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Word Count: 1069

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As the mind-controlled auctioneer babbles on about some sort of vase, the Phantom Troupe rummages through the items meant for the auction.

Chrollo mainly oversees, listing off the items to find before it's time to duplicate and sell them. Hisoka is mainly unamused, sitting back to let the others handle most of the work. Kortopi works on duplicating the items as the others simply gather as Shalnark controls the auctioneer.

"Is this really all there is?" Hisoka drawls, disdainfully glancing at the boxes.

No one bothers to respond to the clownish man's question.

"We haven't looked under there yet," Feitan points out, staring at a human-sized Cage covered by a black cloth.

Interest peaked, Hisoka saunters to it and dramatically sweeps the covering off. A wicked smile blossoms on his face as he looks into the cage.

"Oh~"

Without looking over, Chrollo asks, "What is it?"

"A girl," Pakunoda answers.

True enough, inside the cold steel cage lies a girl. Or rather, a wolf-girl.

Hands chained together and attached to a heavy collar around her neck, the mysterious wolf-hybrid seems to be sleeping peacefully.

"A werewolf," Nobunaga corrects, moving towards the bars to get a closer look. "I thought they were extinct."

Intrigued, their leader approaches the cage.

He looks upon her form, taking in the girl's worn and torn clothes and restful expression. She has a long fluffy tail which acts as a kind of blanket and two large fuzzy ears sprouting through her h/c hair.

Her face is almost obscured by a muzzle. Despite the restraints, it's plain to see...

She's beautiful.

Just as he goes to touch the cage, her eyelids pop open, revealing large e/c orbs. And they contain immense anger.

Feral, she lunges, stopped by the short chain that hoops through her collar and attaches to the bottom of the cage.

The Spiders don't even flinch at the action.

Hisoka grins as he senses the strong waves of bloodlust leeching from her.

Chrollo, unfazed by her growls, crouches down to look into her eyes, "We won't hurt you."

Her lips twitch into a sneer.

"What's your name?"

A mocking smirk forms on her chapped lips, revealing sharp fangs.

Chrollo waits for a second then stands.

"Pakunoda."

The blonde with an interesting nose steps forward and quickly reaches into the cage. The girl tries to bite the stranger, but is unable to.

Pakunoda touches the wolf-girl's shoulder.

"Her name is Y/n L/n. She's the last of her pack, they were killed some time ago. She was caught a year ago and put into the auction after killing her former owner."

Resentment floods the expression of the werewolf as she bares her teeth.

"She hasn't talked since her pack died."

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You growl.

I have talked, but not using words.

These people seem different to you. Unlike the mafia men, they seem more dangerous, wild. Almost like they are their own pack.

The thought of a pack brings painful memories to mind.

Exhaling, you envision the dead body of the last man who dared to say he owned you. Guts spilt on the ground, blood dripping from your fangs, your fingers.

Nothing can sate the bloodlust in your veins.

They'll regret ever taking me.

The leader, a man with a cross tattooed on his forehead, continues to examine you. Shaking with rage, you struggle against your restraints again.

Kill.

None of them move.

One of them catches your interest, a male dressed like a jester. His smile is unnerving and his aura is as deadly as yours.

But, the black haired male without a shirt is definitely the man in charge.

"I bet your voice is beautiful," the leader says out of the blue.

Caught off guard, your glare falters for a second.

You remember howling with your family, allowing your song to be heard by the moon and the stars. Those days are long passed, but the sweet memories live on in your aching heart.

And now this stranger goes and says something like that?

As if he deserves something from you?!

Roaring, you pull at the chains holding you down, snapping the weaker links with a satisfying clang.

Now standing, you stare him down.

He shows no fear. In fact, he seems impressed.

"Wow!" Shalnark exclaims from the sidelines.

Cracking your neck, you step forward, now face to face with the man in charge.

You show your teeth, longing to dig your claws into flesh.

But, you're still cuffed and collared, the muzzle heavy on your face.

A lowly animal.

Maybe they'll kill me now.

"We're not the mafia. We're the Phantom Troupe. Although, I doubt that means anything to you," the leader continues, unflinching before your fury.

A small smile blooms on his gorgeous countenance, "And I think you'd make an excellent addition."

"But we already have enough members!"

He grins, "There's always room for a pet."

"A pet?" Feitan echoes.

Hisoka practically purrs, "What a great idea, danchou."

Your face twists into a vicious expression, arms reaching for anyone close enough. They stay out of reach, much to your surmounting anger.

Inhaling deeply, you try to relax, calming your aura and gathering it in your hands.

You've been practicing this strange ability that you just recently discovered on accident.

"Nen?"

Your ear twitches. What's nen?"

Without another thought, you punch the bar in front of you, shattering it.

Lunging forward, you shove past the clown and the leader, or at least, you try to.

Chrollo caught the chain attached to your collar, yanking it towards him. You fall back into his chest, ready to fight to the death.

Until, an overwhelming aura overtakes yours.

This man... is powerful.

Definitely alpha material.

Being accustomed to packs and the different roles therein, your instincts scream at you to cower and grovel.

Gazing into his face, you search for signs of anger but find none. He seems pleased, in fact.

He brings up his hand, and you brace yourself for a harsh blow.

It never comes.

Instead, he simply pats your head.

At the endearing gesture, your tail wags once. It's been so long since anyone's been gentle with you that this affectionate act makes you want to cry.

In front of you, Hisoka frowns.

He noticed your expression change and felt a twinge of... jealousy?

"I told you, we won't hurt you."

And you believe him.