It was blinding. The street, the people, their laughs, their looks, their clothes, fucking everything is way too shining, and how can we forget the neon lights. If you wave your head around hard enough or down a few drinks first the whole city transforms itself into a mimic of the rainbow. Sinister, overly decorated, unapologetically beautiful just like the vibe this city is trying so hard to conjure.

It had many names. Officially it's called Faust, unofficially-hell hole, nirvana, city of dreamers or dreamers, called by someone more cynical than me. As for me, Euforia is the right one.

I walk past the seventh vending machine I saw tonight then turn left and descend the stairway (that is hard to find at first glance) to get away from the lights and for some other purposes. The wooden stairs make a little cracking noise with every step I take, it's either the constructer of this building didn't plan for it to survive this long, or some junkies or hobos are trying to build their paradise down there, I guess that speculations apply to everyone in the city too.

The first-floor underground is sealed up and occupied by some of the local gang members; the door is half open and I see a glimpse of four tattooed-up Chinese playing mahjong before the well-dressed fifth one appears and closes the door silently, think I still own him the lighter I borrow on a raining day.

On the second floor underground there is an elevator (not certain what kind of genius would build one at b2) if you go in there you will find out this small building right next to the main street has more underground floors than city hall parking spaces but my destination is next to the rusty elevator door so I’m not gonna give you a tour yet.

Next to the elevator door is an obviously modified blast door that somehow doesn't look out of place in this environment and a neon billboard with "no kids, no dogs, no strangers" on it, and if you look closely the [a] on the last letter have a pinhole camera on it.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Few well-calculated knocks on the door and the peephole that's visible from the outside opened, (I've learned the hard way that there is more than one on the door) the warm lights inside escape through the 5 times 15 little gap on the door to the diming basement outside "didn't notice how much dusts are in the air until now", I thought. But the lights that escaped and the ones trying to got lock back inside as soon as the warden recognized me. A few seconds later, with a long drag, the door opened. ***

Warden is kind of a nickname for the gatekeeper of this place, people I talked to don't know his real name, I do not know his real name, I think the bartender told me before, but I was too drunk to remember it.

“Evening, warden.”

“Business or others?

“A bit of both.

Good talk, he never was a talkative person, if I have to guess—he's probably in his 40s, jacked up to the point even after he opened the door his figure can still block out all sights and curious peeks from strangers and brainless brats, he looks Hispanic but probably not from south Europe or South America, no, even the strong and silent type from those regions are way too talkative, he has a scar on his neck that is half hidden behind his collar if you're observant enough you can also notice that he probably have full body tattoo but ruined by that scar. But the guy wears a jacket in all four seasons so there is no way to tell if my guess is right.

Warden shifts his figure to the right to fully open the door(shitty design but it does the work) as he motions to the handle I take two steps forward and bypass him while facing right too, at that split second when both of our focus is on a blind spot.

There is something behind me, the space is too crank for me to turn my head so I quicken two more steps forward through the security block (as we like to call it) then immediately turn back facing the entrance while my right-hand shifts toward the inside of my jacket there is no one there, following my line of sight and with a slightly more serious face the warden quickly turn his head the same way then throw me a troubled gaze.

“You need a drink fast, you're even tenser than me.”

Coming from him, this is kind of troublesome to hear, since usually he otters only single words and that was a fullsentence.

“It's probably because the night’s still young.” I shrug.

He didn't say anything, thank fuck. As he closes that steel wall. I walk inside The one and only {stynx}. It’s a bar mixed with some business rooms and some small-time casinos (The big one is at b7 this one is not exactly approved by them, but since it is usually just some friends having something to do while they drink, the cutthroats on b7 don't really care) and a little bit of everything, some say this place is the miniature of euphoria. I half agreed, for me, the body count in this place doesn't resemble the city too well.