Chapter XXXV
At the Top of His World
A hundred and eight minutes earlier, Zanda found herself in front of a massive window overlooking Dictaduria at the top of Muntana. From a distance, she could see a small Dicterium floating above the concrete plateau, expansive to all directions. The city was encircled by industrial zones of power plants and factories that spewed pollutants into the surrounding areas. A lifeless forest bordered the ocean far in the horizon’s right side, which mirrored the moonlight on its opposite shore.
The loft was large, divided by a few stained glass walls. Inside, there was a kitchen adjacent to a dining room, a large living room, half a dozen bedrooms, numerous bathrooms. An open balcony led to an abyss, featuring an infinite pool and a garden adorned with exquisite topiary sculptures that encircled a massive white circular couch laden with resting bodies. The atmosphere was relaxed with a few ongoing conversation cutting through a hard rock tune.
As Yistel and Zanda approached, the pungent odors of cigarettes, drugs, and alcohol intensified. Emerging from the center, Gorbat appeared, clad only in a pair of golden boxers, his belly marred by unsightly tattoos.
"It's late, and I'm busy. I presume there's a reason for this intrusion," Gorbat said, picking up a robe from the ground and approaching them.
Zanda focused on the group of individuals around them, some drunk, others high, and a few doing both. Some were scantily clad, others, wore nothing. A few we're ost in their own worlds, far from reality. Some engaged in intimate encounters, while more exchanged gossip.
"I've located Corven," Yistel announced to Gorbat, his voice laden with excitement and pride.
Liar.
"Excellent! Marvelous job, I was about to tell you to furk off! Has the interrogation started?" Gorbat's annoyance dissipated as he absorbed the news with pleasure.
"As soon as I return downstairs, we will commence, sir," Yistel replied, his smile repugnant.
"And who will conduct it?" His boss inquired, pacing before him.
"Me, Wuzan, and Olia."
"That should suffice. Proceed then, don't linger here more than you should!"
"If you permit, sir. I'd like to introduce a friend of mine, Elia," Yistel said, gesturing to the woman behind him.
“A pleasure, sir. What an honor is to be before you.”
Gorbat's dark gaze swept over her form, a lecherous smirk appearing right away.
"Elia, the pleasure is mine," he said, attempting seduction as he extended his hand toward her.
Zanda met his gesture with invisible reluctance, uncertain of what to expect.
Gorbat took her hand, kissing it with delicacy.
"I appreciate your hospitality..." She fought the urge to retch within her merkabah.
"What minor transgression led those fools to condemn such exquisite beauty to a concrete wasteland like Dictaduria?"
"I killed a friend in a dispute," Elia revealed, her eyes brimming with feigned sorrow.
"That's all?" He seemed appalled. "Forget it, darling. These things happen. I've had to eliminate several close associates over the years. Here, we don't dwell on trivial matters."
"His entire family despises me," Zanda struggled to maintain her composure.
Gorbat's laughter erupted, his face reddening.
"You mustn't concern yourself with others' judgments. Everyone has their views and none will align with yours, trust me," he said, finding a new target. "Forget them. Join us. We'll become your new family here in Dictaduria."
He waited for his words to take the desired effect.
"What would you have me do?" The innocence in her voice aimed too deceive primal beings blocked in their sacral chakra.
"For now, mingle and enjoy our gathering. We have plenty of substances to indulge in and escape reality. Or, if you prefer, there's an abundance of alcohol," Gorbat said, his grin widening, eager to draw her closer.
"That sounds enticing, sir. I've not allowed myself such freedoms in ages," Zanda said, her tone dripping with disdain, yet designed to appease.
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"Drop the formality," he instructed. "If you abide by my rules, we'll get along fine, dear."
"Which rules?" Zanda pretended to be oblivious to his advance.
Gorbat raised his left fist and extended the index finger. "I'm in charge," he declared, then his middle finger, "No questions," and his ring finger, "Don’t betray me. Break any of these rules, and you'll not live to regret it. No one ever has."
Her expression mirrored Yllen's fear, convincing enough to turn his attention back to his underling.
"We're settled then; keep me posted about Corven. Your friend stays with me."
"Yes, sir," Yistel bowed and departed without a glance back at her.
