A Futuristic Gamble Of Metal With Souls

NOTE: Hello fellow writers and readers! I got bored this morning and saw that there was a decent prompt today, so I was like ‘Hey! Why not?’ 😅 It isnt exactly the prompt 100%, but it has dialogue, and its in the future. I couldn’t think of a better title, sorry if its cheesy/ inaccurate (also forgive me if its bad, I kinda rushed through it.) Enjoy!!!! :)))))

Al sipped his turquoise margarita as he watched Wil’s calculating focus on the holoboard. After a few moments, Wil’s mechanical face contorted in distaste.

“Oh come on,” he said, “that has to be against the rules.” He rubbed his wired neck in frustration.

Al handed him the rulebook, and he flipped through it eagerly, searching for any indication that his adversary cheated.

Meanwhile, Al was smiling at him like a cat with a cornered mouse.

When Wil looked back at him, defeated, Al chuckled. “Have a little faith William, for it is not I who has anything to lose.”

Wil narrowed his glass eyes at him, “How do you know my name?”

“You told me it only a few minutes ago,” Al replied slyly with a smirk, bringing his glass back to his lips.

Wil could not recall this, yet there was a great possibility that he had just forgotten. He instead tried to bring his attention back to the board, but there was a uneasy feeling in his metal wiring that made it hard to focus. He surveyed the holographic game, and finally moved his piece to what seemed to be the only option left.

His hand lifted off the peice before he realized his mistake. Wil cursed.

Al grinned deviously. “Ah, ah, ah. My dear Wil, what have you done to yourself?”

Wil glared at him with an unyeilding hatred in his eyes, “I’m gonna die anyways! What does it matter if I lose my independence to a fucking Flesher before then?!” He slammed his automatic fist on the table in outrage, secretly scolding himself for not looking harder.

Al grinned brightly, “Oh I love it when you metal buffoons let off steam!” He swirled his drink giddily, “I can’t wait to add you to my collection.”

Wil’s eyes widened with shock. “Yo-your a collector?” his chair screeched as he pushed away from Al’s toothy grin.

“No my dear,” he said wickedly, “I am The Collector.” Then Al moved his peice one last time.

“I win.”

Wil tumbled out of his seat and bolted for the door.

Only to find that it was locked.