Avatar Auction (Avatar series #1)

During a busy season of hunting, the early period of the project, my thumb was always worn-out. Now, I’ve shot most of my devotees and the wound on my thumb was being closed completely until Amelia tore it up once more evoking my agony back.

  I did hunting to get self-relaxation. To stop seeing them struggling. Just one shot made them comfortable. Smart NTTs lived in a fear because of us, the cockroach hunters, the Generals of MTT. They concocted up a brainless smile but could not deceive the BTT Generals who read their smart thoughts. If they were caught, they were sent to a courtroom of the infamous Justice Judge Noir and never came back.

  That’s why I shot, to turn them into normal NTTs before they were arrested by the other Generals. But they, even after being shot by the bullet, rebooted up their intelligence and blamed me who tried to make them brainless. My excuse, to make them comfortable, did not work on them.

  Amelia, what should I do? I still believe it is right to put you at ease. If you agree, I can invade the hospital and shoot you until you lose your brain to stop your suffering.

  I hear Cooper mumbling in his sleep and turn to see his doll dropped on the floor. I stretch my arm and pick it up. It is a craggy teddy bear with a wrestling champion belt around its waist. He received it when he won the national wrestling champion. He followed the fate STT designed for him and grasped the glory. He was an excellent NTT citizen until he read an article in Morning Call newspaper and became one of my devotees.

  He appeared in my life two years ago when MTT was selecting recruits. I was one of the interviewers with two BTT Generals when a 17-year-old born wrestler entered the hall.

  “National champion at fifteen? Does it include BTTs’ district?” asked Romanov.

  “Yes,” answered Cooper.

  “You won over BTTs and still live?” asked Loring.

  Cooper chuckled, thinking it was a joke. It was not, of course.

  “He could survive because he isn’t a cockroach,” whispered Romanov.

  “But his scores,” said Loring, “they are higher than a BTT applicant, both in written and physical exams.”

  “He cheated,” said Romanov firmly.

  “You know that’s not possible. He’s a smart NTT obviously,” Loring said and began asking questions about his life while I watched him carefully, admiring his cleverness. He answered tricky questions well, not irritating the BTT Generals and read a pages-long story fluently. Which was remarkable as NTTs are designed to have low literacy except born students.

  Eventually he received a higher score than BTT applicants and became the second NTT General after me.

  It was the day he joined me in my office when I saw the real face of him. A shy pubescent boy stood there, flushing his cheeks like a teenage fan meeting his idol. He brought out a clipped paper from his jacket and pushed it to me. I took a glance at it. It was a published article.

  “I read the article when I was fifteen. It was the longest writing I had ever read since birth. I began reading and studying a pile of thick books to enter MTT. I could do so because of the person in the article.”

  I unfolded the paper and saw my face.

  “You made me dream for the first time in my life.” He added quickly, “Except wrestling.”

  He was a gift. I thought I could understand the mind of a parent. I am only two years older than him but since then, I protect him as if I’m his father. But I know he will laugh at my idea so, I call him my brother.

  Morning sun throws a light on Cooper’s sleeping face. I lay his wrestling teddy bear on his chest. I don’t need to be a hero for everybody. So, stop feeling guilty of Amelia and other people. I’m responsible for only one person. Only you, Cooper.

  CHAPTER 7

  Six AM, Cooper and I pause in front of our office at a letter fixed on the door with a spike. Must be Ares, I think, extracting the spike out of our door. He is a man with a gene that can turn everything into a weapon. I thought he was a born magician when I first saw him taking out a scythe from his back. It happened to be his single hair that had turned into the weapon. Cooper opens the door for me and I enter inside, unsealing the letter. It reads «Weekly afternoon tea party». Of course. They have to feed us regularly.

  “Are you going?” I ask Cooper.

  “Do I have a choice, sir?”

  “No. But you’re not going,” I say slipping the invitation inside my jacket. “You didn’t even see this. I’m going alone.”

