were anywhere else, they wouldn’t even be able to breathe from the pollution and radiation. Again, the perks of being one of the Flushed. And yet somehow the space is still as dim and sinister as can be.
Jungkook’s skin crawls as he passes Hoseok and slides into the booth. Hoseok. Namjoon has mentioned that name before. He’s a top notch concierge for home-based droids of the elite status. As the gatekeeper of the most sought after droids, Hoseok is well-known and well-respected by those with both power and bank to spare, both of which Namjoon has. Neither of which, Jungkook possesses as a noca.
Hoseok is also one of them, the others, as those in the underground call them, his lavender eyes are a telltale sign that he is not human. It’s unnerving how real Hoseok looks; he’s definitely several steps up from even the highest class droid Jungkook has seen, other than Namjoon’s set.
Namjoon’s androids were coveted by everyone with enough bank to even know what an elite droid was. Gorgeous, flawless, even by droid standards, their mech stats are impeccable, truly impressive and utterly unnecessary. Which means Namjoon just had to have them. Must be nice.
“Here is tonight’s menu, gentlemen,” Hoseok grins sweetly, handing them each a dataslate smaller than his palm.
Jungkook accepts it, making sure not to touch the advanced droid. The coolness of their synthetic skin has always freaked him out. It’s the one thing tech advancement hasn’t achieved as of yet and Jungkook is relieved. At least there is one thing humans have that these cold robots can’t replicate.
“The fuck?” Jungkook mutters, tapping his ID chip to the tablet which automatically expands, listing everything on tonight’s ’menu.’
It’s an antiquated term, ‘menu’, as most of the bourgie are too destitute to have ever tasted or even seen real food. Not that it’s necessary. Traditional food has become just another way for the Flushed to show off their obscene wealth, always eager to impress with lavish buffet displays where they gorge themselves to the point of sickness. But like everything else unpleasant they bring upon themselves, there’s a pill for that too.
Namjoon expands his dataslate, eyes scanning the listings. Jungkook doesn’t have to look to know that his choom isn’t even bothering to glance at the price list. “Interesting selection today.”
Jungkook shrugs, politely declining a drink he assumes is champagne from the petite girl carrying a tray of glasses, her white pupils and wirey lashes making him immediately uneasy. Geeze, even the bourgie are getting chromed out now. Jungkook shakes his head. “It all looks the same to me. Expensive. Too fucking draga for a noca like me.”
“Well, it’s not. And they’re pricey for a reason. Get this,” Namjoon leans closer, Jungkook instinctively mimicking the motion. “Word on the street—”
Jungkook rolls his eyes. “You need to have actually seen the streets to be able to say that, Namjoon.”
“Gonk,” he insults Jungkook dismissively, the jewels on his fingers sparkling prettily. “Anyway, word in the high rises is that there are more elite class droids being revealed today—well, just one actually.”
“And I care because…?”
“For a bithead you’re awfully uninterested in the latest droid updates.”
“I like computers and tech, not robots designed to replace the human species.”
“Whatever.” Namjoon accepts another glass of champagne from a passing droid waiter, grabbing a second glass for Jungkook. “So, you know my pair were one—well, two, of a kind. Supposedly, tonight’s reveal is even more advanced.”
“What’s more unique than your set that somehow refuse to be separated? Robots, mind you,” Jungkook cringes, clearly uncomfortable, “that physically won’t let their handlers separate them and somehow manage to not let rippers hack into their dataset and reprogram them. That doesn’t concern you? Those things have a mind of their own and are in your home, Namjoon.”
With another wave of his hand, Namjoon simultaneously dismisses Jungkook’s legitimate concerns, as well as activates his champagne glass which bubbles frantically before turning lavender and emitting a hazy mist. “Nova. I love this stuff.”
“It’s just to make you spend more bank.” Jungkook takes a tiny sip of his champagne for no other reason than he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Droids and ‘borgs run rampant in the amphitheater, lavender eyes and shiny metal gleaming respectively. He finds it ironic that the droids look more human than the ‘borgs do and he honestly can’t wrap his head around why someone would willingly chrome up to the point of having more chrome than flesh or add bunny ears when no one has seen a fucking rabbit for over 20 years.
