A/N: I hope you enjoyed chapter 1! More characters in this one, a tad of character development maybe?
Warnings: some rude language, sexual assault, and mentions of the violence in chapter 1. Enjoy!

The week had gone by agonizingly slowly and much too fast all at once. Finn had spoken to the owner of the apartment building and got Blaine a reservation to be interviewed by the Ro who owned it- it didn't guarantee him a room, but it was a start. He was walking toward the building, dressed as nice as he could get- his hair gelled down within an inch of its life (thanks to Rachel) and fit snugly beneath his cap, a clean light blue shirt, and a pair of dark pants that were just a tad too big for him. He would've looked nicer if he didn't only have one pair of shoes that were old and frayed, but it was the best he could get. His green band was bound tightly around his right arm, as usual, and that earned him a dirty look or two on his way to the apartment. He was used to it. He couldn't help but smirk slightly as he thought of what his sister had said a week ago- "People may respect you more when you look sophisticated." What a big, damned lie. He thought to himself. No matter how presentable he made himself appear, everyone would simply see him for what he truly was: a Mo. Mos weren't to be trusted. They were disgusting, who often got their pay by selling themselves to rich Ros, often politicians who kept their acts secret. There wasn't a place for them on this planet- that's why they were convicted of silly crimes, such as stealing a moldy loaf of bread from a dumpster behind a restaurant, and Ros bid on them, and the highest bidder was given the chance to publicly beat or murder them however they pleased.

Blaine sighed and took off his cap as he entered the apartment building. He glanced up as he heard someone clear their throat, seeing an older man wearing thick rimmed glasses, a nice dark button down and jeans- odd enough, most men had to wear formal attire at work- and he was bound to a wheelchair, it seemed. Blaine's eyes widened slightly as he pulled his band off of his coat and went to put it around his arm as he shrugged off the garment. The man held up a hand, giving Blaine a tiny smile. "It's fine, you don't have to wear that in here." He said, setting his hand back down in his lap. Blaine swallowed and nodded, pocketing his band and draping his coat over his arm. "You're… Mr. Abrams, right?" He asked softly. "Arthur Abrams?"

"Call me, Artie. You must be the Mo the butcher told me about." Blaine swallowed again and nodded awkwardly. "Don't worry," Artie said quickly, turning in his wheelchair and rolling toward a small room by a staircase. Blaine followed suit, holding his coat close to him. "I've got nothing against Mos- I'm actually in a small association trying to end Mo auctions and abuse." Blaine breathed out a small sigh as Artie pulled his wheelchair up behind a cluttered desk and gestured to a chair in front of it. He sat down, crossing his legs and draping his coat over his lap. "That's… that's great and all, but could we… get to the interview?" Blaine said awkwardly, emotionally folding in on himself while trying to appear confident at the same time. Artie nodded," folding his hands on top of the desk. "Of course. Are you currently employed?"

"No, but Finn- the… the butcher- is trying to find me and my sister a job."

"Is your sister a Mo, too?"

"N-no. She's engaged to Finn. They're getting married in a month." Artie nodded slowly, looking down at a stack of papers in front of him. "It says here that before you were banded you worked in your mother's bakery? How old were you, then?"

"Eleven. I was banded when I was fourteen. A year later, my… my parents died."

"How?"

"Um…" Blaine cleared his throat, looking down. "Someone set our house on fire. My sister and me got okay- minor bones, a fracture here and there from… falling down the stairs, but… we were okay. Our parents… they were out cold."

"My… apologies out to you and your sister. Now… you've lived with your sister ever since the fire, you've been able to support yourself with odd jobs, you've never gotten into any trouble with the police… you had a few issues with Ros in school and what not but other than that, your record is clean…" Artie thumbed through the papers slowly before looking up at Blaine with a slight smile. "I have a room that should be able to support you… you'll probably need a part-time job to keep up with payments, but other than that…" He shrugged. "I might as well welcome you to the building now." Blaine smiled slightly, reaching out across the table in hopes Artie wouldn't be too disgusted to shake his hand. "Thank you so much." He said, eyes widening in slight shock as Artie reached up and firmly shook his hand. "Anything for a friend in need."

Blaine hummed softly to himself, adjusting the band on his arm as he tugged his only suitcase behind him awkwardly down the Mo side of the street, the only light around him coming from the few streetlamps on the edge of the sidewalk. Not only was he moving out of what was going to be solely his sister's apartment, but he was also moving into a building owned by a Ro who didn't hate Mos. The entire situation kind of made him want to dance in the street. He actually felt like a person for once. He slowed his gate when he heard the sound of a small struggle, stopping when he peered around a corner.

