“Oh, the two of you are heading out?” Ricky said as Elissa led Abe toward the door.

“Shut up!”

Abe frowned and shrugged, closing the door behind them.

“You,” Elissa sniffed, her head jerking from side to side as she looked down at the town. “Find that worm Emil and get answers. Failing that, the chairman. One of those maggots will know what’s happening.”

Abe nodded, “And what about you?”

“That white bastard is mine,” she growled between gritted teeth.

He watched as she stormed toward the gate, and glanced down at the pistol strapped across his side briefly before catching up.

Cranking the vehicle into gear, they sat silently as Elissa sent them lurching down the hill.

Glancing over the front and rear seats, Abe noted the blackish blood that stained just about everything.

Ricky said she’s on the precipice of evolution, but she doesn’t seem to heal as well as me.

Elissa pulled into the center of town and ripped up the handbrake, sending the small car twirling across the frozen dirt road and mounting a curb. Grunting, she exited, slamming the door.

Looks like she’s in a good mood.

“Should we-” Abe started to say as he climbed out, but she was already storming away. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. Not like I had anything important to say anyway.”

He turned toward Emil’s store and then back to the Lada. Climbing into the driver’s seat, he pushed it into gear. Clunking and grinding, the car spat black smoke and puttered forward. A hub cap rolled free a moment later, and the car seemed to slant to one side as the clunking got louder.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Abe groaned as he pulled it to a stop and got out. Both tires that had mounted the curb were flat.

“Great, just great; thanks, Elissa. Does this shithole of a town even have mechanics?”

Jumping out of the car, Abe slammed the door, making it bounce back open.

Sighing, he glanced across to where Emil’s store was. It really wasn’t that far, but he wanted to drive. It was like a scratch. He thought it might be a dormant memory, and it annoyed him the car wasn’t going, thanks to carelessness.

“Fine, whatever,” he muttered as he crunched through the snow, shaking his head.

“Emil, you fat bastard,” Abe yelled as he banged through the front door, irritation still lining his words. Rats scattered as he burst into the backroom, but Emil’s couch was empty. “Oh, come on,” Abe grunted and kicked a can, sending half a dozen rats scurrying for the shadows.

He followed the only corridor out into the snow-covered yard littered by rusted barrels and old tires.

“Why does everything have to be so fucking annoying in this place?”

There was only silence.

“What did she say… something about a chairman? She better not have expected this guy to chuck a runner,” Abe shook his head again and headed back the way he had come.

So, where the fuck is this damn chairman meant to be anyway?

Making his way back to the big dirt road, which was as close to a main road as it got in the little town, Abe stopped.

Scanning the timber shacks and occasional run-down, uniformed, square brick apartment blocks that rose floors.

Eyes were watching him from the houses and buildings, he could smell and sense them, even if he couldn’t see most of them.

I don’t suppose any of you want to give me directions? Abe glanced around, but the fear hormones that floated along the wind told him they would rather remain hidden.

Strolling down the road, he eyed the town for anything that looked different.

For the love of all Soviet shitholes, why couldn’t they have made things look different?

Wait, what’s that? I think I’ve seen it, from the manor. Abe narrowed on the square corner of a brutalist structure. The only real discerning feature was its lack of windows. The apartment buildings were covered in the little rectangle things, but this one had at most half as many windows.

The white, square building was almost entirely void of character, besides an archway of three rectangles, like some kind of depressing, white statue before the main entrance.

If there was ever a government building in some forgotten, Soviet shithole teetering on the edge of reality, that’d be it.

Abe pushed the glass panel door open.

Gross, he glanced down at the red, fluffy carpets lined in stains and worn by the weather.

A beige reception box sat at the far end, with stiff-looking rows of chairs along the walls. Between crackling static, music played, which sounded like Russian. It begged the question of why Abe could understand everything in this place, but amidst zombies, strange shadowy figures, and an endless supply of crows, he decided he didn’t really care.

He walked up to the reception booth.

Glancing over the counter, he smiled at the little scarf-wearing babushka. Ignoring him, she shuffled papers back and forth, in the most obviously deliberate act.

Abe stared down for a moment longer before dinging the bell.

Another awkwardly long moment passed as she pressed papers together before she looked up.

“Hello,” Abe said.

“What?” the babushka snapped with a sniffle, pulled out an old handkerchief, and blew loudly.

“I’m looking for a chairman, you don’t happen to have one of those around here, do you?”

She grunted and turned back to her papers, shuffling them around before opening and closing manila folders.

“Hello?” Abe raised his voice.