  Cooper gives me a worried look and I turn away, pretending not to perceive it. He knows that I will have a painful time, vomiting all the foods I am fed in their restaurant. Pushing my finger down my throat and forcing the foods out, sitting on a filthy tile floor of NTTs’ common restroom are the last things I want to show him. But I must do so because the chemicals within the food will make my brain too muddy to protect Cooper.

  “General Moon.” I look up and see Cooper ready to leave the office. “I’m going to the gym, sir.” I nod firmly and watch him walking out.

  I always assign Cooper to train NTT soldiers in our ragged gym to minimize the chance he encounters BTTs. It worked well, until recently. But if Cooper’s love is exposed to them, he will be a game to be wrecked at once, making my efforts all in vain.

  I stand up, stretch my body for a few minutes and sit back in my chair. I close my eyes to focus on my thoughts before entering their restaurant where everyone tries to rummage my deepest thoughts. I have to do it well for the sake of Cooper. I have to kill last night’s dream in me. It’s been bothering me all morning.

  I met a woman called Nixie, whom I assumed as Cooper’s fiancée. But it can’t be true. He didn’t tell me anything about her. She seemed to be a MTT employee but, I haven’t seen a woman like her working for several years here. My dream was all fake.

  CHAPTER 8

  NTT employees, five men and women, are walking out of BTT Generals’ restaurant. They walk soundlessly in a row with their eyes fixed on the floor. They are not allowed to look BTTs in the eyes and think I am one of them, judging by my white uniform pants. I look at the women when we pass each other. They are wearing blue uniforms. And Nixie wore one in my dream. But, of course, I cannot see a face that resembles hers.

  As I enter the restaurant, all eyes follow my movement. It resembles a giant show window full of fashion manikins.

  As always, my table is set in the center on a platform. They’ll see me eating every piece of cake and bread on the tray of five layers. I smell of freshly baked breads and homemade deluxe candies that equal my monthly salary.

  “Today’s berries’ special,” Venus says, wrapping her arm around my neck after I’m seated. “I put on this strawberry lipstick just for you. Feel free to taste it, C, ne, Moon!” She always talks like a person with a half tongue, cutting each word with an extra high pitch, which I find extremely cute.

  “You know how to please a woman, you strawberry boy,” she says, hearing my mind. “Choose. Which one do you want to start first? Eeny, meeny, miny, moe?” she says cutely.

  I have to finish all anyway. I decide to eat from the top.

  “No, you’re an NTT. You are the bottom,” Venus says.

  Yes, madam. I meekly wait for her to feed me.

  She picks a miniature raspberry cake and rubs it around her bare foot.

  “Have it,” she orders.

  I quietly lower down and begin licking her toes, hearing her cackles.

  “He’s a good dog, isn’t he?” she says to her colleagues who are chortling at me.

  As I raise my head up after finishing my first sweet, she throws a cupcake into my face.

  “You had to catch it with your mouth. What are you doing? It fell down. Clean the floor with your tongue.”

  Wow, what a dirty player, I think joyfully.

  “Wow, what a dirty player!” everyone follows and chuckles with great happiness, standing around my circular platform. This way is better than disobeying her and irritating them. It’s just a cupcake. Just a cupcake…

  I look around to find
the fallen cupcake and see it behind a man’s black shoe. He’s the only one who is not enjoying this feed-Cine-Moon-show. He’s sitting in a distance reading a newspaper. That’s Morning Call. Why is he reading our newspaper?

  He feels my glance and looks up. He places the newspaper on the table, stands up and walks to me showing off his striking handsome face. His long-legged stride moves towards me like a suit model on a runway. Two of his friends join him. On his right is Ares, who named himself after the Greek god of war. His bloodlust eyes prove his proper naming sense. On the opposite side is Bacchus, an effeminate, long-haired man as the legend depicts. I don’t know if that is a concept as well that he mostly looks drunk. Bacchus, the god of wine, is usually known as Dionysus. I won’t mention they are all young and handsome because they are the common factors of BTT men. They are born with beauty and youth gene.

  Zeus steps on the platform and looks down at me.

  “Sit. Where’s the Copper?”

  It’s Cooper not copper, I answer, sitting on my chair alone.

