Lot #919
The collar dug deep against her throat, heavier than it should’ve been for someone her size. Metal, not cheap scrap but reinforced with rune etching that hummed like static against her skin. A low-voltage shock, a reminder: You are property. You are prey. Mae didn’t stumble when the guard shoved her forward. Not this time. Her bare feet slapped against the cold, damp floor as they dragged her down a hallway lit with flickering neon strips and hologram screens highlighting the next line of “merchandise.” Bodies. Half-living, half-machine. Twisted muscle, grafted limbs. Broken things in cages, slumped, snarling, twitching.
And her. The only one without metal fused to her bones. No warped genetics visible. No extra arms. No exposed plating. Just small. Human. Mostly. Except for the collar. Except the brand burned into her wrist: “Trash-Class. Contaminated Asset.” “Unauthorized Bio-Mage DNA: Property of Council Division 7. Dangerous. Approach with caution.” It glowed on the hologram display above her head as the guard shoved her into place. What they did not know was exactly how dangerous she was. Neither did she. The auction floor opened beyond the corridor like a corrupted cathedral, half scrap-metal ruins, half luxury. Velvet draped over rusted steel. Gilded chains hanging from the ceiling next to automated gun turrets.
Buyers sat in observation booths stacked along the walls, glass cages where monsters wore suits, draped themselves in silk, or fused themselves into throne-like machines. Their voices were low, but Mae felt them. Watching. Judging. Calculating. A drone hovered above, voice synthetic and cold. “Now presenting... Lot #919—unauthorized Bio-Mage. Female. Trash-class. Status: Defective.” The number burned red into the hologram above her. “Opening bid: fifteen thousand credits. Bounty is currently posted at sixty thousand alive. Thirty thousand dead.” Silence. Then murmurs.
“Sixty thousand? On her?”
“She is... tiny.”
“That cannot be right. Is that a glitch?”
“No, no. Look at the file. Zone Nine fire. Killed over two hundred. Malfunction event.”
“She did that? No... can’t be. She looks... breakable. Weak.”
A heavy laugh rolled through a far booth. Metal-scraped voices and bitter static followed. “She is a ticking bomb. Imagine what you could do with something like that in the right lab.” Mae looked straight ahead. Not at them. Not at anyone. Her fingers curled into fists so tight her nails bit skin. Her breathing was shallow, sharp, controlled. Do not show fear. Do not flinch. Do not fold. Her gaze drifted upward past the buyers. To the balcony tier meant for VIPs. Private booths, glass darkened, except for flickers of movement. Shadowed figures. More dangerous than the creatures below. And then... a presence. No, a pulse, something pulling. A shift in the air.
Her spine prickled as her eyes locked onto a figure standing at the edge of one of those upper windows. Tall. Still. Watching her. No glow of screens. No voice. No movement. Just a gaze that felt like claws dragging over her soul. She swallowed—a mistake. The collar buzzed, punishing her for the instinct. Her knees almost buckled, but she gritted her teeth. Still standing upright. You will not fall. Not here. Not now. Not for their pleasure.
~ VIP Booth – Upper Deck~
Ashar’s claws tapped once, then twice against the railing. His eyes didn’t leave the girl.
Small. Fragile looking. Weak by any practical measure. But the scent, the pulse, something in her resonance vibrated against every buried instinct his people had carried for generations. The lore whispered it. The old stories. “A vessel of ruin. A vessel of rebirth. Hidden in flesh. Shaped as prey, but harbinger of worlds.” It could not be. But every cell in him said otherwise. “...Mine.” The word was not spoken. It pulsed through his bones. “Sixty thousand...” Kaine’s voice was bored, skeptical, but with the edge of a predator noticing prey out of place. “For that?”
Sethis grinned, teeth sharp, as his fingers flicked over his hacked data pad. “Her ID chip glitches every time I scan it. That is not normal.” Riven said nothing. His glowing core pulsed once. Twice. The girl’s presence warped the energy around her, subtle but real. Lucien’s psychic chains tightened, unseen. A ripple of static moved through the ether. He whispered, “A fracture, living, walking.” Down below, the bids started. Reluctant. Then greedy. Numbers flashing. “Seventeen thousand.”
“Nineteen.”
“Twenty-two.”
“Twenty-five. No, twenty-eight.” Faster now. Not because anyone understood what she was, but because nobody did. And that made her dangerous. Mae lifted her chin, jaw clenched. Her eyes, sharp, angry, defiant, darted back to that upper balcony. She felt them. Watching. Hunting. Choosing. “No cage holds me.” The whisper was hers alone. “Not this time.” Somewhere in the walls, the power flickered. Just a pulse. Just a warning. And beneath the auction floor, the first explosive charge armed itself with a mechanical click. And before Mae could register what was happening. It started small at first—just a flicker of the hologram above her head. Then everything started sending sparks across the platform. Voices roaring over the static in confusion. That’s when it started. Everything flickered off one last time before the floor started to tremble.