"Isn't she a beauty?" slurred a tall man with much too long red hair as he gripped the arm of a thin Mo with sloppily dyed pink hair and smeared dark eyeliner and lipstick. "Let me go, you asshole-" She growled, trying to pull out of the man's grasp, only to get struck hard in the cheek. "You don't talk to a Ro like that, you bitch!" He shouted, grabbing the back of her tattered shirt as she got out of his grasp, ripping a deep hole into it. The Mo screamed as the man pulled her body against his own, grabbing at the hem of her long skirt. "Get the fuck off me!" She cried, eyes watering as her skirt was yanked up to her knees. The man and the few drunken friends surrounding him laughed darkly as a hand slipped up her skirt.

Blaine couldn't help himself any longer. He knew he could get in serious trouble with this, possibly even arrested, but he could watch a Mo- no, a girl, a helpless girl get attacked like this.

"Hey!" He shouted, storming over. The red headed man looked up, silent until he saw the green band around his arm. He smirked crookedly, shoving the girl into one of his friends. "So it's true. Mos stick together. You mad that your girlfriend over here is a slut? You-"

He was cut off as Blaine delivered a swift punch to his jaw. The redheaded man grunted and fell backwards into the alley wall, his friends pushing the Mo away and advancing toward him. Blaine's eyes went wide and he quickly pushed away from them, grabbing the girl's hand and running as fast as he could out of the alley, grabbing his suitcase on the way. "You gonna try to rape me, too, faggot?" She growled, attempting to wriggle out of Blaine's grasp.

"I'm trying to help you, just come on! Tell me where you live and I'll take you there!" The girl obviously couldn't think of a proper response and went silent for a moment, then rattled off her address quietly. "If you don't know where that is, it's the little apartment building by the St. Charity Post Office." She said. Blaine blinked a few times before throwing a glance over his shoulder at her. "That's… funny, I'm… actually moving in there. S'where I was heading when I found you."

"Yeah, hilarious, totally, now can we stop talking while we're running there?" She hissed, grabbing Blaine's suitcase from his hands and swinging the handle over her shoulder, picking up her pace and ending up in front of Blaine, dragging him behind her instead.

"So, this has happened before?" Blaine asked as him and the Mo-girl, whom he'd learned was named Lucy, but she preferred to be called Quinn. Quinn sighed and nodded, sneaking past Artie's office before pulling a box of cigarettes from the purse she had slung at her hip. "With the exception of Artie, most Ros are total assholes. Thinking they can just… jump girls like me in the middle of the night. This would never happen to Ro-girl." She looked up at Blaine, sticking a cigarette between her teeth. "You'd better hope those guys never see you again. They see you, they'll report you and you'll get auctioned off," She looked down, pulling a box of matches from her purse. "Just like a good friend of mine. I guess she was lucky, really. Her…" She cleared her throat. "Her girlfriend jumped up on the stage trying to pull her down. A… a fucking cop shot them both in the head. I don't know what they did with her body." Blaine blinked a few times as Quinn lit her cigarette. "I… you knew her?" He asked quietly. Quinn nodded, taking a long drag off her cigarette. "Her name was Santana. She punched a guy who tried to grab her ass and he turned her in. Her girlfriend, Brittany, was devastated. Thought she could jump up and grab her without anyone seeing her." Blaine swallowed, looking down and stuffing his free hand into his pocket. "I… I saw that happen," He said softly. Quinn blew out a stream of smoke and looked over at Blaine. "Yeah, the entire town did. I didn't think you were the type to watch auctions."

"N-no, I…" He cleared his throat. "I was in Hudson's Fine Meats at the time. The butcher shop in the square? My… sister and I were shopping and… well, you know Mos aren't allowed to speak unless spoken to, and I was… standing by the window when…" Quinn had looked away from him at this point and nodded. "So you weren't watching but you were… watching."

"I… I guess."

Quinn nodded again, as they walked past door after green striped door, then stopped as they reached a green striped door with the room number 309 on a gold plate hammered into it. "Here's me." She said, leaning against the door. Blaine nodded slowly, looking down for a moment. "Well… it was nice meeting you."

"Yeah, so nice to meet the lesbian about to get fucked in an alley by some asshole and his asshole friends." She said coldly before smiling sadly. "Sorry. I… I don't get along well with new people."

"It's… fine, I totally get it." Blaine gave her a slight smile, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder. "Take care of yourself, Lucy." He said. Quinn faked a sweet smile, reaching over to punch him in the arm. Blaine winced, holding his arm. "Don't call me that."

Blaine sighed contently as he got his room key and unlocked the door to his new home- the small but comfortable apartment 410 in Abrams's Apartments. He pushed open the door and strode in, setting his suitcase down at the foot of the bed. He looked around the room, admiring the fact there was a window near the bed, looking out over the edge of the city and beyond. Blaine began to wonder quietly to himself if cities everywhere were like this- segregated like this. Where gay people and straight people didn't fight or murder one another for fun. He wondered if there was a place where he didn't have to be branded as something different than everyone else. He hummed softly as he took off his cap and coat, walking over to the closet to hang them up. But when he opened up the door he found something a bit extra to his room.

A pale, green-eyed boy curled up in a ball on the floor with a green band around his arm.

A/N: Reviews are greatly appreciated!