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Track 15 The Orphan

'This is a black market? Not at all what I expected,' Zoe thought. She peered through the heavily tinted windows from inside the limousine. It, along with several other cars, cruised down the suburban street—a snaking concrete road through an unkempt neighborhood. The sports car behind them sped up, slowing as they were just about to hit the bumper of their vehicle, honking for them to speed up. The building in the far distance loomed over the nearby businesses and homes. When they got closer, Zoe's eyes widened; she'd never seen a building that large. It was as if a convention center took up several city blocks. In a smaller building next to it, was the auction house, an invitation-only event. As they got closer, the roads became populated with pedestrians, all walking in the same direction. The cold sleet bothered none as it slammed them from above from the black sky. Zoe got out of the car first, looking around. The crowd of people paid them no mind and flowed around them as if they were a large rock sticking out of a river.

On the other side of the limousine, Gemo stepped out of the car, scanning the crowd intently. Seeing this, Zoe decided to look out as well. Not exactly sure what she was looking for regarding 'dangerous body language,' but no one seemed too interested in them. Zoe thought back to the many books she'd read on body language in the past.

"I'm looking for four items," Ayla said as they passed through the large glass doors. Inside was a brightly lit, bustling hallway. Stalls were set up on the walls as if they were street vendors.

"Do you know where they are?" Zoe asked.

"Kinda," Ayla shrugged.

After several minutes of walking, Ayla turned toward the door of a convention hall, its sign reading, 'Meat Market.' Ayla's eyes were alive, "Ohh!" She pointed, jumping up and down, "Here!"

"Meat Market?" Gemo muttered, not loud enough to be heard over the flow of people.

Zoe glanced over to a nearby vendor stand; on one of the plastic tables was a set of glass tubes, each filled with a murky dark red liquid. Her stomach contorted, seeing a chunk of white flesh floating in the concoction. She looked away quickly, going back to scan the crowd once more. Another shop had large black bags that were hung from meat hooks; eyes widening, she averted her gaze back to the crowd. People of all races and nationalities walked through—some she'd never seen, speaking languages she'd never heard. The whole room smelled of exotic spices—a pungent odor that seemed to stick to everything. They followed Ayla as she wandered; she kept insisting she knew where she was going. "Oops!" Ayla looked down. "My shoe's untied!" She bent down, grabbing her laces just as someone from the crowd carrying a long, sharp sword turned. Its blade sliced the air right where her head was half a second prior. Gemo tensed, pulling his hands from his jacket pockets. Zoe stared at the man with wide eyes, pulling a card from the box, but the man kept walking like nothing had happened, disappearing back into the crowd.

"Lucky," Gemo and Zoe exchanged looks.

"All done," Ayla said, hopping to her feet.

Taking a spontaneous detour, Ayla guided them into a crowded, dimly lit room. The lone light swung hesitantly over the room's center, where two sweaty men bound one of their arms to the other. A figure approached, bearing two large hunting knives on a velvet pad nestled in a wooden box. Each person seized a blade, plunging the room into hushed anticipation.

Gemo reluctantly tore his gaze away from the spectacle, scanning the room. Every pair of eyes was fixated on the unfolding event, blissfully unaware of their presence. Ayla's eyes sparkled with delight like she was watching the most amazing fireworks show in the happiest place on earth. His attention shifted to Zoe. Observing her with curiosity, he noticed her eyes glued to the floor.