Three black cars caught the glare off the streetlights as they barreled through the road. A megacity, with its infinite wealth of concrete, divided unfairly in favor of the motorized monsters and stealing from the pedestrians. Humming, electric motors stressed the image of a quiet, violent purpose. Like soldiers in the night, or debris sans its burn against the atmosphere, hiding while falling, with space itself as their backdrop. The mother and father lacquered beasts cradled the middle car. A swarm of motorcycles courted them too, feeding off their turbulence and hoping to earn their keep. Remora holding on to sharks.<br/><br/>It was a subtle cause for envy, this gathering among the white, interrupted lines. You had to look for it in order to feel that weight in your gut. A cruel trick of the wealthy. Soon there'd be an escaping stretch, breaking free from the larger asphalt expanses like a quick tongue. The cars and their pampering bikes followed it until a short cement throat opened up to a fenced-in portion of the docks.<br/><br/>Night air moved the water to remind them all great places are connected, and that you could well have all the power in one harbor, while you were nothing on the next beach. Matters of the world are dealt with against the sea. Even the blasphemous machines had the decency to die against the voices of the swells. The erect lights were enough.<br/><br/>From an iron-lipped hole in the ground, tilted and sized to eat semis, a gaggle of darkly dressed came, eager to meet their potential buyer. They'd heard of the rewards for catching Kaenta Ameda's eye, and hoped for his generosity and friendship now. Titan of industry, self-made, all those titles that people liked to use for relentless men. They made two rows from the passenger door of the baby car, nestled between it's protectors and the scattered cycles. A short man with the worst gait and the best suit dared pull the handle. Shining leather, empty seat.<br/><br/>A rider stepped off his bike and started walking. Diversions are the best protection. Little Sam in his good suit hurried to catch up with the tricky Ameda King, a little frustrated to be played with. But everyone had to forgive Kaenta for everything. By the time they'd reached the slope that lead into the underground, Sam was holding all the gear Kaenta had been wearing, leaving the new best suit in their gathering uncovered. Kaenta was a beautiful thing, as though wealth wasn't enough of a blessing, and his bladed eyes were boasting their usual base of gray but taking on the deep yellow light of the piped mounted in the high ceiling.<br/><br/>"Yo won't believe it, sir. We had to go through such lengths. She's a darling. We thought we'd give you a show first, since your reputation says you're keen on these... treasures." Sam said.<br/><br/>Kaenta had all the information already. He'd come here in person, hadn't he? What did the slight man think he'd brought in the other cars? Someone would become rich tonight, if Kaenta became happy.<br/><br/>The tunnel opened up to a great hall, the ground above them held in place by rusting beams. All manner of fanfare here. Crates and machines. Cages. Boxes of glass. Scenes. Kaenta thought it was promising, and let it show on his youthful face. He pushed one famous lip to the side in thought.<br/><br/>"We have hybrids too. Very cleanly melded, sir. Have you ever seen scales on a feline? It works. Let me show you." Sam went on, struggling to stay side-by-side with the long legs. A few of the patrons here noticed the known eccentric, and followed him with their attention. Where Kaenta Ameda went, there'd be something worth buying, if you had the coffers for it.<br/><br/>"No finery, Samworth." Kaenta said. It wasn't cold but it wasn't forgiving, either. "Even by supermarket standards the impulse purchases should be offered after the main event." His plush mouth became small. I expected more from you, it didn't say. Sam lowered his head and handed his leather and carbon-fiber baggage over to the next man.<br/><br/>"So sorry, sir. Ameda sir. Old habit. Please follow." And then the two men and their guards went to the side, through a rusty door with well-oiled hinges.<br/><br/>Kaenta stopped almost immediately passed the flaking red paint on the inconvenient threshold. Silver eyes were green in here, given the new lamps. They'd put her in a glass stage, and wound a strange, lithe chain around her ankle. A modern legend, that shackle. He gasped when he saw her, and hurried over, faster than Sam and the others could manage.<br/><br/>"Kirin..." he said and reached out. Sam grabbed his sleeve.<br/><br/>"F-first, sir." He held up a ring of the same sheen as her chains. She wore a necklace and a pair of bracelets, too. Kaenta nodded, and put the ring on his pointing finger.<br/><br/>"Wakana." he said to her, and dared step close enough that she could reach him, if she wanted, sharing her brittle, lifted floor. He extended his arm to touch her face, already wearing an owner's mannerisms. His lips were four petals, listening from strokes of his tongue. "Look at me." And if she didn't, he turn her chin.