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Phoenix by Raye Johnsen Chapter 2 Raoul sat back in the comfortable auction chair and relaxed. The first thing he had done, after that shocking visitation three weeks ago, was to follow Katze's advice and get a secretary. He smirked slightly, thinking of Adam's face when the pile of papers had been dropped in front of him. "B-but sir, that's huge!" he had stuttered. "I know," Raoul had replied cheerfully. "Do your best!" His first visitation with Jupiter had not been nearly so lighthearted. Although it was for only a small matter - the weekly report, which he had helped Iason prepare several times - it had been the first time he'd presented it. Fortunately, Jupiter had not been giving him her close attention, although he did know she'd received and processed the report, so she hadn't noticed how nervous he was. Katze was incorrect. Jupiter wasn't waiting to see what happened. Jupiter was mourning. But now, it was time to look to the rest of the business of leading, which was as much a social as a working responsibility. It was time to see and be seen, to be entertained and entertain in turn, to see that the social butterflies of the Elite didn't find a reason to leave their flower-dancing - for as long as they danced, the rest of the world would look to them and be reassured. Reassurance was very much on Raoul's mind. Bidding began. The first Pet was a sweet-eyed boy, barely graduated from the Academy. He flipped his long wavy hair at the bidders, and with a roar of approval, the bids went up. He was quickly sold. The female Pet who was up next generated a lot of interest, but Raoul's eyes wandered to the side of the stage, where the Pets to be auctioned were being kept. The curtain hadn't been properly drawn, and from Raoul's position, he could see much of the tiny holding room. Many of the Pets were grooming themselves, whilst others were posing, attempting to find a good way to hold themselves. However, Raoul found his attention being drawn to two figures, half in shadow, at the back of the room. The smaller boy seemed nervous, his limbs twitching, while the taller held himself confidently. The smaller almost wandered away, but the taller gently pulled him back. The delicacy of the movements, the obvious care for the smaller in the taller's posture, were almost tender in their silhouettes. The two bent towards each other, two delicate poles directed by the artificial wind, clearly speaking. This caring, between two Pets, where rivalry was the norm and friendship a liability, was surprising. Raoul glanced back towards the stage. After all, to ignore it completely would be rude. However, he wasn't interested in the redheaded boy standing before the dais, so he felt completely justified in looking back to the pair of Pets. The taller was shaking his head. Whatever the smaller had just proposed, he clearly disliked. His head bent back down - and the smaller reached up, pressing a kiss. The two stood there in shadow, head to head, hand to hand, lip to lip. The tension in their forms was easily read. Raoul could imagine very easily their situation; two - friends? allies? lovers? - about to be separated by auction and law, forever. Unless their Masters were friends, and decided their Pets should entertain them together. A very unlikely prospect. The taller's arms wrapped around the smaller. Tenderly, so gently that the taller one likely didn't even notice, the shorter twisted his fingers into his lover's long hair, then stroked out his fingers, twisted them in again. Raoul turned back to the dais. For some reason, this gentle caress, not even sexual, made him feel ashamed. He'd watched and been entertained by Pets for all of his life, seen them do hundreds of more titillating things to each other - why would one stroking another's hair have such an effect on him? The next few parts of the auction passed in a blur, till finally a boy was brought up. The taller of the pair he'd witnessed. Raoul lifted his hand and attracted a servitor. "Purchase that one for my harem," he directed. The bidding was light, despite the Pet's beauty; the boy stood straight and would neither prance nor pose for the audience, despite prodding. "Are you sure, sir?" the servitor asked. "Yes. That one. Bid a hundred and fifty thousand credits for him." As that was ten thousand more than the highest bid, the Pet was soon contracted to Raoul. The auctioneer moved on to the next, the shorter of the pair. Bidding was as slow for the second as the first of the pair. He glared at the audience, his hostility a palpable barrier. When Raoul bid on him, he was as easily obtained for the same amount as the other. At the end of the auction, Raoul stood to return to his office. Flitting among the daisies was one thing, but when one worked for a living, life among the carefree rapidly grew tedious. The wildly differing priorities of the two worlds ensured that the inhabitants of one could never be truly at home in the other. "Sir?" one of his servitors asked. "I'll be in my office until the usual time. Oh, and have my two new acquisitions prepared; they can entertain me over dinner tonight." And I might work out exactly what it is that disturbs me about them. Katze puffed out a breath of smoke and blew a ring in it. Introspection grows old swiftly, but he couldn't help thinking of that little Blondie, Raoul. It was quite amazing how, almost within a day of meeting him, Raoul had begun to pick up the reins. The business had received a sharp kick in a vulnerable part of the anatomy when the enforcers began to move in. Katze smiled grimly. It was quite satisfying to have a rival again. He contrasted the feeling with his memories of dealing with Iason's minions. It was different indeed, a totally different style. Iason's Goon Squad ran in and trashed everyone they found to a certain point, then arrested the now immobile and groaning criminals and hauled them off to the prison depot. Raoul's sealed off all the entrances, threw in a couple of sleeping gas grenades, and then pulled the comatose bodies off to be questioned. The ones who had come back had been sincerely terrified by the deliberate disorientation and the coldly clinical environment they had been questioned in. Katze had sincerely cared for the health and wellbeing of Iason Mink. He had been impressed by the Blondie's discovery of his hacking, amazed by the extent of his reach. The boy Riki had been one of his best operatives; he had been one of the few worthy of Iason's regard. This was not to say that Katze was immune to envy's knife, but he had been surprised; he had not thought he had it in himself to give Riki the help he'd asked for or the position Iason had requested for him. I appear to be a better man than appearances indicate. I'd better be careful, or it will go to my head. Raoul, on the other hand, remained an unknown quantity. Katze was still haunted by the woe-filled boy he had originally seen, but the new enforcer corps belied that image. It is clearly time for another conference with my respected opponent. If only for me to revise my estimation of him. "Hello again." Katze waited politely while Raoul finished choking on his coffee, suppressing a smile. A man had to take his amusement where he found it. "I think I shall install a doorbell on that door," Raoul replied a minute later. "That would be a waste of time," Katze commented. "You've changed." It was an understatement. There was a light in the young man's eyes now. Where once there had been despondency and grief, now determination stood within its stead. There still was sadness, but the hopelessness was gone. "It happens. I was advised to take control and I have." "It is - somewhat sudden." "It's been three weeks." "I didn't expect to come into direct conflict with you so soon." And so we come to the heart of the matter. "You are almost the single chief of the black market. We would come into conflict eventually." "Not necessarily." "Oh?" "If you had concentrated on treaties and politics, the delay would have been longer. We might have had time to come to an accord before we came to a conflict." "And you're here to make that accord now?" "No." "Then why are you here?" "To establish whether or not we can make an accord." "If you're willing to talk, I'm willing to listen. But not to concede. This is my city as well as yours." "That's good to know." As Katze stood to leave, Raoul felt suddenly uncertain. "That's it? That's all you came to do?" "I'm not currently prepared to negotiate. Neither are you. When next we meet, that's when we'll make the decisions." "And this will be - when?" Katze paused at the door. "This time, next week, here?" "I can do that." "Good. Be prepared." The door slid softly shut behind him. Raoul sat, looking at it, for a long five minutes. Then he stood, and with sharp, jerky movements, left for his home.
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