The Auction

The door flew open. Everyone took out their guns and cocked them in unison; one can never be too cautious while staying out past curfew. A man with a hideous scar across his face walked into the dark, damp room, leaving the crowd muttering.

“Please forgive me, Lume,” said a teenage boy, bowing, and hiding his pistol.

The crowd mumbled their apologies and bowed as well.

“Never losin’ the element o’ surprise,” said the auctioneer. “One o’ these days you’ll definitely get shot with that behaviour o’ yours.”

Lume chuckled and kept on walking.

“Good to see you, comrade.”

With ease, he leaped onto the stage.

“This,” he pulled out a little black book out of the inner pocket of his jacket, “this is my life - my methods, my thoughts. Whoever walks home with it today is one lucky bastard, I’ll tell you that,” he laughed and the crowd joined in. “Our movement had begun with this. It gave us hope! And now it’s time to give back,” he looked down smiling as if being suddenly nostalgic. “The reserve price for the black book is $700.”

The room dived into murmur.

A woman with a patch on her right eye raised her hand.

A hot series of bids ensued and it was as enthusiastic as ever. People yelled and pushed. The entire place reeked of sweat and smoke and mold from the walls. Despite that, this was still a regular gathering spot for the growing rebellion.

“$1500!”

“The stakes are high, people,” the auctioneer belted. Then, he coughed spitting his mucus out on the wooden floor. “$1500 goin’ once…”

“$1800!”

“Keep ‘em comin’. $1800 goin’ once, 1800 goin’ twice…”

“Twenty thousand dollars,” a voice rung out from the back of the room.

Everyone turned their heads to see a tall woman with a pipe in her mouth. She walked forwards slowly, with power, her head hung low. People moved out of her way with caution and slight suspicion - nobody seemed to know who she was. A new comer always meant danger.

As she came closer to the stage, she looked up under her brows directly into Lume’s eyes. Immediately after, she yanked her head down and faintly smirked.

Lume’s face hardened, eyes widened, and jaw clenched as if he tried his hardest to suppress his anger.

“Twenny thousand goin’ once,” said auctioneer keeping his eyes glued on the woman, “twenny thousand goin' twice…”

The level of tension in the air was astronomical. Witnessing Lume’s reaction, a few comrades began taking out their pistols. Most of them put out their joints and stared carefully at the woman.

“Sold! To the lady with a ruby pipe,” the auctioneer slammed his prosthetic leg against the wooden floor.

As she approached Lume, she buried two stacks of cash in one of his hands and snatched the little black book out of the other.

The auctioneer started, “So comrades—”

“I’d like to say a few words,” the woman interjected with a calm yet mighty voice.

The crowd started to murmur again.

Lume exchanged glances with the auctioneer and then nodded his head in approval.

“Sure ma’am. Go ahead.”

They simultaneously stepped aside and left the woman centre stage.

She slowly reached into her pocket, and smirked. In response, the crowd reached for their pistols. Everyone except for Lume.

The woman pulled out a match, moved toward the wall behind her, and swiftly ran it against the rocky surface. She turned back to the group and scoffed, holding a lit match in her hand.

All eyes were on her.

She brought the match closer to her face and lit her pipe, inhaling the smoke with deep satisfaction. Then she opened the little black book.

Her eyes quickly scanned the contents of the pages in front of her. She grinned, and let the burning match fall, causing the book to catch fire.

“Son of a—“ the auctioneer darted towards her.

The woman turned her head and in an instant closed the burning book. She hit the limping man in the leg and elbowed him in his head, sending him to the floor.

The crowd cocked their guns and pointed them at her.

Lume was filled with rage.

“Hey!” he yelled and rapidly approached the woman.

“Get away from me, you dog!” She said in a condescending manner and pointed her gun at him.

People began to swarm the stage.

“What do you think you’re doing, huh?” exclaimed one of the men from the crowd.

BANG!

The man fell dead. People clamoured in fear and looked around to see where the shot came from.

“Let’s set out a few rules, alright? You move, you die. You shoot, you definitely die. You speak without being spoken to first, you die. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” people cried in unison.

“Good. Now drop your pistols.”

She puffed her pipe and exhaled gently.

Then she glanced at Lume.

“Get on your knees.”

He did not move. He just stared, his eyes beaming with anger.

“As you wish,” she lowered her gun and shot him in the leg.

“Ah!”

The leader fell to his knees and clenched his teeth.

“My name is Monroe. I work for Her Highness, as you might’ve guessed by now.”

She snapped her fingers and pointed at Lume. A red laser dot appeared on his forehead.

“Did you expect for your movement to thrive in a place like this?” She said while looking around. “It smells like… death.”

“You…” A man in the front of the crowd was shaking with anger. His jaw was trembling and tears were coming to his eyes. “You can kill us, but you will never be able to—”

BANG!

The man dropped dead on the ground.

Monroe stood with her pistol drawn and smoking.

