Bleeding: Transaction

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August 28th, Clichy-sous-Bois


One of the panels was flickering, the fluorescence humming like a trapped fly. Buzz, buzz, stop. Buzz, buzz, stop. Over and over again the same measured flicker, casting the cramped elevator in a dingy yellow. Strobe, strobe, until you wanted to claw out your eyes. It didn't rank anywhere close to Marius' conception of Hell, but it was definitely up there.

He'd heard some of France's HLMs were decent enough, but this was not one of them. Marius would never have never imagined it was possible for anyone to live in a place so squalid, but he'd been wrong. People lived here. As they'd been waiting for the elevator a tired-looking woman with dark hair and a housekeeper's uniform had come through the front door. She'd stared at them for a moment, then fixed her eyes to the stained tiles and hurried to the stairwell.

Marius' guide had smiled his too-wide smile beneath his chauffeur's cap and said, "~They know the elevator is just for us. Sir.~"

Now, standing next to the diminutive man in the too-cramped lift, part of him still couldn't believe he was going through with this. A year ago Marius Laverne would never even have conceived of this, starting from the sort of neighborhood he'd been required to enter and working its way up from there. But then, there was a lot Marius Laverne had never conceived of a year ago.

Bing.

"~This is it,~" the man who had identified himself only as D said needlessly as doors shuddered open. The lift had stopped about half a foot too early. "~Mind your step. Sir.~"

Marius said nothing and stepped out of the elevator, letting D take the lead. Conversation with this piece of slime was the last thing he was interested in. The hall the doors opened into was strangely innocuous, painted same dingy yellow as the elevator. Possibly once the tile had been white. Somewhere down the hall a baby was crying.

The door D stopped to knock of a door just like all the others. The small man said something in a language Marius didn't understand, and the door opened.

The man who opened it was average height, average build, average everything, in fact. Medium brown hair cut to a business-like length, nondescript face and clothes... only a certain coldness in his eyes gave any indication he was anything but just another average Joe. He spoke again in that language Marius didn't know, and when the young man didn't respond, switched to accented French. "~You are late. Come in, quickly now.~"

D's hand between Marius' shoulderblades made his skin crawl, but he stalked imperious away from the little man and into the apartment. The door opened onto a small living area, sparsely furnished with battered furniture. Another man sat on the threadbare couch, watching television. He was much larger than the first man, head shaved and his arms heavily tattooed. 'Security' was written all over him, literally - his black t-shirt had the word emblazoned in French across the chest, slightly warped by the strain across the man's broad chest. His eyes flickered to Marius and then back to the screen, dismissively.

There was a short hallway leading off the main room, with several doors. Each had a heavy bolt and padlock on it. From behind one came a muffled weeping, which the other men paid no attention to.

"~My man here tells me we can help you,~" the first man continued, closing the door behind them. "~And perhaps I can. For the right price.~"

The boy tensed as the door closed behind him, but Marius reminded himself that he wasn't trapped. He was a teleporter. Open or closed, it made no difference to him.

The crying was harder to ignore. Marius tried to push it to the back of his mind.

"~Providing you have what I need,~" Marius replied. Although the distortion of the respirator meant it made little difference whether or not his tone was level Marius made the effort anyway. He would be a poor son to Cartier to be anything less than composed during a business transaction. "~Show me what you have. If it's what I'm looking for, then we'll discuss the price.~"

The man looked at him, obviously summing him up. Or perhaps deciding whether to use Marius as further 'stock'. The boy's French was perfectly accentless and he was obviously wealthy, so it was likely there might be a fuss if the scion of one of Paris' families vanished abruptly. "~This way,~" he said, jerking his head towards the hall and the locked doors. "~It's easier if we go to her. You'll understand when you see her.~"

Marius nodded and moved to follow. From the looks of the hallway he should be glad he couldn't smell anything. The man led him to the farthest of the doors and paused for a moment, removing a few keys hooked to a quality leather keychain from his pocket. Marius waited in silence as the man undid the padlock, eyes drawn to the way the light flashed off obviously new locks on the decrepit door. The sobbing had stopped at the jingle of keys.

Slotting the key into the padlock and unlocking it, the man flipped open the hinge, opening the door of what would have been a small bedroom in any of the surrounding houses. The window had been covered with an old blanket, plunging the room into close dimness and with an impatient gesture the man flicked on the light. The glare from the single uncovered bulb revealed the room had been divided into four with rough partitions made of plywood about three feet high. Three of these makeshift 'pens' were empty, stained blankets the only indication they had been used before. The other one...