But alas. It’s the nova thing to do and he supposes when you have literal bank to burn, why not install weird animalistic appendages or mechanical pieces that replace flesh and bone? Being 100% human is sooo last decade.
Namjoon taps his shoulder, whispering excitedly. “It’s starting.”
Hoseok jogs up the steps to the stone curved stage, magnificent smile stretched across his impossibly perfect face. His hair is styled differently now, spiked and edgy, making him look extra nova for the Flushed crowd eagerly applauding his introduction. “Welcome ladies and gentlemen and droids of The High City! We have a large variety of product today so I’m sure I’ll be able to find each and every one of you a companion that will tickle your fancy. And for some of you, a bit more,” he winks wickedly, eliciting raucous laughter from the crowd already tipsy on artificial oxygen, champagne and whatever fancy, overpriced drug is on the market nowadays. Even with his connections in the Underground, Jungkook can’t keep up.
Hoseok’s smile dims for a nanosecond, but Jungkook catches it. He makes a point to pay attention to every move androids make around him, always on high alert. The android almost looks…sad and that is troublesome in and of itself. He’s an android. A robot. It shouldn’t feel sad.
But then that brilliant grin reappears and with a flourish of his arms, sheer baby pink sleeves billowing in the hot breeze, a curtain is drawn to reveal the evening’s first selection of lesser grade droids. Even these are out of Jungkook’s price range, not that he has any interest in making a purchase tonight, or ever.
It takes a while as bidding commences. Questions roll in as they are whispered into ear pieces or typed onto data boards anonymously, Hoseok answering each one charmingly.
An hour passes. Then another. Jungkook startles awake when Namjoon’s elbow digs into his rib. “Fuck! I’m not a ‘borg, Namjoon! Those are real bones, ya know.”
“Such a baby,” he mutters in response, tapping their table’s center light board. A hologram appears, an overtly sexy ‘woman’ coming into focus, thick purple lips smiling seductively.
“How may I help you gentleman tonight?” She asks, her voice loud and clear though shielded from the other patrons.
Namjoon smiles politely. “Two more drinks please. And a stay-awake for my choom here. Also, any way we can get a little closer for the finale?”
The hologram shimmers with a flutter of her lashes. “For you, Mr. Kim, anything.”
In just a blink of an eye, the floor shifts and their entire booth is smoothly propelled to the front of the amphitheater. Several other booths are en route while most of the others are drifting toward the back of the theater.
Jungkook now notices how luxurious the approaching booths are, larger than the others with dazzling designs and littered with empty champagne bottles. There is another whirring sound that fills Jungkook’s good ear and a sound barrier materializes out of nowhere, encasing their booth for additional privacy. They can still see and hear everything around them but each booth has now been transformed into a pod with ultimate privacy. Clearly, they have reached the point in the auction that caters to the Flushed of the Flushed. Which Namjoon is, of course.
A small square to Jungkook’s left slides open, revealing a single orange pill in a tiny crystal dish. The dish alone probably costs more than his EMV and he ignores the pill when Namjoon gestures toward it. Jungkook doesn’t like taking unnecessary pills, especially considering he’s pretty sure the manufacturers aren't being as honest about the ingredients as they claim.
“We have a real treat for you all today, preem product, more advanced than you can imagine and configured to be your ult companion. Ladies and gentleman, meet serial number V301295.”
There’s a simultaneous hush amongst the crowd in the back along with audible gasps as another curtain is pulled back to reveal the main course.
“V301295 is the creme de la creme,” Hoseok boasts as each pod’s light board begins running the android’s stats. Battery maintenance, or lack thereof, intelligence level, built in proficiencies, possible capabilities, and more stats light up their screen. Jungkook flushes and looks away when the android’s full frontal and rear body scans appear.