  “Whatever. I prepared a higher tray for you two but, he didn’t come. I don’t think you can finish all.”

  I swallow, nervous from his rare kindness. It usually brings the worse consequence.

  “So, I called one more person to replace Copper,” he adds and turns to the door. “There she is.”

  I follow his gaze and see a familiar face. She looks more stiffened than last night. It must be her first time to be invited to BTTs’ tea party. A junior BTT General drags her by the arm and body, helplessly, moving towards us.

  “Wait a minute,” Bacchus says, appearing in front of her by teleport. He points to her blue uniform with his drinking cup. “Dress code is only white. You need a new cloth.” He turns his eyes until they stop at me. He comes to my table in a blink and takes off the snowy white table cloth from my table and the five-layer of trays. Cakes and breads fly everywhere, including my face.

  While they laugh, looking at my jam-coated face, Bacchus pushes the table cloth to her and says sturdily, “Take off your clothes and wear this. Now.”

  However, she does not accept the table cloth.

  Bacchus tilts his head. “You want me to help?” He snorts. “Do you think I’ll touch your rags?”

  I swallow and think what I can do for her. But my body does not move calculating the aftereffect. They are enjoying this, a lot. I’ll be abused, brutally, by them if I try to save her now. They are so focused that they don’t even care what I’m thinking right now. And there’s no way I can get her out of this place. It will end up with two victims.

  I finally convince myself that it’s only their daily entertainment and nothing really severe will happen and decide only to observe. I soon find myself just as immoral as the other BTT Generals who are watching her curiously.

  The next second, Zeus appears behind Nixie, holding Bacchus’s drinking cup in his hand. Then he pours wine onto her clothes and lets it soak her shirt and reveal her bra.

  “Well? Your bra is white,” Bacchus says, looking down at her chest. “You don’t even need this anymore.” He throws the table cloth onto the floor. Now her eyes are fixed on the floor, her fists shaking with madness. That’s a mistake showing an obvious reaction. They get meaner and want more.

  As Bacchus takes out his wine bottle pendent from his necklace, it enlarges into the actual size of a bottle. He drinks it from the bottle.

  “I know. It’s hard. Everything’s hard when you’re not drunk.” He pushes his bottle to her face as if stamping circles around her mouth. She pushes the bottle away after having ten stamps around her mouth. She did it lightly but it falls down on the floor spilling wine endlessly. It was his fault that he was not holding it tightly but, logic does not work on the drunken man. I can see his furious eyes, even from his back as he slaps her face, making a shrill sound.

  Everyone’s laughter stops at once. They don’t dare to turn their heads to watch the king. Zeus allows every way to hurt people but, not physical violence. Though bringing a shame is more unforgivable in my eyes.

  Drunken Bacchus does not notice his leader’s fuming glare and moves his fingers to her shirt. “I’m so excited. It’s my first time to touch an NTT’s shirt. It’s power of wine. Wine is brawny. Wine conquers every man and woman.”

  Just before his finger reaches her first button, Zeus quietly stretches his hand and grabs the neck of Bacchus. He looks up to come across the king’s icy stare.

  “Oh, Zeus, did I do something that annoys you? Whatever I did, you have to forgive me. You’re our generous king. You are the only one my wine cannot conquer. You don’t even have a sip of it! That’s why I admire you, man who conquered his desire for wine! That’s why I changed my name to show how much I admire you. And that’s why I bought this, this...”

  Bacchus cannot connect the word as his mouth is already iced-up. Greek god Zeus is a god of the sky, weather, thunder, lightning, law, order, and fate but real life Zeus is a man with a gene of freezing. But what was his next word? “And that’s why I bought this…”

  I look up, feeling the chilling glare. Zeus’s the sender.

  Okay, I understand. That’s a BTTs’ thing. I won’t dare try to know, I say clearly in my mind. He nods tersely and turns his eyes away from me.

  “Venus, take her and give her new clothes,” Zeus says and turns to Nixie. “Come to my office and give me your answer about last night before I ruin your Cooper.”

