Prologue:
They came in searching for a new employee, one that was reliable, on that wouldn't call in sick, lie, fall asleep on the job, or complain about salaries. This time, they were going to use a Third, a humanoid machine to do the job.
They were greeted by the front desk, and was sent off to where most of the Thirds were held. They didn't care about getting a brand new one made; a used one would do just fine.
They looked about at a few of the Thirds---some lonely looking. They needed a good personality, a smart and bold one. None caught they eye at first. They were mainly house Thirds here, not potential to be an agent. They saw even one Third that had been addicted to sex.
She approached the first man's side and latched onto his arm. "Go with you?"
The man smiled. "No, no dear. Sorry, we're not looking for you." He plied her arm off, and continued on, followed by his companion.
After a few steps, he noticed a young male Third standing alone with his head down. He was designed with a teenage appearance, with blonde hair, wearing khaki pants, a light pink shirt, and a vest.
"Can I help you with anything?" a woman asked.
"What about that one?" He pointed to the lone Third.
"You don't want that one."
"Why? Is he defective?"
"More like aggressive. It's strange really, he used to have a good personality."
"He might be what we're looking for. Ma'am, we're with the Criminal Justice Bureau, and we're looking for a Third to be apart of out crew."
"What kind of work do you want your Third to do?"
"I want it to be an agent."
"Sir?"
"I want it to do investigation work."
"I'm not sure if a Third can---"
"I'm sure it can."
"You might want to get one specially made for it."
"It's too expensive," the man said. "Anyway, I think certain ones have the potential." He looked at the Third again. "Let me at least look at him."
She sighed. "Alright, but watch yourselves."
They walked off to the Third. He had an expressionless face, head slightly ducked. The man ducked down to look the Third in the face.
The blonde-haired Third lifted his head, and looked at him. His eyes were bright, but angry. This Third had been through something.
"Report your name."
"Fuck off," the Third snarled.
"I suggest you look somewhere else." The woman returned.
"I don't think we have a choice. This one may be the only one who can pull it off. What's his name?"
"Quatre Raberba Winner," she said. "He was owned by Mr. Winner himself. Something happened to Quatre that changed him. He used to be really nice, but now he's got an attitude. Mr. Winner handed him to us after he got fed up with him."
The Third snapped his head towards the woman. "You think I'm not here?"
The woman rolled her eyes.
The man cleared his throat and extended his hand to Quatre. "Quatre, I'm Captain Bernard, head of the Criminal Justice Bureau."
"What ever it is you want me to do---maintenance work, janitor work---I'm not doing it."
"You won't be doing anything like that," the man said. "We're looking for a smart Third to be apart of the field investigators." The Third eyed him. "I like you. Believe it or not, I think you have the potential that we're looking for." He looked at the woman. "We'll take him."
"Rashid!" Quatre came bolting into the barrack. The giant of a Third turned to him as he ran to him. He grabbed him as he leapt into his arms.
"I don't want to go!" Quatre cried. "I don't know what they'll do to me. I'm afraid."
Rashid hugged him close. "You have no choice," he said sadly. "It's our obligation as a Third. We were made to serve humans and obey them. I know you tried to escape that fate, but we are what we are. Maybe it won't be so bad. Just do what they say."
Quatre cried in his arms.
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