^ Casper ^
[A/N]: Oh, beforehand. If you feel the need to point out spelling, or grammatical errors, or anything doesn't seem logical to you. Just keep it to yourself alright? The book is done, I'm not going back to fix stuff because I have other books to work on. Pointing this stuff out just makes me want to delete the book, alright?
Casper
The room was cold. Dark. The only sounds to be heard were the occasional whimper and soft cry from those frightened of what was to come. I could hear the announcer now, clear as day. "Twenty thousand. Do I hear Twenty five? Going once. Going twice. Sold!" A slam of the gavel followed.
This is what mankind has been reduced to, humans no longer being the dominant species. It all happened around five years ago, when a war broke out between man and werewolf. They were sick of living in the shadows and desided to rise up, all hell breaking loose from there. Lots of people were killed.
Everyone over the age of thirty were slaughtered, the rest taken as slaves. Werewolves had it in their heads that those over thirty would be to difficult to train, would always be rebellious. So that went most of the population. I'm not sure how many people are still alive, if you could call this living at all.
Anyway, the remaining few were divided into warehouses, based on a person's age and gender. I am in Warehouse 13, for boys age sixteen to twenty. And soon enough I'll get moved to Warehouse 14, once I turn twenty-one.
I had my back pressed against the cage wall, my knees had to be bent to fit but luckly there was enough room that they weren't pressed into my chest like some of the others. I rested my arms across my knees, head falling back as the cold of the metal seeped through my ragged shirt and bit at my flesh.
This cage was probably ment for a dog, or some small circus animal and not a human. But werewolves don't really give a crap about being humane.
I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the steady shallow rhythm of my own breath. Which was hard to do when there was a good twenty other people in the room with me, all anxious and scared. The room was small, but it was big enough to line about twelve cages along the wall of either side. Some of them were empty. All will be by the end of tonight.
Because today is auction day, and all slaves must go.
A wail broke through the air, and I couldn't help but sigh. This again? I tilted by head slightly to glance at him. He was in a cage across the room from me, and had to be no older than sixteen. The boy started to full out sob, tear tracks cutting through the dirt caked on his face. Yes, cry. I wanted to scoff, they'll take pity on you for sure.
The only door to the room was suddenly opened with a creak, the blinding light that flooded in made me flinch. Then, the door was closed again, after two men entered. Both of them werewolves, trusted with the task of training and handling the slaves. The slave trainers. After all these years I still don't know their names, not that I care. The first one I referred to as Scar.
He was a big fucker. About six feet and four inches of pure muscle that one. Long, untamed black hair, and eyes to match. He has a scar starting from his left temple that goes all the way down to his chin. The other one, I call Snake. He wasn't as tall or buff as his companion, but he was strong.
His brown hair was slicked back with a classic greaser look. Vibrant green eyes and sharp canines reminded me of a viper. It didn't help that he has a snake tattoo on his neck.
Why a werewolf has a fucking snake tattooed on his neck, I'll never know.
Snake strided over to the crying boy's cage, his movement smooth and dangerous. "Stop fucking crying." He hissed, unlocking the cage before grabbing the kid and hauling him out. The boy nearly fell flat on his face, didn't get a chance to right himself before Snake yanked him to his feet. The kid cried out, his body trembling. "I said shut up," Snake said, raising his hand ready to strike.
"Hey, what's your zodiac sign?" I asked, watching as Snake looked over to me, lowering his hand. I smirked, "'Cause if I had to guess, I'd say you were a fucking cancer." His eyes narrowed, look downright murderous. Snake stalked over to me, the kid long forgotten and shaking in his spot. My cage was unlocked, door flying open before I was being yanked around like a damn yo-yo.
"You better listen to me and listen good, you worthless sack of shit. I am sick and tired of dealing with you, if you don't get sold tonight you're dead." I clicked my tongue, "Much like your sex life." My head flew to the side, a loud crack filling my ears. The metallic taste of copper filled my mouth; something warm and wet dripping down my chin.
