Chapter Text
The warehouse in front of Remus was nondescript, and uninteresting. To anyone who didn't know it was a typical abandoned building, left to rot and ruin as time moved forward; but Remus knew. He knew, far too well, the darkness that hid behind the broken windows, the pain that existed in those wall. Deep in his heart he hated this place, hated what it represented, hated what happened here, and one day he swore he would burn it to the ground, but not today, not yet. For now, he had to play his part. Remus licked his chapped lips, taking a step forward as he mussed up his hair, he put on a mask, crazed eyes and a twisted smile. Just because he had to be in this place didn't mean he would give them any ammunition about who he was or what was his truth. He wasn't a slaver, and he wasn't truly a buyer, he was a brother on a mission.
Walking into the warehouse, he heard the murmur of people fall, silence allowing his steps to echo across the concrete. Remus wore heavy laced up boots and tight metal studded jeans. When he first started coming to the auctions he attempted to blend in, but he had found standing out had it's own advantages. They called him new money; they rolled their eyes; but no one attempted to cross him. He had cemented his reputation as a bad boy that no one wanted to cross and it allowed him to help more people. The more these wealthy assholes were afraid of him, the less they were willing to spend to cross him. Remus sat in one of the metal chairs, picking the second row so he could be close but could also put his feet up no one would willingly cross in front of him. This was yet another way he asserted dominance. He had crafted this image over years, practicing at home in order to prefect a persona no one wanted to cross, he even wore heavy make up that disguised his features making him harsher and... wrong. Remus "relaxed", leaning back in his chair, waiting. The idea of selling humans made him sick to his stomach, people shouldn't be owned. He had to pretend he was okay with it. He had to pretend he didn't mind what was happening here. If he let his feral mask slip for even a moment, he might never find his brother.
Other people started to file in, leaving the chairs around Remus empty, despite their belief in luxury, many would prefer to stand than caught in close contact with him. The servants, butlers, and sometimes even slaves, would be spared his company, left to stand in the back, watched by the same guards who were posted to prevent escape. Remus hated this place, hated how people were treated like animals. Some of them volunteered, their autonomy given up for food and shelter for their families, others were captured because of debts but it still wasn't okay. How fucked up was their society when people had to sell their souls for food? Roman had been taken because of a debt, a debt that wasn't even his to pay. He had no right being taken, but their father had been a gambler. He owed close to a million to a man neither boy had met, and though Remus was willing to kill the man and go on the run, Roman had turned himself in as a way to protect his brother. That stupid goody two shoes wanted to do things the "right way", wanted to work off his debt and come home. Now Remus knew better. Once you were in the system, you didn't get out. The sickening feeling rattled it's way through his body as he remembered the last time he saw Roman, the last thing the two of them did together. Remus had gotten a rose tattoo while Roman got a sword, a set that matched in their own way but were also completely distinct and different. Roman had suggested it. He must have already made up his mind. The two brothers were the same, in so many ways, but also so vastly different. Remus was going to find him and beat some sense into that thick skull of his.
The "pageant" started, and Remus leaned forward, scanning those who were being led across the makeshift stage. He looked for his brother, was always looking for his brother, but when Roman was no where to be seen, he settled on a different target. Though he wished he could save every single person in that line up, he knew it wasn't possible. He had gotten a small sum of money from a wealthy benefactor and had grown it enough to be considered here, but he wasn't so rich that he could rescue each person that was marched along that stage. He would find a way to dismantle the system one day, but espionage and intrigue weren't his highest skills. He had to focus on what he could do. He had to rescue those who wouldn't survive. Remus knew what kind of people came to these events, they were the kind who didn't take kindly to rebellion, the kind who valued human life so little they were willing to purchase it like a new pair of shoes. So Remus looked for those who wouldn't behave, those who had fire in their hearts and anger on their lips. That was how he had saved Janus and Virgil, purchasing them both and clearing their debts, giving them back their autonomy. Janus was sarcastic, quippy, and already had scars from where his 'masters' had shown their irritation at his words. Virgil had been anxious, lashing out with screams and yells. He also had scars, far less visible but just as concerning. There were others Remus had been able to help, but once he set them up with some money of their own, they left. Janus and Virgil had stayed, one curious how things would play out, the other too anxious about being caught again to be willing to leave. Both had become a shelter over the past years, a home to fill the ever growing hole in Remus' heart.
Remus didn't think he'd ever experience a fire like theirs again, but then he saw it. The man stood tall, poised. There was intelligence and fury in his eyes and when the bidding started for him, Remus' hand was up before he had time to think about it. The moment he had, the man on the stage searched the crowd, leering at Remus but also squinting at him. Remus wasn't sure why but it took his breath away.
The auctioneer continued to call out numbers, Remus' eyes locked with those of the man on the stage. There were others, hesitating to raise the bid but Remus paid them no mind, not once did he put his hand down.
"Sold, to Remus Astonia," There was even a twinge of something in the auctioneer's voice, not that Remus cared. Some people involved in this horror had a bit of sympathy left, they still understood, to some extent, that what they were doing was selling humans, and those who did, tended to worry about the "slaves" Remus bought. At least, that's what he assumed. He had heard the whispers, the rumors about what he did with those he "purchased". It was uncommon for someone to cycle through so quickly, but Remus didn't care what they all thought. He wanted them to guess, wanted the rumors to keep flowing, the more he could keep people from figuring out his true motives, the more he could build a reputation that made people too afraid to look into it.
The man was dragged off the stage, and Remus watched for a moment as another was dragged on. He would need to build up his reserves again before the next auction, Remus knew he could only help one person per time and he hated that, but for now, he could at least help this man, the one with the fire in his eyes. Looking him over, almost lost in the sea of dark blue, Remus was pulled in. He would make sure this man was set free. Getting out of his chair, he walked passed anyone in his way, pushing them with his broad legs. Most people attempted to give him the space he demanded. Then, he went to the booth to pay, pulling out the phone he used only for this, only for the transferring of money. He paid for the man and he was brought out, wearing just as skimpy clothing as he had been wearing on the stage, though less extravagant. It left nothing left to the imagination and if Remus didn't completely understand how awful the power dynamic for this was, he would probably be ogling. He had been spoiled with Janus and Virgil, but he didn't expect luck to strike him a third time.
The man didn't seem impressed. He fought against the lead that was being used on him, struggling against the binds on his wrists. Remus knew this was going to be interesting. Rather than try to drag the poor man back to the car, he scooped him up, throwing him over his shoulder before walking away. He could tell people were watching and staring and that was the exact reason he acted this way. Hopefully, at some point, this man could forgive him.