Sabir leaned back in his seat. Peering at each house they went past with awe, as the car glided through the cobblestone roads. Sector 5 appeared like a scene from a fairy tale, with everything so pristine and elegant, that looking at the striking architecture looming over commuters, you would have never guessed the horrors behind Havana’s walls.

He couldn’t help but stare, searing every single archway and bridge into his memory. The houses that they went past blended together brick and stone and elaborate wall padding, a testament to the skilled craftsmanship. These weren’t houses. No.

It was art.

Large windows littered each building, allowing light to flood the interiors, while the gable and hipped roofs gave a regal appearance, of a crown on top of a house, fit for a person living in Sector 5. It was a place that seemed untouched by decay that Sabir was all too familiar with.

“Sector 5 huh,” he thought, “This place is unreal. Got to give the Voltaires some credit. I guess they got some style.”

As they moved further through the sector, the streets were set ablaze with activity. Cars lined the streets either parked by different stores or driving somewhere, each vehicle sleek and modern, that fit perfectly within the backdrop. They weaved through the narrow roads with ease, their engines humming softly. But it wasn’t the cars that held Sabir’s attention; it was the people.

They didn’t seem like humans, the way they strutted through the streets, their chins raised high and their posture so upright. Their clothing looked bizarre to Sabir. Although the quality was undeniable, they seemed far too elaborate, lacking any practicality. Long, flowing fabrics that would catch on the slightest edge, intricate designs that seemed to be more of a burden than a benefit.

All of it, a desperate attempt to flaunt their riches.

“Ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath. Yet his voice was audible within the awkward confines of the car. Elektra, who sat away from him on the other side, peeked at him.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Sabir quickly replied.

Elektra simply smirked, her attention returning to the road ahead as the car slowed down. They were approaching a building that immediately stood out from the rest of Sector 5’s polished perfection. It was a striking structure, its exterior painted in deep purples and blacks. The color scheme was almost aggressive in its boldness, like a bruise against the otherwise pristine landscape.

As they came to a stop, Sabir noticed the name “Oasis,” shining seductively in elegant, gold letters under the streetlights. The letters seemed to almost pulse with a life of their own, as if beckoning passersby to step closer. Deep, velvety purple lights that cast a soft, alluring glow framed the entrance, completely different to what Sabir could see, on the inside from the paneled windows of the door, where there were no lights and only a trial of darkness.

“Get out,” Elektra ordered, opening her door and stepping onto the street without waiting for a response.

Sabir and Warren exchanged glances before following suit. Sabir’s loafers clicked against the cobblestones as he stepped out, the sound echoing in the quiet afternoon. The driver remained in the car, as instructed.

Sabir raised his head as he stared. The entire building exuded an aura of forbidden temptation, like a siren’s call in the night. Completely different to the elegance of that found throughout Sector 5. It was as if the building, this Oasis, was mocking the ideals of decorum and restraint that were synonymous with the area. Its very presence an invitation to indulge in the vices hidden behind its doors. Once Warren opened the car door and let Sabir out, Sabir couldn’t resist being drawn in, pure curiosity pulling him closer to the entrance.

“Woah, hold on Sabir,” Warren called out to him.

“Hold on, I’m just checking.” Sabir replied. As he edged closer to the entrance, golden accents adorned the double door entrance, a deep, almost hypnotic shade of burgundy painted the door entrance, a color that seemed to pulse with an inner heat. The intricate carvings on the doors depicted scenes of debauchery, figures entwined in pleasure, faces twisted in ecstasy, their bodies blending into one another in a chaotic, yet somehow mesmerizing, tapestry of vice. It was impossible to look away.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

As Sabir stood there by the door, peering in from the inside, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. The Oasis was not just a building; it was a promise of the forbidden, a place where the rigid rules that the Voltaires set were defied. The colors, the lights, the very design of the structure seemed to seduce the senses, pulling at the edges of his restraint. It was a place where one could lose themselves entirely, body, mind, and soul.

“Warren, keep your dog in control,” Elektra hissed, as she adjusted her skirt.

“Yeah. Yeah, bad Sabir. Anyway, what’s this place?” Warren asked, pulling Sabir back towards the car.

“It’s a club.”

“What kind of club?” Sabir asked, unable to hide his curiosity.