I was thrown back in my cage, the door slammed shut before I had time to react.
My head whacked against the back of the cage, causing black dots clouded my vision. When I could finally see clearly, the slave trainers and the kid were gone. "Here we have Slave 5362c, sixteen years old. Perfect for any and all of your needs. Let's start the bidding at ten thousand." The announcer said. And the bidding begun. The bid getting higher and higher until, "Sold!"
Dumb and Dumber came back and snatched up another kid.
And this is how the night went. All until I was alone in the dark. The door burst open, Snake and Scar came in. Snake unlocked my cage and dragged me out, his face inches from mine. "Remember what I said."
"Just because my IQ is in the single digits, doesn't mean I'm retarded?"
He sighed heavily, as if fighting back the urge to strangle me. "If you don't get sold, you're going to wish you were dead." He warned, his grip on my arm a little too tight. Then I was suddenly thrust into a hard chest. I grunted at the impact, before Scar's large hand grasped me by the shoulder and escorted me out of the room.
The light was blinding, making me stumble as Scar brought me out onto the stage. My eyes adjusted after a few blinks, and I could see the crowd before me. It was big. There had to be at least thirty filthy, flea-ridden werewolves here, all of them looking me over.
As if trying to assess if I would be the right slave for them. I scoffed at the thought. These fucks may be the dominant species, but I refuse to bow to the likes of them. I've had countless owners over these years, and each one returned me within two weeks time.
The announcer, an older werewolf. Had a large pot belly that could put department store santas' to shame. A second chin, and a balding head. He offered the crowd a warm, completely fake, smile. "Here we have Slave-" I cut him off, having heard this a million times before I knew this song and dance by heart, "2513a. Nighteen years, with a rebellious streak. Who would like the chance to tame this little spitfire?"
The announcer shot me a dirty look. I could see the trainers shifting from there place at the back of the stage, probably fighting the urge to punish me where I stood for such an outburst.
"Eyes down and mouth shut." Those were the rules when it came time to be sold. Those were rules I didn't give two totaling fucks about.
"Let's start the bidding at ten thousand." The announcer said, that false pleasantness present once more. The crowd was silent. So silent in fact, I would probably be able to hear a pin drop across the room. "Five thousand?" The announcer tried. Nothing. "A hundred? Do I hear a bid for a hundred?" Personally I didn't hear anything. But I could feel the growing tension.
"Hell, I'll give the little bastard away for a nickle."
No one bid, and the announcer turned that hateful look to me once more before gesturing at the trainers. Their presence loomed over me moments later, and I suddenly felt like I was knocking at death's door.
A surprised gasp left my lips only to turn to a pained one moments later, as one of the trainers knocked my legs out from underneath me, the other forcing me down by a strong grip on my neck. My knees collided with the hard floor, sending shocks of pain up and down my legs.
The little rags I called a shirt were ripped from my body and thrown somewhere else, my breathes became tight and labored.
Hot breath washed over the side of my face, as I stared forward blankly. "I warned you." Snake whispered, venom seeping into his voice. Then, he disappeared from my side, leaving me to wonder what was going to happen next. I heard it cut through the air, then that harsh crack once it hit, a moment before I felt the sting.
The whip. The sting was sharp, the pain that followed the sting was worse. Like a small fire flaring from the point of impact. Crack another sting, my back was burning. I bit my lip, trying not to cry out. Not wanting to give these mutts the satisfaction. Crack. I failed.
My eyes screwed shut, waiting for another strike when "Ten thousand! I bid ten thousand!"
Everyone seemed to have gone still in that moment. The announcer seemed to recover from the shock first, "You want to buy him. . . for ten thousand dollars?"
"Yes." The man answered. His voice was masculine, smooth. A calm fell over my body, and I felt myself going limp. As I thudded against the floor, it hit me. You're passing out you idiot.