Inside was a naked girl, bound and gagged. Judging from her sallow complexion and the visible outlines of her bones, she was underfed.

The Gunrunner came to the obvious conclusion.

She was a slave.

In that instant, his anger flared up at the client. Surprisingly enough, it was more indignation at having been lied to than the actual contents of his cargo. After he calmed down, he cut her restraints and removed her gag.

"Can you speak?"

The girl attempted to open her mouth and talk, but due to her dehydration, all that came out was a rasping moan.

"I'll take that as a no. Can you write? Nod for yes, shake your head for no."

The girl shook her head vigorously.

"Alright. Can you stand, or do you need help?"

She nodded, but stumbled and fell as she attempted to get out of the crate. Thankfully, the Gunrunner caught her before she fell. Had she hit the ground, she would have most likely broken multiple bones. While supporting her, he walked over to the tarp lashed to the back of the motorcycle and spread it out on the ground. Within minutes, he prepared an impromptu meal of jerky and water for her.

The moment she saw the food, she grabbed a handful and eagerly stuffed it into her mouth- then retched, her starved body rejecting the sudden intake of food.

"Easy there. Take a drink of water, first."

As she swallowed gulp after gulp of water, tears started to form at the corners of her eyes. She seemed surprised by this, which led the Gunrunner to believe she had been dehydrated to such an extent she was unable to cry. The indignation which he had felt previously had entirely given way to a righteous fury. In all his time as a courier, he had never seen a slave mistreated this badly- of course, there would have been multitudes hidden away and tortured like this girl, but nobody dared display a severely mistreated slave in public, fearing the beseeching eyes of others.

Fearing she would suffer water intoxication, he gently pulled the bottle from her mouth. He took a piece of jerky, and took out his knife. The Gunrunner noticed how the girl's eyes were suddenly fearful, watching the blade, as if expecting it to move towards her at any moment. Instead, he wordlessly cut up the jerky into small squares, and handed them to the girl.

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The Gunrunner was angry, and God help anyone in his way.

He didn't delude himself with visions of grandeur- he knew he couldn't completely bring down slavery, not after it had been so deeply imprinted into the minds of people living in the United States. But what he could do was make the disgusting excuses for human beings who had forced this girl to suffer feel the same torture, tenfold.

Suddenly he felt a wave of crushing guilt, and he gripped his head in his hands, unable to look at her. Why had he ever accepted jobs from slavers? Why had he fooled himself into thinking that simply by refusing to transport slaves, he had successfully distanced himself from the industry? No, how had he fooled his mind into thinking so? How had he allowed himself to be blinded, to be led by the nose, to be tricked? He was a fool. A damnable fool of the lowest caliber, and he was worthy of death.

And then he felt a small hand on his shoulder. The girl was leaning over his crouched form, looking worried. In his rush to blame himself, he had completely forgotten that she was there. He turned his head and gave her a reassuring smile, but she didn't seem convinced. She squatted down, grasped his left hand in both of hers, and pulled it away from his face. They stayed that way for some time, and the Gunrunner had enough time to plan a rudimetary sketch of what he would do next.

First, he would find a city at a reasonable distance from Detroit. Anywhere close, and informants would get information to the client that the Gunrunner had backstabbed him. Once he got there, he would bribe an official to add an entry for the girl, so she could go about as a normal citizen.

Secondly, he would have to train the girl. In her current state, simply giving her a citizen number and leaving her to fend for herself would be equivalent to a death sentence. He would train her to defend herself- against both men and beasts, although the line between them was rather blurred.

As he wrapped up his plan, he realized that the girl was still naked. He stood up abruptly, took off his coat, and put it on the girl.

The coat was much too big for such a young girl, and it dragged on the ground, but she showed an expression of such obvious delight that he let her be for the moment.

Where would he take her? He lingered on Philadelphia for a moment, then dismissed it as too close to New York. Undoubtedly the receiver would also be angry at the loss of the girl. Chicago? Maybe. He could also go further, but he didn't think he had enough provisions for the journey. He decided that he would stop at Chicago, since if he needed he could go from there to another city.

He turned to consider where the girl would sit, and found she had already clambered on top of the large metal box he used to carry provisions. It would do.

The Gunrunner walked to the wagon hitched to the back. Although the wagon would hinder them, the marijuana would help them get a decent bit of money. He hadn't brought much from Detroit, and if he entered the city without having delivered the girl he didn't doubt that he would be hunted. He closed the crate, and double-checked the connection for any looseness. Satisfied, he sat down on the seat, and revved the engine.

He felt tiny arms around his neck, and smiled. The girl, scared of the engine's noise, had grabbed onto him for comfort.

Yes, he would do whatever he could to make her life better. He swore on it in his mind, as the motorcycle accelerated and the girl shouted with exhilaration.