The lark remained silent the rest of the trip, her eyes caught on a sliver of metal sticking up from the floor while Osiris sat.

Her blood had made the floor slick and somewhat difficult for Drahciir to pull her through when the ship landed. He decided to hook an arm around her back and under her knees, carrying her off the Luceriesce and towards two glass buildings.

As the pair passed Osiris, the lark's eyes connected with his and stared, piercing the very center of his soul.

"If I thought I had a soul," he murmured, his curiosity peaked when no fear painted itself on the young woman's irises.

Although there was the chance that the blood loss was finally making it to her brain cells.

Shaking his head and disconnecting from the control panel, Osiris stood to his feet and exited the ship, greeting the uniform circle of men meant to escort him inside.

As he entered the building, he did so without so much as a glance in the direction of the head guard's tower, the low hum of electricity and sharp prick of pain behind his auditory sensor drawing a feral smile across his face.

Guards in blue and black uniforms marched through the center of the compound. Guns tucked into their sides and shields held at the ready, a form of protection for a Hemshaw.

Not that most of them would stand a chance of survival if a Major Challenger were to escape. One known as Denwen had assured that less than two weeks ago when he had escaped his personal detail and left their heads as a mutilated gift on his Hemshaw's doorstep.

Along with the guards, advisors from several other branches of the trading ring were scurrying around two of the upper floors. Their coats flew just as furiously as they were in attempts to dig out some type of preview about the upcoming battles Osiris was meant to fight in.

"Damn press," he muttered, his eyes piercing one of the pathetic beanpoles who caught his stare before hustling in the opposite direction.

As he was led into the elevator, he thought back to what had happened on the airship, how the lark had, had her hands freed from her body in such a manner. It wasn't a surprise to him as that was Drahciir's brand of ownership, but it was the fact that he had taken both of them that had caused the slightest hint of surprise to shoot through his system.

Normally he would have thought on it longer, but his train of thought was brought to a halt when the elevator jumped, and came to a slow stop at the highest floor, Atoka's office.

Clear glass stared up at Osiris from its solidified place under his feet, revealing every inch of the activity taking place on the floors beneath them. The long, chilled corridor was all that stood between Osiris and the man who had owned him since the age of twelve.

He didn't pay much mind to the onyx door, its soul-blackened color absorbing any light it saw, as it was opened and the guards shoved him inside.

A sharp click sounded in his ear, bringing him to his knees as his body twitched and he raised his head. Drahciir stood off to the left side of a large, wooden desk, while a woman covered in a white evening gown with a quarter-sized diamond on her finger stood to the right, lips drawn tight.

Atoka sat between them both when his gaze rose slowly from his papers. Silver eyes skimmed down Osiris' body, and he could feel them tracing his arms, coming closer to that sharp shock in his elbow, a wire that had been sliced in half during his match. However, before they could, the eyes shot to a chair sat directly in front of him. A summons.

"It would appear, Drahciir," Atoka began, hands clasped as Osiris rose, stumbled, then took his seat, "that one of your men has managed to damage part of my Challenger's hardware. Both internally and externally. What do you have to explain yourself?"

The tips of Drahciir's ears burned red as he cleared his throat and fiddled with his jacket. "I have nothing to present for myself, Atoka, but I do have the man responsible for this heinous act."

"Where were you when this horrifying display was occurring, dear brother?" the woman purred, catlike irises narrowing the barest of inches.

"Taking care of my recent purchase, sister."

"You mean the little fledgling who managed to create an utter mess of my vestibule?" Her eyes darkened as the door to the office began to open. "If she hadn't already lost both her hands, I would have removed them myself," she spat.

Drahciir straightened, looking to Atoka instead. "I ask that you would humbly accept my apology for what happened in your place of business, Atoka, but it had to be done. Your men operate the type of technology that I needed in order to reconstruct the girl. There was nothing more I could do."

"You could have left the filthy mongrel in the pig pens where she belongs." His sister's skin stretched further across her bones as her lips widened.

"You would not understand this." Drahciir waved his hand to dismiss her. "You don't comprehend the ways of business. You simply stand, waiting for your beauty or the beauty of your household to gain praise, sister. That isn't the way of us men and our machines."

His sister stepped forward, nose to nose with Drahciir, eyebrows raised. "You men and your machines, you say? Then it would be most curious as to why you are here in my house, trying to explain why you destroyed part of my husband's property, then used his machinery to repair a different mistake."

Atoka reached out, his hand sliding down the woman's arm and worrying at the silk of her sleeve. "Be calm, Genevra."

Her mouth had opened in protest, but the Captain of the Guard had made his way through the room and bowed before his master, silencing the burn of Genevra's lips, but not the smoldering depths of her eyes.

"Thank you for escorting her here, Captain," Atoka murmured. He had always taken pride in himself for never raising his voice. "You may leave her be for now."

The man bowed once more then exited the room, and Osiris tilted his head to the side to see who "her" was.