The transparent screen next to Hoseok blinks rapidly as abstract symbols begin rolling in.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
The bids are flying in and Jungkook’s eyes widen comically making Namjoon laugh. “Such a novice,” the older giggles.
Hoseok strolls fluidly back and forth along the stage, the throat mic making his soft voice echo throughout the cavernous space. “V301295 is the first Machine Automated Nanomech droid, or M.A.N., in existence. Totally customizable from physical aspects to personality or capability. Need someone to watch your kid? This is your M.A.N. Need to meet that deadline? Your M.A.N. can meet it for you! Lonely? Well, you get the idea,” he winks and Jungkook can no longer look at that pristine face with its dead lavender eyes.
When he turns to the droid, well, M.A.N. , his mouth goes dry. He’s tall for a bot, several inches taller than Hoseok and perhaps a bit taller than Jungkook. Black hair is perfectly coiffed, an unbuttoned sheer periwinkle shirt that hits the droid at its knee shows just enough faux flesh to make Jungkook’s stomach tighten.
He’s fucking gorgeous. All droids are but this one is…different.
“Impressive right?” Namjoon whispers, though no one can hear him other than his choom. “He’s an elite M.A.N., several levels up from the set I have. Look at him.”
Jungkook can’t stop looking at him—it. The android stands there stiffly, arms hanging at his sides, expression blank and non-blinking. He looks like a porcelain doll.
And then he turns his head slightly, blinks, and stares Jungkook straight in the eye. The human startles, dropping his glass all over himself.
The bids keep the stage’s light screen flickering nonstop, the symbols making Jungkook dizzy as Hoseok keeps prattling off impressive statistics; V301295 stares at Jungkook blankly. Namjoon hands Jungkook a neon wand that once waved over his shirt, erases all signs of the previous spill, and leans forward to pass the inside of his wrist over their table’s bank terminal.
“What’re you doing?” Jungkook asks curiously. Why would Namjoon need another android when he already has two? No one has three. No one can afford three.
The taller man smirks knowingly. “Mind your business, kiddo.” He waves his wrist several more times, his personally designated bank symbol flashing on the screen and Hoseok’s grin grows.
“We have a real battle here ladies and gents! Who will reign supreme? Who will become the master of V301295? Did you lose a loved one in the last war? Or the last raid? Let your M.A.N. fill the gaping hole left by mere humans. Spin, dearest,” he encourages the android. “Let them see you.”
The M.A.N. obeys, one foot crossing over the other as it slowly spins, giving the audience ample time to ooh and ahhh over every attribute. It’s perfect, as are all androids, but this one is so perfectly perfect, Jungkook can’t tear his gaze away from the captivating machine that somehow looks even more human than most humans nowadays. It moves somewhat robotically, a bit stiff while maintaining an air of elegance at the same time. When Hoseok approaches the droid with his assigned lightboard, it begins to glow and with a tap of Hoseok’s perfectly manicured nails, the elite droid relaxes noticeably and…smiles.
Jungkook takes in a sharp breath, “fuck.”
“Oh shit,” Namjoon’s eyes widen, finding himself impressed even for a top tier Flushed. “He’s…wow.”
“It’s just another bot, Namjoon, nothing to get excited about,” Jungkook mutters, trying desperately to mask his interest. Apparently, he doesn’t do a good job because his choom merely snorts, waving his wrist over his bank terminal twice, causing their pod to light up and vibrate.
“What the fuck is going on?”
Namjoon grins smugly. “We’re about to win that M.A.N., that’s what’s going on.”
“You have two back in your ward. What could you possibly need a third for?” Jungkook gawks, a grimace marring his face. “Wait, maybe I don’t want to know.”
“Don’t be crude,” Namjoon frowns, waving his wrist again, causing their pod’s vibrations to intensify. “You know I’d never turn my androids into dolls. No, this…” his wrist swipes across the terminal three times in a row causing a loud chime to echo in the open space, surely ringing so loudly, even the nocas miles away can hear. “No, he, ” his head nods toward the stage, “is for you.”
