And, yet, no matter how much this proud Aurelian scans the room, his eyes always flicker back to me. It’s as if he can’t tear them away longer than a second.
Why are they so… aware, though?
It’s not fear – Gods be damned, what do those three towering warriors have to be afraid of?
No, it’s vigilance. They’re cautious.
I suddenly realize that none of the trio have weapons on them – the famous Orb-Weapons that their kind is famous for carrying.
That explains their situation a little more. Even bare-handed, those three towering aliens could probably kill every man in this theater – but with those otherworldly blades, they could probably conquer the entire city.
I next look at the Aurelian sitting to the leader’s left. This one has a strange energy to him. It’s as though he doesn’t want to be here. His hand twitches constantly, descending to his waist. I realize with a strange certainty that this alien is used to fondling the hilt of his weapon when he gets cautious.
It’s unsettling. Aurelians are famous for sitting like statues – for never betraying any hint of fear, or anxiety…
And yet this one is clearly even more cautious than his brutal battle-brother.
Why would these three Aurelians be so cautious?
For those supposed to be Rogue Aurelians, these three just look just like soldiers. None of them have a trace of stubble on their strong jaws, and the three of them sport matching short-cropped fades. I’ve seen pictures of Aurelian Warriors and these three resemble any of their kind; fresh from the lineup of a military company.
If they’re Rogue, they haven’t been for very long.
Behind them, barely visible through the glare of the searing spotlights, sit a mass of regular, human males. I’m grateful for them being there. The idea of a closed auction – with just the Bullfrogs in attendance – had been terrifying to me. Perhaps not all of us would have been sold if that had remained the case; but those of us who were would end up in the warty, slimy hands of those disgusting creatures. It would be like a game of Russian Roulette; with a single inevitable fate for those of us unlucky enough to be chosen.
Now, at least, better options present themselves…
If being sold to anybody could be viewed as a ‘better option.’
For me, personally, I know it would be best if I was sold to one of the other rich members of Lipa high society. They’re human, at least, and have business connections with Peter Paradooli. They might be more lenient to their new slaves out of respect for our former owner.
Although ‘might’ isn’t much to cling to.
My eyes turn to the middle of the stage, where an auction block has been erected. It’s a tall pole with handcuffs attached to it. There’s no way any of us could possibly escape if we were cuffed up there – and even if we weren’t, with guards outside the doors, any attempt to run would be short-lived.
That means the handcuffs hanging there must be largely symbolic. I guess buyers just like to see the wares trussed up and helpless in front of them.
“Aren’t they gorgeous?” The announcer addresses the eager audience. “Selected exclusively from Don Paradooli’s private stock of slaves, these beauties have never been touched – each one is fresh and virginal.”
There’s a stifled murmur of approval from the crowd.
“First up,” the announcer declares, “we have a sexy little number from the tropical planet of Danak. Her name is…” He laughs. “Oh, come on now – no one cares about that, do they? You can give her whatever name you like when you own her!”
Raucous laughter ripples across the audience. The Bullfrogs slap their wet hands together in amusement.
The three Aurelians, meanwhile, sit absolutely still; their faces like humorless masks.
The girl called Meela is dragged to the stage by the auction master. When she struggles, the crowd hoots and hollers at her.
The auction master drags her to the post and cuffs her. With her arms stretched up high above her head, the light blue pleasure dress she wears does nothing to hide her figure. Meena squirms and struggles as the bidding starts, and I can only watch in horror as she’s sold to a faceless man from the back row.
At least she’s been bought by a human, though – not one of those disgusting Bullfrogs.
I make a note in my mind as each subsequent woman is dragged up to the auction block.
First Jenna. Then Marissa. Tera. Allie. Ramanda. Ten’a...
Each woman is dragged up to the stage, nameless in front of this eager crowd. They’re not nameless to me, though. These women were my friends.
I swallow hard as Tera and Allie are both bought by the Bullfrogs. They try to fight, but guards grab them and pull them to the visiting Toads – who eagerly leash them, forcing the two terrified women to their knees.
Then it’s Danielle’s turn.
Oh, Gods…
I’m worried she’s going to faint again, but Danielle steps up to the block of her own accord. The auction master almost seems disappointed when she doesn’t struggle – and there’s a steely look to her eyes as he cuffs her to the post.
Is it steel in her eyes, though? Or lead?
I realize it’s the latter. Danielle’s given up. I can see from her body language that she’s not really there anymore. There’s no will to fight – her body is moving robotically; her mind absent.
The Bullfrogs mutter to each other, then raise their hands. They’re bidding on her.
Oh, Gods… I feel terrible for Danielle. She stands there, a blank look on her face, but I know at some point she’ll snap out of it, and if she’s been sold to the Bullfrogs then every fear and anxiety she’d had would have
