Off the edges of Ritcher's senses, where sound and touch were just about to fade, he heard the platform move down, it went somewhere deep and landed with a clank. Or at least, the person who had taken it had gone somewhere with a clank. He stood by the edge of the guard rail, in front of the track, his hand against the metal as a sheet of sand solidified below his feet, it traveled along the air and down to the floor. He floated along, as if on a magic carpet, to the point at which he had heard the elevator rise above the sandy track and fall. The metal door covering it was broken, he stuck his finger in the gap and pulled. It moved up some and hearing inside, there was nothing but the buzzing sound of sparks flying out.

"Rat." He said and jumped away from the platform, out to the spiral and from there, jumped down to the first floor. A long drop, what must have been at least fifteen feet. A green glow from his eyes, and green veins, seemed to guard him though. He struck the floor, and the shock went up to his legs, traversing along the veins and out to his shoulder. All kinetic force, absorbed through the small green capillaries.

The holes on the door were there along with the sand dissolved on the floor below them and each step he took forward moved the black sand up and into the air, summoned almost like a dog by his very presence.

"Where are you?" He pushed the doors open, they rolled back and forth before petering off to silence. "Rats, hello?"

He walked up, the corpses were laid out in front of him, their hands stiff and cold, arms extended out as if in prayer. He could feel the outline of their bodies through the displaced sand that floated around him. Most of them were on their backs, and their dry skin cracked, skin shavings peeled off from the mummies with each of his foot steps as he walked through the halls. Behind him, like a kind of tail or garb, a trail of black sand follow Ritcher.

No light came from the window, yellow tape and metal sheets covered most of the outside windows, a few had open patches in the glass. Only cool air came through.

Fine. He sniffed.

Not even a scent. It was all corpse here, mummified and sweet.

He tapped his cane on the floor. Nothing.

And he raised it to his armpit and stood center-most of the room.

"We're here." The voice came soft and gentle. It was a woman, she was in the furthest section of the room, next to a hole in the glass that whistled with the air outside. Her soft sounds had been too subtle, too nuanced for him to isolate.

"We?" He asked. His head darted across, a full three-sixty as he searched for the sound. And there was a sound, more than just her voice. A rumbling that came from somewhere he could not point out. A noise that came from the walls and the ceiling and then...the floor.

He jumped. A giant wave of black sand followed him, providing a platform for him to stand.

From below, going straight up. A worm erected itself from the floor to the ceiling, destroying and mutilating a full floor worth of stuff. It rained down; the slot machines, some bodies, beds, potted plants, bars, alcohol. Glass and flesh and concrete and metal came roaring down, blitzed to fine powder. It rained down on him. The worm rose up, through the ceilings and then slithered along the floor above. His carapace (at least, it sounded like he had one given the clanks and hard-bumping along the floor) shuffled through the turns, the metal-like armor it wore chafed against the floor and carpet.

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"A worm?" He laughed. "A worm is going to eat me? You've been watching too many films."

"No. I am."

Another voice, to his right. He heard someone jump off a wall, heading towards him. Not a worm this time, the wind was not breaking in front of him. No, it was a small body.

Ritcher shot out a wave of black sand. It went forward and caught the person midway, which, judging by the groan, was Kacey.

The sister had remained still. She hadn't moved, and if she had, he was sure he'd hear the broken glass below her feet.

"The lion is dead, isn't it? Otherwise, you wouldn't have needed to take such a drastic measure." He brought Kacey closer, gripping him in a small coffin of sand. It held him still, everything but his neck and mouth. "She won't attack. She wouldn't risk killing you."

Kacey came to his face, Ritcher could smell the musk of his sweat, strong and salty. It smelled like grease, grit underneath a rock, a mineral scent that carried into his tongue and the back of his palate.

Pennies.

"Do you have anything to say?" Ritcher asked. "Or have you come to confess before your death?"

Kacey took a deep breath. His heartbeat slow, Ritcher could feel it in his sandy grip, the rhythmic and even pacing of his heart slowly lifting the sand that held him in place. Not an ounce of fear. Not an ounce of any feeling, at all. And though he had sweated, he wasn't anymore. And though he was strained and stressed and hot in the head before, he was quiet now.

Kacey came up (or rather, was brought up) to Ritcher's face. The sister, behind the two of them on the furthest end, stifled a small heckle.

Kacey took a deep one, a giant gulp of air as he'd just come from drowning. Ritcher felt it, like a vacuum or vortex.

Then Kacey stifled a laugh.

"That's your problem. You know that?" Kacey said. "You're too full of yourself."

Heat came from Kacey's face, from his eye. It bled. The blood ran down the black sand, down to the actual platform of which he stood on.

Ritcher extended his hand out, immediately. He gestured. The hand of sand closed in on Kacey, to crush him.

But it didn't even get close to that.

Something struck him. A force, maybe? Or something…contracting and suddenly expanding. It was like a trampoline launch.

His body flew out. It slammed against the wall furthest from him, the blunt force traveled through his veins, but with no means of dispersion, it pained him. A sharp pain, right along his lower back. Chips of marble fell from where he had struck against.

His head rattled. Shaking hands struggled to lock, to lift himself from the floor.

"W-what?" Ritcher asked. His cane laid by his side, he felt it bump into his body as he skid along the floor in the confused frenzy. His hands raced to catch the stick.

The room shook again. Twice as much, twice as many monstrosities were here now.

And he heard Jaimi in the corner, he could almost hear her smugness, almost feel the smile burning into him.

"I thought you wouldn't get eaten by a worm?" She asked.

He was blind. But he could still feel, hear, smell, taste even.

Blood. Destruction, all manners of in the form of sediment and wood and old corpse flesh - falling on him from the floor above.

It was hard to miss.

The worm took up all the real-estate, after all. He figured it must have been twenty yards wide, given the sudden coolness in the air as the heat of the work-lights seemingly vanished. The worm's shadow must have eaten them. Just like the worm itself, was about to do.

He guessed it must have been draconian, by the way, the wind shifted and broke and ran away from the monster. Or by the way, the earth hesitated, and quivered.

All black sand around him collected to a spot, below his feet. He looked up, though he could not see.

And the only thing he could really feel after a while was dampness. Moisture. And then, all of a sudden, muscles crushing him.

He gagged. He coughed, as he was swallowed whole