At first she seemed to be dead. Lying limply on the floor amidst shreds of blanket, curled up into herself slightly and not moving. But then one hand twitched, the long talons scraping slightly against the plywood and leaving deep gouges. She was dressed, if that could be the appropriate word, in strips of leather buckled together, obviously someone's old fetish gear as it was far too big.

"~There you are,~" the man said with a nod in the girl's direction. "~A bit scrawny, but she's indestructible. Go closer if you want, just don't touch her. Skin's sharp.~"

Marius stared at the frail form huddled on the floor. Red skin, dark under the light of the naked bulb, as if it was trying to soak the shadows into itself. Despite the feeble movement she didn't seem to be aware of their presence. Her blank blue eyes were open, her face completely expressionless. Pretty in its way, from what his altered vision could make out, but the features seemed hard-edged and strangely fixed. As empty as a china doll's.

Marius' hands twitched. Not long ago he'd seen another face like that.

Getting closer wasn't necessary. He could perceive her mutagenic signature from here. However she looked, she was the right sort. And that's why he'd come here in the first place, wasn't it?

Orange eyes stayed trained on sightless blue for a long moment, then Marius turned back to the man. "~How much?~" he asked shortly.

The briefest flicker of the man's eyes betrayed his satisfaction. "~Five thousand Euros,~" he said flatly. The price was steep, but the boy was obviously in need. And he was willing to bargain. It wasn't like he had any other buyers - once he might have been able to shift her off to one of the freak shows, but after the Grgics had been arrested and jailed last year, that particular avenue had died to a trickle. And she was too dangerous with that skin of hers for the usual markets in teenage girls.

"~Done.~" His father would have disowned him for accepting the opening price. His mother, too, come to that. Marius didn't care. Nothing on earth could get him to stay another minute in this place with these people, let alone validate the encounter with diplomatic negotiations. Anyway, he'd withdrawn seven thousand.

Marius reached into his jacket pocket and drew out his wallet, counted out ten bills and handed them over. It was as easy as that.

The man's eyebrows shot up, but with the offer accepted, it wasn't like he could object. Or change the offered price. "~D, get the crate,~" he said, raising his voice slightly so the small grinning man could hear. To Marius he added: "~We'll get her packaged up for you. Go wait in the other room.~"

There was a thumping noise, the crate bouncing off the wall, before D and the other man appeared in the doorway. They were carrying a plywood chest, something you might transport cheap goods in, but when D lifted the lid he revealed it had been lined with metal, stainless steel by the look. "~Another satisfied customer,~" D remarked, his grin so wide it seemed the top of his head might fall off.

A grey hand shot out in a blur to grab the tiny man by the front of his shirt. Fabric snarled in Marius' grip as the mouth on his palm churned, convulsing with rage.

"~Not that satisfied,~" Marius spat, lowering his face to meet D's eyes with his own. "~Transportation fee was included. Find another way.~"

There was a rumble from the "security", but the seller held up a hand. "~You have to understand, her skin, it cuts through most things. This is the easiest...~" That orange glare switched to him, and he held up placating hands. "~We shall find another way.~" A moment's thought later, he snapped his fingers suddenly and spoke to D, still hanging helplessly from Marius' fist. "~Two doors down. Madame Guilliard. She has that old wheelchair, from when her husband was alive. Go fetch it.~"

"~Yes, sir,~" D croaked. Marius narrowed his eyes at him and let him drop. The little man scuttled away as Marius turned back to the motionless girl on the floor. Her face was still impassive, as if the men around her didn't even exist. Silent and unaware, huddled in her own little world.

"~What's her name?~" Marius asked, not lifting his eyes.

"~Name?~" The seller was surprised. Names didn't tend to feature in his trade. But he remembered something his supplier had said, about an overheard conversation, a pet name. He'd recounted it because it had been unusual. And somehow fitting. "~Penance,~" he said, thinking he'd be glad when he was shut of this monster boy and his freaky orange eyes. "~They called her Penance, when I took charge of her.~"

The front door opened and closed. D again, back already. Marius moved to the side to leave the doorway clear, eyes never leaving the girl.

Penance, he thought, regarding the empty blue stare as the tiny man pushed an ancient wheelchair into the room. Right then.

Let's get out of here.