Vox owned you, no, LITERALLY.

He had paid to have you, just to shove you into a glass, durable tube and study and observe you, you were somehow special to him.

You stood, unconscious in the glass tube as the bubbles in the cold tube flew past you, the cold water numbed you.

He tapped his pen against his clipboard, frowning and rolling his eyes, he gave up for now, sitting back down and crackling his fingers, leaning back and doing whatever, not even noticing you stirring awake.