Elektra and Warren both turned to look at him, and for a moment, Sabir felt a wave of unease wash over him. Elektra’s lips curled into a smile, but it wasn’t a kind one. It was the smile that made Sabir want to retreat, to disappear into the shadows.

“The kind of place an innocent lamb, like you, shouldn’t be,” Elektra said, and then she burst into laughter, the sound ringing out through the afternoon air. Warren tried to stifle a laugh but failed, his shoulders shaking as he joined in.

Sabir rolled his eyes in annoyance. “So what is it like, a brothel or something, a place you pay for sex?”

Elektra wiped a tear from her eye, her laughter subsiding into a smirk. “I’ll forgive you for speaking out of turn, Sabir. Clearly, you’re... well, let’s just say, not quite all there.”

Sabir clenched his fists in anger, but took a deep breath, holding his tongue. He knew better than to argue with her, especially when her mood could change on a whim. Warren, sensing his irritation, rushed to make him feel better. “You see, a club is a place to party, y’know, get your dance on, have a good time. Brothels aren’t exactly legal in Sector 5.”

“Right.” Sabir sighed as he put his hands in the pockets of his pants.

“Well, come on, let’s head inside.” Warren said, as he pulled Sabir towards the entrance this time. But as they moved toward the door, Elektra suddenly stopped, as she looked at Sabir, staring at his slicked back hair, then towards his suit.

“On second thought,” she said, turning to Sabir, “you stay outside.”

“What?” Sabir’s voice betrayed his surprise. “But I’m Warren’s servant. I’m supposed to stay with him.”

Elektra raised an eyebrow, her gaze piercing through him. “You’re staying here, Sabir. You’ll just be in the way.”

He couldn’t let this happen. The whole reason, he was still here, the reason he didn’t run away as soon as he had the chance. He had to meet Vincent Voltaire. His mind scrambled for a response. Some way to convince her he needed to be there, but before he could say anything more, Warren stepped in.

“Don’t worry, Sabir,” Warren whispered, leaning in close. “I’ll find out everything you need to know. Just wait here.”

Sabir wanted to argue, but upon seeing Warren’s eyes bulge, he understood the message. Don’t get him in any trouble. This was a closed case. Don’t bother arguing. Reluctantly, he nodded, stepping back as Warren and Elektra moved toward the entrance. Sabir watched as Elektra approached the door, her posture radiating confidence.

Warren looked back at Sabir and gave him a nod, one of gratitude and also determination. There was no issue of trust between the both of them.

Elektra’s hand shot out, and she pounded on the door with a force that made it rattle in its frame. When there was no immediate response, she screamed, “I’m entering, so you’d better be ready!” Then, without warning, she kicked the door open with a force that made Sabir wince. The door dropped to the ground in defeat, completely broken.

Warren facepalmed, shaking his head. “Couldn’t we have just knocked?”

Elektra turned to him, her smirk returning. “What’s the fun in that, Warren? Don’t be such a pussy.”

“-Oh and Sabir, stand by the door, make sure to not let anyone in. That’s a good boy.” Elektra waved her hand at him as he saw them both disappear inside, leaving Sabir alone. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked around. The street was quiet now, the sounds of the bustling city distant, almost as if the world had given him a moment of solitude. He leaned against the wall of the club, staring at the broken down door and wondering what was happening inside.

Several minutes had passed, there wasn’t even a squeak coming from within the building. Sabir’s anxiety grew with each passing second. The thought of the truth slipping away from him gnawed at him. He felt useless standing out here, like a discarded tool.

Another fifteen minutes went by when a loud explosion rocked the street, the sound reverberating through the air like a thunderclap. Sabir’s heart leapt into his throat as he stared at the building in shock. Smoke billowed from the windows, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Without thinking, Sabir bolted toward the door. His mind raced, filled with fear for Warren’s safety. Not aware of what was happening inside, he couldn’t simply stand there and be idle. He had to know what had happened. He had to make sure Warren was safe.

Sabir reached the door and pushed it open, the hinges creaking as the heavy wood gave way. Inside, the air was thick with smoke, the acrid scent burning his nostrils. He could barely see through the haze, but he pushed forward, driven by a singular thought: he had to find Warren.

The sound of chaos filled the air, shouts, the clatter of debris, the crackle of flames. Sabir’s heart pounded in his chest as he stepped into the unknown, unsure of what awaited him in the depths of Oasis.