Marcus was still having his eyes closed. The sound of gagged mouths could be heard from his side.He wasn't alone at this sickly twisted auction house. There were others around him. Opening his eyes, he could see the female beside him struggeling to keep back her tears. Marcus did not feel the same way. If he were to compare himself with anyone, it would be the Africana. She was still fighting, even though it was useless. Atleast she had the right spirit.<br/><br/>Marcus was not yet known for his bad mouth. In fact he'd stayed quiet for most of his captivity. But seeing the man touching and inspecting the young girl, he couldn't stay quiet. She was even younger than himself. Only sixteen, a mere child. She shouldnt be here, none of them should be here... This was all just a sick twisted nightmare. Spreading his lips, he spoke with a suprisingly calm voice. It was low, but decicive and sharp. "Get your hands off her, you sick son of a bitch." he said with a voice that would be hard to make out for anyone further away. Burying his eyes in him, he gave the man a deadly glare.<br/><br/>The sounds of bidding reached his mind, causing his curiousity to turn his eyes towards his own number. Eight? That was him! Looking up, he hoped to see someone more friendly than the taunting man.<br/><br/>