“As I said, you talk without being spoken to, you die,” her lips tensed. “Each one of you has a choice to make. It’s quite simple, actually,” she approached the auctioneer that was lying on the floor unconscious. “Come with us. Join our forces, and all will be forgiven. Our Queen is a merciful queen, but you do not want to feel the power of her wrath.”

At once, the rumbling stopped. With silence came the sound of pounding hearts and a chaotic set of breaths. Terror captured people’s minds and their eyes drowned in tears. They looked like animals that knew they were up for slaughter. And they were too small to do anything about it.

“But, we’re all free people, of course, so you can choose not to surrender. But, there is a little penalty for that,” she pointed her gun at the auctioneer and shot him at once, “if you don’t comply, you die.”

They screamed in uproar.

“Enough!” She yelled and then took a long drag from her pipe. “We shall start now. You,” she spoke to Lume, “you are their leader, huh? You don’t really look the role, I’ll be honest. You’re too…” She thought for a second.” Clean. No wounds, all four limbs intact, you don’t stink either. It’s almost like… they do all the dirty work for you, am I wrong?” she giggled.

The people grew furious.

“How dare y—”

BANG!

The woman with a patch dropped dead.

“Do you people value your lives? If not, my mission will be accomplished pretty quickly,” she said under her breath and chuckled. “Lume, the great and mighty leader of the Underground Resistance Troupe, their head honcho,” she laughed, savouring the bitterness of the moment, “are you willing to die for your cause?” She leaned in slightly and whispered. “Be careful with your answer, your loyal dogs are watching.”

He spoke through his teeth, “I’d rather die than be your puppet.”

Monroe smiled, clearly satisfied with his answer.

“In that case, sweet dreams.”

Lume looked straight ahead. He was no longer angry. He was grieving.

The woman shot him and he immediately fell.

There was screeching and weeping and gnashing of teeth. People shook with fury and clenched their fists in anger. Their leader had died.

“Who’s next?”

The energy in the room soaked in resentment. It didn’t stop Monroe from asking one simple question, “are you willing to die for your cause?”

Sweat and tears dripped down the people’s faces and the presence of malice was almost tangible.

One after another, faithful comrades dropped like flies.

“Are you willing to die for your cause?” Monroe asked once again, locking eyes with a teenage girl.

The girl didn’t seem furious, or resentful, not even a little bit angry. She was terrified.

Her lower lip shaking, she whispered, “no.”

The man next to her couldn’t believe his ears.

“What’d you just say?” he yelled.

Monroe put her fist up, signalling her troop to hold fire.

“You would give in? After everything Lume has done for us?” the man looked threatening. “He died for you and you’re just going to spit on his grave? You should be the one dead!”

He kneeled for his gun, but Monroe took him out.

“Don’t worry, honey. You are under the Queen’s protection now,” she smirked. “Come sit by the wall. You don’t want any more blood on you, do you now?”

The girl walked towards the stage, still shocked and shaking. Once she approached the wall, she collapsed and broke down crying.

“You made the right choice.”

And so it continued.

When the last person standing complied, Monroe sighed. She took her last drag with an elated look on her face and then dumped the ashes on the floor.

“Congratulations! From the pathetic dogs that you are right now, you will turn into the Queen’s bloody hounds in no time,” she started to clap vigorously, but then stopped as abruptly. “The irony is, I cannot trust you.”

People by the wall looked at her puzzled. A new wave of fear suddenly dawned upon them.

“How can I be sure you will not abandon the Queen just as fast as you abandon this… dump?”

Monroe nodded at her officers, and they started to walk towards the weaklings.

“I lied. The Queen gave me the liberty to deal with you on my own terms, and, oh, believe me, I will.”

The officers formed a line right before the scared batch.

“Shoot them.”

They opened fire.

Shells rained down, and the deafening ensemble of clangs overshadowed the roar of the soon to be deceased.

The room fell silent.

“I didn’t know you were such a good actor, Agent Roz.” Monroe stuffed tobacco into her pipe and lit it.

Lume moved his foot.

He then slowly raised his torso off of the ground and stretched his neck as he sat down.

“Sorry for the leg, I had to make it convincing.”

Dragging on her pipe, Monroe walked towards the little black book and grabbed it, going through the burnt pages.

“What was in the book anyway?”

“Just…” He took off his shirt and tied up his bloody leg. “A plan to overthrow the Queen.”

He gasped in pain.

“Mm,” she took another drag and glanced at Lume. “You think they would’ve done it?”

“With my help they would have. They had a clear strategy.”

She stared quietly for a second.

“You do realize that I have to kill you, right?” Her face changed for fraction of a second. “You’re clearly one of them. I’ve seen the anger in your eyes, it wasn’t fake.”

“I see.”

She pointed her gun at him, cocked it, stopping for just a moment.

BANG!

Lume yelled and fell on his back.

He continued to groan, but Monroe’s face stayed indifferent.

“I’m gonna take this with me,” she waved the little black book, “I did pay twenty grand for it.”

As she was walking away, Lume mustered the strength to speak,

“You can kill all of us,” he grasped for air, “but… you will never be able to kill an idea.”

Monroe looked him straight in the eye and smiled.

“We’ll see about that.”