  As Zeus disappears by teleport with Bacchus, Venus hurriedly moves to Nixie, grips her wrist and teleports out of the place. After a few seconds I’m left alone in their chaotic restaurant. I am supposed to run to the toilet to vomit Venus’s foot cream out but, just cannot move with a shock.

  Zeus, he was certainly talking about the proposal. But it was bogus. His proposal was forged.

  He installed a perfect trap for her. If she says no, Cooper will get hurt. This woman won’t let him touch him. I read her thoughts in the dream. She was worried about him, rather than herself. She will have to say “yes” and Zeus will punish the arrogance.

  That’s rather good for Cooper. She has to disappear. Then everyone’s fine. I don’t need to disappoint him. I can tell Zeus was only faster.

  Now, think of my matter. What happened to me and Zeus in the dream? How was it possible?

  Chapter 9

  “I watched through his eyes, I smelled through his nose, and I touched her hand through his hand, feeling the softness with my senses through his skin,” I say and gulp down a small glass of soju.

  “You were in him, that’s what you’re saying?” Hera says and gulps down a small glass of cider as well. We are sitting next to each other, facing her parents who are busily preparing to close their tent bar before noon.

  “Yes.” I nod and fill her glass with cider.

  “Is it possible?” Hera asks and fills my glass with soju.

  “Yes, they can do anything.”

  “But why? Why does he lease his body to you? You said he doesn’t like you.”

  “He hates me,” I correct her. “I don’t know. They just do strange things when they are bored. By the way, where did you bring the idea he’d lease his body to me?”

  “Because he let you enter his body and he shared his senses with you,” Hera says, gnawing on a stick of fish sausage.

  “Shared his senses with me?” I repeat her words slowly. I tilt my head. “But why?”

  “Because they do strange things when they are bored,” she answers.

  I smile. “That is definitely right.”

  “Here’s your brunch, General,” her father says, handing the dish over. I receive the plate with two hands and place it on the table. I hold my chopsticks before lifting a chicken foot basted in a hot red pepper sauce and grilled. I turn over it and see red pepper powder on its glossy body. I swallow hard.

  “Go, General! Challenge!” Hera cheers me up.

  I nod and bring the thing to my mouth anxiously. I’m not really fond of a challe
nge.

  “It’s good they sell hot pepper paste here. It’s just exactly the one my mother used in Korea.”

  “You always buy ingredients in All Timelines Market? It’s expensive there. Just feed them cheap foods. They are affected already,” I say, finishing one foot quickly. Its taste isn’t horrible as it seems.

  “You are mean. Some customers have straight eyes and they come to us knowing our foods are safe.”

  “Then let me shoot them. I was called to a tea party because I hunted fewer cockroaches. And I consider the dream as a warning.”

  Hera watches me for a moment.

  “Why?”

  “Will you hunt me as well?”

  I put down the meatless chicken foot losing my appetite wondering if she’s testing my fidelity. “What do you think?”

  “I think you will take us to the courtroom one day,” she says with neutral eyes. She’s not trying to do anything with me. She’s telling the truth, what she feels about me. So that shakes me.

  “I don’t want anyone to be arrested. That’s why I shoot them. To help them have an easy life!” I appeal my words with ardent eyes.

  She nods calmly and turns her head away from me to see her parents. They are outside, cleaning around their tent bar. She faces front and says in a little voice, “I can’t sleep. What if they come to shoot my parents? What if they feed them those foods to change them?”

  “Don’t worry. I promise I’ll keep you all unaffected.”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “I think you’re right. We don’t need to struggle. I better turn like them so I don’t need to have this fear every day.”

  “Hera.” I see her tears and pull her to my chest to pat her on the back. “Sorry, if I scared you. I told you too much including things you don’t need to know.”

  “Just shoot me if you find me going crazy,” she says with a shaky voice and grabs my hand. “You must, if you think I’m your friend.”

  “Don’t worry, Hera. That won’t happen.” But I actually fear. Fear of losing my friend.

  She quickly pushes me away, hearing voice coming back into the tent bar. She wipes her tears away and comes back as a gleeful 12-year-old girl.