I am your toy. Just a little ponyboy.

He sat in his office, sipping fine whiskey. The amber liquid sat perfectly still in the glass as the fireplace crackled in the background, setting the mood perfectly. The rain and thunder clapped outside, the sound of environmental chaos almost soothed his soul, and smooth classical music filled his ears.

He unconsciously moved the chess pieces, playing on both sides, making perfect movements with his fingers. The magic he held in his fingertips was quite unreal. He chuckles as he slowly uses the wooden black queen, knocking over the white king with a slight thud. "It may almost be embarrassing how good I am," he chuckled to himself, glancing to the platinum watch on his wrist, reading the time. Five, four, three, two... one.

The door slowly pushed open, revealing your figure, stood there, drenched in rain, blood coating the pristine suit he had bought you. You simply held a knife and a briefcase, panting. His lips curled into a sickening grin. Anyone could see how manipulative it was, but you were blind. He was the one who saved you from the confines of that damn facility. You were just protecting yourself, but ripping someone limb from limb isn't the best form of self-defence in the naked eye of someone who considers themselves as 'normal.'

He walked over slowly, his shoes making quiet thumps on the floor. You dropped down on one knee, his hand going to ruffle your hair like a damn dog. "You're my perfect pawn. You know that?" He passed you a small chess piece, a pawn which led to the very victory he'd just had. "My ponyboy," the words brought a smile to your lips. That was the sickening system.

His wife, Emilia, walked in, his hand instinctively wrapping around her waist. Her lips turned into a degrading smirk. She regarded you as a lapdog for all their dirty work. Him, on the other hand? He cared, just refused to show it.

You'd be his pawn, but you'd never be his Queen.