A long time ago, your birth parents had compared you to a doll. Nowadays they wouldn’t be far off. You weren’t human in their eyes. The trainers, the artists, the auctioneers, the buyers. You were seen as a doll. A toy. Something to buy and then discard when they grow bored of you. It wasn’t your first auction, and it likely wouldn’t be your last. Although, being owned by a cartel queenpin is definitely a new experience.