From the look of disgust on Genevra's face, he could have figured out quite easily that it was the young lark, but his mind was in all kinds of malfunctioning by that point.

Her raven colored hair now hung in long gnarled vines around her almond shaped face. Deep purples and blacks blossomed from her right cheek, and her eyes remained down cast as her small frame stood rigid.

Drahciir appeared at her side and proceeded to lock his pair of tusarre around her wrists, the inescapable bonds crackling with each breath she took.

And in place of her dainty, fire wielding hands, were dark, metallic pieces of machine. Both were designed to mimic the appearance and ability of human hands, but where veins and scarlet heat should have been, orange and yellow lights pulsed through the visible wires.

"Speak your name, child," Atoka ordered.

Her eyes shot up from the floor, teeth bared. "I am no child."

"But you shall learn you are one, if not less, Traol," Genevra growled from behind her husband.

Atoka gave little acknowledgement to his wife's outburst, but Osiris could see his hand tighten ever so slightly on her wrist.

"Your name."

When the lark remained silent, Atoka sighed, his tall frame rising from his chair, releasing his wife, and moving around the desk to stand before the girl.

He reached down for her hands and held them up to the light, a deep tsk crawling from the back of his throat.

"It would appear your Hemshaw has chosen to use my most recent A600 model for the base of your configuration and hardware. An interesting choice indeed." He lingered gently over the skin that sat above her shredded and bruising flesh. "Now, what is your name?"

Her silence was brief, and her response drawn violently from her silent vocal cords as she ground out, "Genesis... my name is Genesis."

Atoka quirked an eyebrow in Drahciir's direction. Neither of them must have expected a name such as that, and Genevra wasn't long in including her response to the revelation either.

"Genesis, hm? How—disappointing that must be for you." She followed her husband's earlier steps, her breath breaking in waves across Genesis' face. "To be named after such an empowering and wealthy woman, deemed a hero amongst our people. Yet your parents felt it fit to besmirch that name and give it to a weak-willed and broken cretin."

Each word drove harder than the last against the cracked defense surrounding Genesis' mind, and Osiris could feel the placate mask she wore quaking under the pressure of such a verbal attack.

"You need to last a few more minutes," he thought, "a few more minutes is all and then it will be over."

But Genevra had other plans.

"Brother," she declared, her gold flecked eyes unwavering as he looked to her, "you yourself said that you required my husband's machinery to perform the procedure on your lark. However, the weaponry you have so frivolously equipped to her body is in alignment with the recent qualifications for new and upcoming Challengers, is it not?"

"I—."

"It is in alignment, darling," Atoka replied for him, his hands now occupied with a small metal button. "It would also appear that, unless you wish to argue against it, Drahciir, your purchase is in no standing to even reach the rings as a Minor Challenger, concerning all that has proceeded with her so far today."

"But—."

"Unless you were to offer a bargain that would allow me to overlook your mistakes, of course." A lift of his lips was his only indication of amusement. "I would then be more than willing to send her safely into the beginning phases for the Four Rivers qualifiers.

All color had fled Drahciir's face as he fumbled for some word to shout forth to his brother-in-law.

Osiris sighed and slouched down in his chair instead, continuing to study Genesis. He knew when Atoka had a man trapped in his sticky strings of manipulation and deceit. It wouldn't be too long before he struck the poor fly with his venom laced fangs.

"You could sign her training rights over to us, Drahciir," Genevra suggested, her voice light and frothy again. "She would train with some of our best Challengers, and that would go so far as to guarantee her a spot in qualifying."

"And you would assure that she finds fine care here?" Drahciir asked, his voice cracking slightly,

Osiris scoffed, the bitter taste of annoyance drowning his tastebuds at the thought, considering the man had severed her hands from her body because she'd defended herself.

"She would be Osiris' and Ammit's responsibility in training, and she would remain in company with the other Challengers in living quarters and so on, but any earnings of hers would be transferred to you," Atoka continued. "There would be no need to worry."

Drahciir bit at his lip and looked to Genesis, whose metal finger was raised in a crude gesture, despite the electricity that shocked her wiring to cease her movement.

"Very well... but I make the decisions as to where in the life rooms she will be placed and which Challengers she is allowed to interact with. I don't wish for any of your foolish Minors to become too friendly around my property."

Atoka laughed and took ahold of Osiris arm, raising him to his feet. "You have quite a few words for someone who should be sounding more grateful, Drahciir. But I'll over look that for now." He motioned for one of the guard's to step forward. "Escort Osiris and Genesis to the training hall. My wife and I will be down to evaluate them within the next hour or two."

The guard nodded, and as the remaining guards entered to lead the Challengers away, Atoka flashed another devilish smile towards his brother-in-law.

"As for you and our little agreement," he murmured, jeweled hands entwined once more, "we have much more to discuss."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

*Tusarre - restraints meant to electrocute the prisoner if any unauthorized movement occurs