“M-me?” Jungkook stutters, bewildered. “I don’t want it! And that’s an obscene amount of bank for some scrap metal and—ahhh!” He shouts in surprise when V301295 suddenly appears to his left inside their pod. Jungkook shrinks away when the android locks eyes with him.
“Jeon Jungkook, a pleasure to meet your acquaintance. Hoseok will provide you with all the details of your purchase and we will be united soon. Thank you for your trust and companionship.”
Jungkook sits frozen, awkwardly leaning away from the droid as if it had a sickness that could be caught. When Hoseok materializes in front of him in the form of a full-length hologram, Jungkook shrieks. The droid tilts its head curiously.
“Oh, Kim Namjoon! Aren’t you quite the collector?” Hoseok openly flirts, making Jungkook hold back a gag. “And so generous!”
Namjoon smiles easily, always ‘on’. “For my preem choom here! Jungkook has this inner ear issue and he’s lied to himself so much that his isolation is a choice, he’s beginning to believe it!”
“First of all, you p.o.g., mind your own business. My med stat doesn’t need to be broadcasted. Second of all, I’m not isolate—”
“Lies, but continue,” Namjoon retorts factually.
“I’m not isolated,” Jungkook restates between clenched teeth. “And third of all, this…machine is not coming home with me.”
“What is pee oh gee?” Taehyung asks slowly, interrupting as if no one was speaking and Jungkook’s eyebrows knit together.
Hoseok smiles with a soft chuckle. “Don’t mind him. He’s new. Fresh off the belt! We’re typically programmed to converse with the Flushed. I will submit a request to have his vocabulary and mannerisms catered to your class.”
“The fuck?” Jungkook glares at Hoseok and then Namjoon. “What kind of sewer rat does this thing think I am?”
“Would you like for me to rectify your inner ear issue, Jungkook?” The droid’s deep voice makes Jungkook pause, the way it said his name sounding oddly…familiar.
“Jungkook’s just calling me a piece of garbage,” Namjoon interjects, clearly trying to distract everyone from the awkwardness. As if robots could feel awkward.
And yet, Hoseok does, or at least he appears to feel awkward, hands twisting, a thin pink lip pulled between his stark white teeth. “I’m sorry for my fault,” he rushes to say, glancing at the droid and then Namjoon. His arms drop stiffly at his sides, face going slack before brightening up again unnaturally. “We will reset your M.A.N. and he’ll be ready for you in 45 minutes. You can have him sooner, for a fee of course.”
“Why would I need it sooner than that?” Jungkook expects the all-knowing Hoseok to provide him an answer, but alas, that does not happen. Instead, Hoseok’s perfect face holds his perfect smile, perfect lavender eyes blinking artificially.
Namjoon lowers his voice, leaning in. “Some buyers convert their purchases to…dolls.”
Hoseok’s frozen smile flickers.
The black-haired expressionless droid looks at Namjoon and then Hoseok, eyes landing, and remaining, on Jungkook. “Am I your doll?”
Jungkook sputters, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. “You’re not—it’s not—my anything!”
“But I am your M.A.N.,” the droid corrects simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and his new owner is a complete moron.
Which he just might be because Jungkook just stares at his own hands, internally begging Namjoon to get him out of this mess.
“What he means,” Namjoon begins delicately, “is that you are not a doll at all. Nor will you ever be one.”
“Then what am I needed for if not to fix his inner ear or for his endless pleasure?”
“En-endless?” Jungkook stutters, nervously bouncing his knees. He needs to get out of here, stat. “I’m not taking it.”
“He’s yours,” Hoseok states with a flat smile.
“It is his,” Jungkook jerks his head in his choom’s direction.
“There are no transfers, gentlemen,” Hoseok’s hologram smiles politely. “You submitted your bid as a donation to Mr. Jeon Jungkook. This M.A.N., belongs to him and he is free to do with him what he so desires.”
“Keep it,” Jungkook says quickly, shaking his hands out in front of him. “I don’t desire anything!”