“Need appointment,” she said, continuing to mutter curses under her breath. Curses that Abe could hear thanks to his heightened senses.

“Well, can I make one then,” Abe said through gritted teeth, the monster inside of him wanting to jump the booth and swing the little old lady around by her ankles.

“What, do I look like his receptionist?”

“This is a reception, isn’t it?” Abe twisted his head.

What the fuck are you doing Abe? Just walk past her, she ain’t going to stop…

“Just tell me where he is, okay?

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“Can’t do, it’s policy,” she grunted, returning to her made-up task of pretending to file.

“Oh, for fuck sake, I can rip your fucking he-”

A door creaked to his right.

“Ahem, Abraham, is it?”

Abe turned, brow raised, “Yes…”

“The Chairman has advised he wants to see you,” the man smiled with crooked, yellow teeth—holding a side door open.

“You’re lucky lady,” Abe muttered as he walked toward the open door.

They walked in silence down the narrow corridor for a moment before stopping at an old fashion, cage elevator.

The man pressed the button and turned to smile at Abe.

“New to Strigov, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Been to the planetarium yet? My children love it.”

“No, I can’t say I have.”

A ding interrupted the conversation, and the man pulled the cage back, leaned in, and pressed a button.

“It’s straight ahead when you arrive,” he said, gesturing for Abe to enter. “And do take time to visit the planetarium, it’s worth the visit.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep it in mind,” Abe said as the elevator churned, and the man tilted his head so his smiling face could follow up as he went up.

The elevator yoyoed as it ground to a stop, a ding sounding as it unlocked and he pulled open the cage door to reveal a hallway of marbled floors.

Ahh… what? A little fancier than I was expecting, that’s for sure.

Abe stepped out, and a short corridor lined by paintings carried him into a grand sunlit room, its ceilings marked by angelic mosaics, and dotted by Roman columns.

“I guess this is where all the money went, but it's certainly not that shithole outside,” he murmured as he walked, twisting to take in the mosaic’s details.

At the far end of the room, bringing in all the light were floor-to-ceiling windows, and at its center, a skinny, little old man hunched over a chessboard—an hourglass beside him. Opposite him, in a matching chair was a gold cat, one of its hands waving back and forth.

“Please, take a seat,” the old man said, hand hovering over the chest pieces.

“So, you’re the infamous chairman, I suppose?” Abe said, his boots echoing against the oversized tiles in the huge room.

The old man nodded as he took a rook and slid it across the table.

Abe’s eyes wandered between the man and the cat as he reached them.

“Please, sit,” the old man said, gesturing with a wrinkled hand to several red satin chairs that were placed several meters back.

Abe took one and pulled it toward the Chairman, and the rubber ends of the chair’s timber legs screeched against the tiles, twisting Abe’s features into a grimace. Smiling, he stopped and lifted it the rest of the way.

“It’s about time you visited,” the old man said, nodding at the cat.

Floating through the air, a pawn stepped ahead, blocking the rook’s path.

“Do you see it now?” An ethereal voice resonated along warm waves.

The chairman examined the board, pointing out the pieces as he mumbled under his breath, “Damn cat,” he sighed.

“Shall we get the tally board out?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” the chairman waved dismissively. “I’ve business to attend,” he added, wrinkling his brow with a nod toward Abe.

“I won’t forget, Fuhai Bao,” the otherworldly voice said, and the cat hovered into the air and floated away.

“Please, excuse him,” the old man smiled.

“Sorry, I’m not sure what exactly is happening right now.”

“Poor sportsmanship. The cat loves to win.”

Abe shook his head, confused.

“I was only a boy when I came here under the supervision of my uncle, who was sent to the Manchurian outskirts to act as a magistrate or xiancheng, as they were called during the time of the Great Qing.”

“Sorry,” Abe interrupted with a raised hand. “But what has this got to do with anything?”

“Hasty men don't get to eat hot tofu.”

“Sorry, but what fuck are you talking about?”

“It means take your time. Now, as I was saying-”

Abe sighed, drawing the man’s narrow gaze but he continued nonetheless.

“That was over a hundred years ago. Now, I might look old to a young man like you. But I can tell you, I drink far too much whisky to look this good or live that long.”

“Please, just tell me what are you trying to say?”

“Then the Japanese came-”

“The fucking Japanese now, are you kidding me?”

“Yes, the Japanese. And after them, the Soviets.”

“Please, one part of your crackhead tale at a time, please.”

“Do you want me to start with the Japanese or the Soviets?”

“I don’t care,” Abe sighed, leaning back into his chair. “Just make it make sense.”

