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His mother has to do everything for him.

The eye was mounted atop the auctioneer's podium, two spindly arms- one bearing a gavel- sprouting from the sides and bending at the elbow toward the top. In some ways, Amy had to admire the directness of the design, the way it crammed the requisite components of an auction together... but at the same time, she couldn't help her offense at not being considered worthy of a real salesman.

But the track her leash was linked to was running out, she had no time to be thinking such thoughts. When it ended, the leash clicked away from her collar, leaving Amy free for the first time, bound only by the ceaseless cumulative pressure of every eye in the room on her pale skin. A nervous, sickly sensation crept over her, as she realized that she was expected to make those last few steps to the dais herself. While naked.

She had had nightmares like this, she was sure.

Amy briefly considered the crowd. How far would she get? Would the buyers bother stopping her? A naked woman tended to stand out in a crowd, but how long could she remain hidden before eventually being spotted? Would it be enough to get away?

Suddenly, something black and oily coiled inside her, complete with the return of that treacherous little voice: what would be the point? Even escaping wouldn't get her off of Selestene...

The collar around her neck suddenly felt so much tighter.

Amy took a deep breath, and raised her chin proudly. She had faced down Daleks, Angels, Cybermen and things too numerous and terrifying to name, she would not walk to her fate here with eyes downcast. These people were merchants in the trade of flesh, slavers, not worth fearing. Sander was a threat, compared to them. Sander had intent...

And you like his intent...

Again, the Judas whisper in the back of her mind. She quashed it down, as she took her first step toward the chasm her life was quickly becoming, but even so she couldn't help but wish for Sander's company right now. He seemed positively friendly, in the face of what was to come. But it had nothing to do with him personally.

She repeated that, once, twice... and before she knew it, she was upon the dais. The pad below her lit up as her weight pressed down on it, making graceful, curving shadows lick up her milky skin, accentuating just the right spots while revealing just as many more to the appraising eyes of the crowd. A tiny screen at the foot of the dais blinked an instruction at her, in insistent red letters: "Stand still, with your arms at your sides. Do not deviate."

Despite the prickling need to hide herself, Amy somehow managed to keep still, with waves of sheer, overwhelming observation washing over her. There was a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on to eternity, without the intervention of anyone in an official position, as if to give the audience time to view the new lot, from head to toe, and it was impossible for Amy to meet every challenger eye to eye. The feeling was entirely disorienting.

And then, it began.

There was bright blue light above her head, as above and all around her, holo-screens bloomed to life, her personal details scrolling down next to a her picture, the smile on her past self's face a hollow reminder that, once, she had achieved her happy ending.

'Amelia Pond,' The voice suffused the air, issuing so many speakers that it was impossible to determine any individual source, like a cage of silken, flowing sound. 'Lot number: 04396 Rating: Triple A. Time Active, Multiple Proficiencies. Beginning memory scan...'

Amy could barely concern herself with the whirring of some strange machine below her, transfixed with the social pressure of the crowd as she was. Even so, she felt like something had to happen next, if just to break the tension, and was only mildly surprised when she heard the voice in her head.

'Hello again,' Grelle's smooth ton

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