“Isn’t that the problem, Kook?” Namjoon asks softly, eyes compassionate and questioning and Jungkook glares at him for what he is sure isn’t the last time tonight.
“No returns.”
“And if I don’t want it?” Jungkook asks, looking between his choom and the hologram. “What do I do if I don’t want it?”
Namjoon frowns.
Hoseok blinks. “No one has ever…refused a droid of any kind. Especially a M.A.N.”
The droid is still staring at Jungkook and it makes the human squirm in his seat. He just wants to leave and go home, alone.
“I am yours.”
Three words. Three very odd, very surreal words and the droid is so matter of fact, Jungkook is beginning to wonder if he should just accept the preposterous gift.
“It’s settled then!” Hoseok claps excitedly, suddenly converting back to his usual bubbly self. He shakes his finger at Jungkook, face contorting into an adorably angry pout. “No takesies backsies!”
He doesn’t want to look to his left because he knows what he’ll see, that M.A.N. thing just staring at him. And…yup. It’s still staring and Jungkook is suddenly very aware that this thing standing so close to him is wearing an almost completely translucent top completely opened, golden, taut faux flesh on full display. Its torso tapers at its slim waist, its body heat emanating so that Jungkook can actually feel it. Body heat?
The M.A.N. Bends to whisper in Jungkook’s ear, hands stiff by his sides. “I will give you some space while I am reprogrammed. I hope you will be pleased with my service…in whatever way you may need me.”
It smells amazing. And then the droid stands straight and steps out of their pod, immediately engulfed in darkness.
Jungkook hadn’t realized he was holding his breath and he gulps the artificial oxygen greedily once they are alone again and the hologram has also exited.
Namjoon slaps his back with a grin. “Well, like it or not, you got yourself a M.A.N.”
⊹ ˚₊‧ 𖥔 🦾 𖥔 ‧₊˚ ⊹
So, here is Jungkook standing awkwardly in the middle of the entry room, hands in his pockets with his very own M.A.N. that is currently mimicking his stance.
“You can, uh, go to the other room and…rest?” Jungkook really should know more about the process considering he was lectured for over an hour about how ‘spectacularly unique’ his M.A.N. is. Even Namjoon had grown weary after such a long Transfer of Possession.
The whole ‘T.O.P. process’ was ridiculously detailed and, in Jungkook’s opinion, utterly unnecessary. One would think the auctioneers would run a background check, determine if Jungkook had enough bank to cover repairs or upgrades even. But no.
The questions ranged from skin and hair color preference to physique, tenor, interests and some more unsavory questions Jungkook was sure to shut down immediately. He wasn’t looking for a doll. Or a M.A.N. for that matter.
Jungkook would have fought Namjoon harder if he knew he would be exposed to such scrutiny. The judgmental stares of the humans who didn’t understand why he was turning down the free trial pleasure upgrade was even more concerning than the blank stares of prof-droids like Hoseok.
After inputting preference after preference and waving his wrist over the official deed, it was a done deal. He waited the designated 45 minutes for his companion to be hardwired to Jungkook’s specific personality and needs before he was able to haul ass out of there.
The droid didn’t look any different when it had stepped out of the surgical ward, though now it was dressed considerably more appropriately, donning pressed black slacks and a thin v-neck sweater that made it look handsome and distinguished.
“You have an EMV,” it states, matter-of-factly. “Would you like me to drive us to your conapt? I am programmed to operate moving vehicles of any kind.”
Jungkook shook his head aggressively. “There’s no way I’m letting a bot drive me anywhere.”
“You’re very rude.”
“Ru—” Jungkook scoffs. “You’re a droid.”
The droid stands firm, a polite smile now completely erased from his face. “I am a M.A.N. And you are rude. Shall I drive or not? You have had several glasses of champagne—”
“Over an hour ago,” Jungkook lies.
“It is pointless to lie to me,” the droid says. “Your heart rate and heat levels indicate you are not being truthful. And the alcohol levels in your blood are .7 over the legal limit for a bourgie. Your body metabolizes alcohol rather slowly for someone your size and build.”