“Okay,” Fuhai Bao said, nodding thoughtfully as he stroked white whiskers that might have been mistaken for a poorly grown beard. “When me and my uncle came, this place looked very different. Back then, we still carried scrolls and wrote with ink brushes-”

“No, no, I changed my mind. Just get to the fucking point.”

“Fine,” the Fuhai Bao shook his head. “We are in a special domain, disconnected from the mortal world we were born in. I believe the entrance to this place is somewhere in Siberia, or maybe even Alaska. But it’s cold, I know that much.”

“I could have told you that,” Abe ground his teeth.

“There’s more to it though,” Fuhai Bao closed his eyes and raised a finger. “Once you enter, there is no return. The mortal world is lost to you. And it is all related to that house on the hill,” he nodded knowingly.

“The manor.”

The Chairman nodded, “The House of Baroness Evgenia Umbrial. Or Miss Nia, as you may know her.”

“That’s it? Just tell me if you don’t have anything useful to say.”

“Have you heard of the Deathscape?”

Abe raised a brow.

“Thought so. These domains are connected. Each belongs to a specific scape that defines its rules and inhabitants. Soon, you will also learn of the Dreamscape. It is a wondrous land, home to creatures like my friend, Maneki-Neko.”

“What happened to Siberia, and all that other stuff you were yapping about?”

“I said some people say we are in Siberia. Also, that damn cat isn’t one for a lot of words. I get lonely in here.”

“Let’s stay on topic, Fuhai Bao.

“Call me Bao. Right, back on topic. You might not think where we are is overly important, but you’re wrong.”

“How so?’ Abe droned, boredom creeping into his voice.

“It’s because of the wells,” Bao nodded, with a raised finger.

“I thought we were staying on topic,” Abe groaned.

“We are. The wells are everything. They are what makes this place valuable. They are the means of channeling the spiritual power. Spirit Wells. All of this, the world we live in, the power of the living dead, it is granted through these wells. It is the source of their power struggles. And the means to control our reality.”

“Why…” Abe trailed off, shaking his head. “I just came to find out more about the Man in White, and the hell he is turning your people into those things.”

“And I told you. How do you expect to understand the Man in White if you don’t understand the political reasons he wages his war here? You think those people sell their souls for nothing, but you are the misguided one. As mortals, they are slaves in this purgatory. Their new forms, as distasteful as they may appear, provide a chance at something more. A chance to live beyond the confines of this dimensional pocket of death. Hidden somewhere within that house on the hill you will find one such Spirit Well, it is of great wealth and serves as the heart of the Mistress's throne. If you want to learn more about this place, why you are here, and your purpose in this mess being woven, then I recommend you find it.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll look into it. Back to the Man in White, can’t you tell me anything a little more useful?”

Bao shrugged, “Not really. I can’t tell you how to defeat him or anything if that’s what you are after.”

“Okay, fine. Thanks, I guess. That stuff about the well will hopefully help me at some point,” Abe straightened. “One more thing, there was a group of so-called slayers that attacked the manor, a few of them had four arms and stupidly big heads. What are they supposed to be?”

“Ah, I believe you speak of the mordoks. Originally from the mortal plane, they now hail in the Dreamscape. Interesting people.”

“And the slayers?”

“Mercenaries. Unfortunately, there isn’t much more to say. Someone like Mistress Nia had far too many enemies for someone as lowly as me to presume who would hire mercenaries to harass her lands. However, what I will say is that I doubt she is unaware. There are entire armies within the Deathscape, or traveling within the Astral Vale and adjoining warps that bind it all together. If they are here, and Evgenia left knowing that, then I would hazard a guess that it is a test.”

“Yeah, that’s about the first part of all your nonsense that makes sense,” Abe sighed. “ And I don’t want to hear another word about warps or Astral whatever the fuck you just said. I can come back if I decide I want to know more.”

Fuhai Bao nodded with a thin smile.

Abe sat silently processing everything he had been told for a moment

“Wait, so are the villagers helping the Man in White or not? Aren’t you like the boss around here or something?”

The man chuckled, “A leader is best when people barely know he exists, or something like that. I can’t stop those willing to sell their souls to escape this place, doing so would only serve to fracture this town further. But hopefully, I can provide guidance.”

Abe coughed, “I don’t know if you even did that.”

“Oh, sorry, foolish me. Take caution with my words, for this is only what I believe, not what I know. What I believe is that the Man in White is nothing but a distraction. Someone else eyes Baroness Evgenia’s domain. Mordoks, slayers, and the Man in White are likely all connected in some way, even if they are not aware of it. Whoever pulls these strings is someone far above either you or I.”