It takes a couple minutes to walk to the entrance of the building; once we step into line I feel my back stiffen and my breath start to come out in quick pants. Mikey is still standing in front of us, scanning the crowd for our target, but Will had been standing behind me. At the sudden tension of my body, Will steps up to my side, taking my hand once more. I am taken aback by this, but he gives my hand a reassuring squeeze, and I know he must be thinking about my last mission as well.

He leans in close, his breath warming the inside of my ear as he whispers, “It’ll be okay, Luka. This mission isn’t going to go like last time.” Will again squeezes my hand, and pats rib cage, where he knows I have a gun holstered. I give him a small nod, counting down where my weapons are placed along my body. My breath slows, and my heart stops hammering in my chest.

We finally reach the front of the line, and Michael hands the man standing at the front our tickets. Just as our mission papers said, we are not checked for weapons. This is either because it is expected of us not to have weapons, or, the more likely reason, everyone will have some kind of weapon, and it is too much of a hassle to take everyone’s weapons out of their custody.

As we walk into the gala hall, I am surprised by the amount of children in attendance. They are all dressed up in suits, almost like mini waiters and waitresses, ages ranging from eight to eleven.

“What are those kids doing?” I ask, watching as they go from guest to guest, handing them a paper and beaming up at them as if the guest were the sun, moon, and stars.

“I… I think they are giving them a resume, of sorts… Trying to get the guests to buy them.” Will says this with such disgust, as though he would gladly shoot every guest down right there.

Horror at his words seeped through me. I assume that the kids were either threatened or given an offer they couldn’t refuse to get sold to the highest bidder. As I think this, a small girl around ten prances up to us, her bright golden hair framing her round face.

“Hello sirs! I hope you are enjoying this lovely evening?” She hands us each a paper, standing patiently as we read them, as if waiting to be dismissed. While Mike and I read the paper, Will bends his head towards the little girl to ask her a few questions quietly.

The paper was indeed a resume, listing off all the things the girl was capable of doing, from cooking and cleaning to… reproducing. I felt sick, and the room slightly spun. Hatred, pure and cold, rushed through me at that single word. We couldn’t help these children tonight, but I wasn’t going to let them be sold and taken like some farm animals. Our mission papers had informed us that the children would be held for two nights before their new owners would take them away. Where was the question, though. I didn’t care that our mission had simply been to get Ferrari. We were going to save these kids, too.