Zanda, successful with her undercover, stood beside Gorbat, the architect of most illegal activities within Dictaduria. She felt his sense of belonging.
Unnoticed by her until then, Gorbat was now holding a rolled joint in his left hand. He eyed her in a manner that made her skin crawl, his intentions naked in his gaze.
"Do you want a smoke? My blunt contains some H21. It'll put you in the same mood as us; what do you say?" Everything about him was creepy, like a scorpion coiling into itself.
"Sure, it seems like fun," Zanda thought it was an excellent opportunity to engage with him. She took the cigar and took a considerable drag from it. Pagreri's Sacrorum maintained the illusion while her merkabah filtered the smoke.
The leader of Negativus, satisfied, took back the blunt and led her to the couch where all his companions were waiting.
"Bring that joint back!" one of them demanded.
"Hush, or you won't get any, Mesel," he replied, placing one knee on the white velvet couch and leaning in to caress his hair.
Mesel glanced at him and, in a tantrum, ignored Gorbat.
"How did you get H21 in here?" Zanda asked out of curiosity, using her naivety to coax information from him.
"I said no questions, but, let’s say I'm a man of many resources. No Culter can stop me from getting what I want; Negativus is my empire in the shadows, you'll see. What was your name again? Elana? Elen? Ela, Eeyla, uh, la, la?" He burst into laughter at his own joke, alone.
"Elia," she felt her dislike for him grow with every word he uttered.
Gorbat seized her right arm.
"I like it. Innocent and pure, yet enigmatic. We will work together to balance your other side. Don't worry about it."
"What other side?" she inquired.
He removed his hand, without noticing anything unusual. An unexpected break came to the gevurah’s ear.
"Did you think it was all for show? Your suit emulates the texture of skin too," Pagreri's voice boasted through her T.H.I.C.
Zanda admired the professor's commitment to his ventos.
"Come on over; we don't bite..." Gorbat called her, "until we do. Under the right circumstances, of course."
She found herself amidst a sea of H21 addicts, with their leader lying in an accessible spot among their bodies. Zanda witnessed a bizarre yet beautiful scene. Gorgeous, exotic people either paid attention to her or ignored the unfolding events. A woman with bronze skin and messy curly hair kissed Gorbat, attempting to snatch the H21 joint.
She observed the nameless dictadurians: some naked, others half-dressed, a mix of different races and genders. It was clear Gorbat had a taste for beauty.
A man with blue hair caught her eye and smiled, nodding to his left where there was space for Zanda to sit. A dark-skinned woman with a white mesh attire and a shaved head was asleep on his right shoulder.
Gorbat's attention turned to the woman sharing a joint with him. The false Yllen walked around and climbed behind the couch, joining the blue-haired man.
"I'm Omaris," he introduced himself as she sat. The music in the background was loud enough to mask their whispers from Gorbat.
"Elia," they bumped fists.
"Welcome to the degenerates' favorite playground," he said, hissing in a mystic yet satirical tone.
"Is everyone high?" Zanda asked, already knowing the answer.
"Is that too obvious? Tag along for another one! It helps to endure this furkano until tomorrow."
"A tempting offer," she replied with caution. "But I'm okay after that hit."
Gorbat had begun to get intimate with that woman, lost in his trip.
"Suit yourself; it's your choice. I can't do it sober. What comes next isn't pretty," Omaris turned serious after her refusal.
"What is next?" she probed.
"A lot of sadistic BDSM. It's Gorbat's favorite nightly routine. Nasty stuff, but it pays good gatvits..." The gevurah pondered how to escape this situation. Her gaze wandered over the people around her, most sporting large bruises.
"Not with me," Zanda's anger towards Gorbat intensified by the minute.
"It's going to happen," Omaris insisted, wanting her to accept the inevitable. "It's a matter of time, that’s what you’re here right? Every night, he starts with his new toys. It's better if you're out of your mind when it happens."
"Can't I say no?" She struggled to contain her fury.
"It won't end well if you do," he confessed.
The gevurah felt she could arrest Gorbat right then and there, desiring to do so but strong enough to hold herself from taking any rushed decisions.
****
That's it for Chapter XXXV!
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