whatwekeep | Fic: Controlled Violence, Ch. 4/30

Characters: (for this chapter) Liev Schreiber, Michael C. Hall, Hunter Parrish, (mentions of) Christian Bale, Taylor Hawkins, and Oded Fehr
Rating: PG
Warnings: Slavery, Violence, Mentions of drug use
Word Count: 1,290
Previous Parts: Ch. 1: Liev's Provenance, Ch. 2: Liev v. Madsen, Ch. 3: Lord Bale's Gym

Summary: In an age when slavery is mandated by law, a type of gladiator-style fighting has arisen. Liev is an aging fighter who brings extra income to Lord Bale's household by training other fighters. In this chapter, Liev and Michael (Lord Bale's Agent) go shopping for a new fighter.

Author's Notes: Character photos for Lord Bale's household can be found here. Thanks to

miladygrey for the concept of the Charity Ward (where undesirable slaves can be purchased directly), to

poisontaster for opening up this sandbox, to

devilc for introducing me to it, and to

fleurlb for some choice casting suggestions.

Commerce (Los Angeles Branch), Present Day
"This is the most pitiful, worthless excuse for a selection...hey, maybe this is where you'll end up someday, Michael. With the dregs." Liev had stopped trying to keep the snarl from his lips about two hours into the 'shopping' expedition. "Direct purchase, you say. Good slaves cheap, you say. Swear to god, when I get you back to the house..."

"You'll what?" Michael spun on Liev, looking nearly as frustrated as Liev felt. "I'm not a fighter anymore, Liev. I take care of the books. I take care of Lord Bale's affairs. I try to keep costs under control. No, I don't want to buy a fighter. I said it. Are you happy? But here I am, here we are, buying one anyway. What was wrong with that brown-haired kid, anyway?"

"Are you joking? Kid? That slave was thirty if he was a day. I can't start from there. Give me something to work with, Michael. Raw material, that's what I need. Young, healthy...pretty wouldn't hurt. Pretty brings the crowds."

Michael sighed and continued down the long, black hall. Each prospective slave had its own window, and the effect was similar to a reptile exhibit at the zoo. Windows on one side of the hall, harshly lit. Broken-down discount slaves behind the windows, on their knees and trying to look salable. Most failing miserably. The Commerce agent had abandoned them an hour ago, throwing up his hands in despair.

"Have you thought about a female fighter? That one back there..."

"No one seriously bets on the women. We'd never make Lord Bale's money back." The lighting was so poor that Liev's eyes were starting to water. "Wait." Michael's shoes squeaked to a stop a few feet ahead of him. "This. This I think I could work with."

Michael cocked his head to the side appraisingly. "Are you sure? He looks kind of skinny."

"Yeah, skinny, but not malnourished. Look at the shoulders on him, he'll fill out." The lines of the slave's back were good, as far as Liev could tell through the light, long-sleeved shirt he was wearing. Broad shoulders, narrow through the hips.

"Hey." Liev spoke directly to the glass, and the young blonde slave kneeling behind it. "I know you can hear us. Look at me." The slave shook his head slightly, an almost imperceptible no. So either he couldn't or wouldn't lift his eyes. It didn't matter much to Liev - the slave was either well-trained or a pain in the ass, and both situations could be dealt with. "All right. Where's that Commerce guy? Let's kick the tires."

***

"I'm not going to hurt you, I just need to check you over, make sure there's nothing wrong with you that a couple good meals can't fix." Hunter nodded numbly, wondering how it came to be that he was being inspected, maybe purchased, by two slaves. The Commerce agent had left them alone in the small, linoleum-lined room to do whatever it was they were going to do. It nevertheless felt good to stand; he'd been on his knees for what seemed like hours. "You look a little rough, kid." Hunter knew he did; between the withdrawal and the retraining, the bags under his eyes had gotten to the point that they couldn't be hidden by makeup.

The big one did all of the talking and all of the touching. His fingers were gentler than Hunter would have guessed. "Open up your mouth," he said after taking a small flashlight and looking in each of Hunter's ears. Hunter complied, and the man peeled back first his top, then his bottom lip. "I need you to keep your eyes open for this, I'm going to shine a light in them." The light was bright, but Hunter did his best, hardly fazed. It wasn't even the strangest thing that had happened to him today.

"Okay, kid. Down to your underwear." This was where it always went wrong. Once they saw the track marks, the deal would be off. Hunter bit back a sigh and shucked his shirt, then his pants. He watched the big slave's eyes go to his left arm immediately. "Drug user, huh?"

"I..." Hunter didn't know what to say. I used to be was weak; of course he used to be. You couldn't get drugs in a Commerce showroom. Not all of it was my idea seemed equally bad, because a lot of it definitely had been.

"Spread your legs a little bit, here comes the fun part." The fingers probing behind his testicles were impersonal, but Hunter felt his heart speed up nonetheless. He kept his face blank through sheer force of will. The slave touching him had seen the marks and didn't care. What did that mean? What the hell did they want him for? He couldn't be a body slave. Not for any Master or Mistress that gave a damn. "Turn your head and give me two good coughs."

Then the man pressed an ear to his chest, below his pectoral muscle. "Breathe in deep, let it out slow. And again." He listened intently to both sides of Hunter's chest. When the man reached for his throat, Hunter flinched involuntarily. "Easy, kid. I just want to check your pulse." The man flashed his teeth in what he must have thought was a friendly grin, and rested two fingers on the side of Hunter's throat. "Jesus, kid, nervous much? Tell me this isn't your normal heart rate."

"No, it's..."

For the first time, the slave in the corner spoke up. "You suppose he might be feeling a little bit antsy about being poked and prodded by some giant he's never met? Just a thought." The man spoke in a lazy drawl, as if he didn't care whether the other heard or heeded his words.

The big man grinned again, as he took one of Hunter's arms in both hands and started squeezing it, feeling it out all the way down to his fingers. "Might be. What's your name, kid?" He moved on to Hunter's other arm, inspecting it as impersonally as he had the rest of Hunter's body.

"Hunter."

"I'm Liev. And that nice man in the corner is named Michael. I'm Lord Bale's trainer, and he's Lord Bale's Agent. We're both damn good at what we do, even if Michael is a cheap bastard."

Hunter searched his memory, trying to think of some bit of his training that would help him comprehend what Liev was talking about. "Trainer?"

"Yeah. Sit." Hunter sat down in a hard plastic chair as Liev knelt in front of him and went to work on his legs. It wasn't unpleasant. "You ever been in a fight?"

"Fight, like a fistfight?"

"Like a fistfight."

"I..." A memory flashed through Hunter's mind, him kicking and screaming while being bodily carried off Lord Hawkins' private plane. "Not exactly."

"Well, you're going to be in a lot of them soon. I train fighters. You ever had any broken bones?"

Hunter's heartrate spiked. "No."

Liev paused, his hand clamped around Hunter's left ankle, right over the place where Master Fehr had fractured it. Hunter felt the color drain from his face as Liev met his eyes for the first time. Liev nodded, then turned his attention to Michael.

"We're good. Jew 'em down, do whatever it is you do." He stood up and wiped the soot from his knees. "I'll see you at the house, kid." Without further ado, Liev left the room, closing the door behind him.

Michael grinned, and Hunter thought he actually looked a little bit scarier than Liev, if that was possible. "Let's see if we can get a discount for those track marks." He turned and opened the door, raising his voice. "Agent!"

Ch. 5: On Tour