“Being undernourished will do that to a human ,” he seethes, glaring at the beautiful robot in front of him.
“Humans are weak and need our assistance. I am here to serve you.”
“So do your job, droid, and shut it.”
“I have a name.”
“Whatever, follow me.”
“I should warn you that—”
“Listen, you’re a droid and I’m your handler so what I say goes.”
“I am not a ‘droid’, as you say. I am your M.A.N.”
“You are not a man. You are a droid. A robot. Just a hunk of metal and bolts and programming.”
“You are correct in saying I am not a M.A.N.”
Jungkook sighs with relief but is quickly interrupted by the machine. “I am your M.A.N. And furthermore, I have a name. You named me yourself, Jungkook.”
“I didn’t—” the human huffs, agitated. “I had to.”
“V. I like it. It’s quite nice. Fitting, even.” V cocks his head to the side as if sizing up Jungkook and the human bristles. “But if that is what you desire, you can drive.”
“Oh, well since I have your permission, I guess we can leave now,” Jungkook says, voice dripping with sarcasm.
V waits one second, taking in Jungkook’s tone, before walking past him abruptly. “Yes. We may leave now, human .”
“Is that…sarcasm?”
“You are perceiving the tone of my words correctly, Jungkook.”
“You’re a droid. Shouldn’t you be nice and—”
V sighs, seemingly tired with all the back and forth. “I am not a droid. I am a M.A.N. Your M.A.N. But if you choose to keep calling me ‘it’ or ‘droid’ then I shall address you as your internal makeup, as well… human.”
Human. It’s said almost like a cuss word and as Jungkook watches the droid—M.A.N. brush past him, he can’t help but feel like it’s also an insult.
The ride back to his conapt is silent, to Jungkook’s relief. The feel of V’s hard body pressing against him is irritating and Jungkook feels like he can’t relax. Why is a machine so…warm? It’s not supposed to be warm. Even Namjoon’s pair are several degrees cooler than the average normie.
But not V. V feels hard, but with muscle, not metal. It’s faux flesh feels so real and the way it holds onto Jungkook firmly yet gently, so close that his inner thighs cradle the contours of Jungkook’s ass make it so Jungkook speeds home even faster, if for no other reason than to get away from the droid.
“I will go to my designated quarters now,” V states after the quick tour as Jungkook’s conapt is not large at all, barely comfortable for two people—one person and a droid, that is.
Jungkook had removed his light boards and computers when they first arrived, instructing the droid to not look. He didn’t need those violet eyes seeing something they shouldn’t.
V turns to Jungkook with a smile so fake, the human knows he’s being looked down upon. “I will download the rest of the personalized coding you require and when you awake in the morning, I will be your perfect companion, tailored just to your liking, Jungkook.”
Supposedly. Jungkook grimaces. “Just…go.”
“I will recharge now in my quarters. If there are additional updates or add-ons you desire, please reach out to my handler.”
Once V is securely locked in its new room, Jungkook runs to his room and boots up his computer, waiting impatiently as it whirs and grinds awake. Please please please. The screen blinks, black. Come on, Vante, he internally begs. Green static appears and disappears.
There is no text.
Until there is.
Vante:
Vante is gone.
You’re next.
Jungkook slams the board shut, swinging to his main light board and stripping the internal code to erase anything he may have missed.
“Are you in need of my assistance, Jungkook?”
Jungkook spins around, heart racing and brow beaded with sweat. “Go!” He bellows. “I don’t need anything from you!”
“As you wish…human.”
And just as he anticipated, when he wakes up the next morning, Jungkook is greeted by V with a beautiful smile and his designated nutripill and sludge. V looks even softer and feels even warmer than last night. His movements are less jerky, becoming more and more human-like as time passes. Jungkook doesn’t like it. Doesn’t trust it.
And he never will.
⊹ ˚₊‧ 𖥔 🦾 𖥔 ‧₊˚ ⊹