[ WP ] In the future , technology exists to transfer one person 's conciousness to another body , giving identity theft a whole new meaning . Write about the identity black market .

Body markets were always filthy. The man had been to many, searching, always searching for the his new body. He was old, and dying, but he was rich. Filthy, exorbitantly rich. His entourage cut through the grimy Indian market, steam rising from vents in the ground, smoke from the food stalls lining the alley filling the air. The crowded passage easily made way for him. The locals knew what he was here for. They knew to stay out of the rich men's ways. 
 
 The man and his body guards turned off the shady alleyway into an even darker one. Here the food stalls stopped, replaced by stores with dubious purposes and men with hard looks in their eyes. Most averted their gaze when the man looked at them. Even the lowest of trash has respect for his power. The man stopped in front of one shop with boarded and darkened windows. His guard fanned around him, staring holes in any person curious enough to look their way. `` Stay here. This is it.'' The man told his guards. They shifted anxiously, but complied. 
 
 The man opened the door and stepped into the musty, dark storefront. It smelled like shit, and the only illumination came from a single lightbulb hanging on the ceiling. The disinterested store owner, a grey haired wisp of a human, glanced up at the man, once. A spark flashed in his eye, and turned away, walking into the back of the store. The man followed. The owner walked deeper into the store, turning left and right, navigating his way further and further into the building. He entered a side door, and the man followed him inside. When he entered the room, the man was gone. The door closed behind him, the only light in the room vanished, and the sound of grinding gears and heaving machinery filled the room. The floor descended suddenly, lowering further and further into the ground. 
 
 After what seemed like an eternity the floor came to a stop. A door opened in front of the man, flooding the room with brilliant, blinding, white light. The man blinked, once, twice, as his eyes adjusted. When he could finally see, he smiled. The door opened into a large amphitheater filled with people. Overseers with guns watched as prisoners were ushered into various pens surrounding the ground floor. No, not prisoners. Bodies. Most were young, pretty looking things, both make and female. All looked scared, with thick metal collars surrounding their necks. None had a mark on their bodies, to preserve their value. The center of the arena was dominated by a large stage, where bodies stood in a line waiting to be called up to be auctioned off. One Body tried to run off, fighting an overseer and jumping off the auction block. He managed three steps before his collar lit up, and his body spasmed and fell to the ground, paralyzed. His body was dragged off, into one of the holding pens. 
 
 Sitting in chairs in front of the stage stood well dressed, affluent looking people of all ethnicities. Most were old, accompanied by a guard or a handpiece. All had a look of malicious hunger on their faces. The man descended the steps into the Body Market.
