Machia Veil Timeline

Later that night, August 11th – Club 7, Suffox Place, Londoom

It’s the drinks! I have to spit them out!

Nate stumbled through the hallways of the third floor of Club 7. He had a glassy stare, and his eyes were bloodshot. He headed towards the Court Room. A member entered and filled the room with a hushed silence.

Guests were startled by the abrupt clamour of Nate’s laughter.

Tipper led him to the Dance Room, but he shook her off. He ventured to the Regent Room, where pungent plumes of perfume filled the air. The grandiose and opulent room was a favourite spot for new members to congregate.

The Regent had new people Nate hadn’t met. One of them squeezed his arm and pinched him.

“Ouch!” said Nate. There was a syringe in the strangers’ hands. “What on earth?” he recoiled. His legs grew weak, and he slumped to the ground.

The guests stepped back. It was a blur; they formed a circle around him.

“Everything is okay!” called out Tipper. “A little too much to drink! Everything is okay.”

Nate’s arms dangled as they trudged him up to the attic. His body would not move.

“Oh, my dear! Through here!” said Clarice, greeting them at the entrance.

They lay him back on his bed.

“Let him sleep. He just needs to rest. I don’t know why we let him out,” said Clarice.

They closed the door behind them, and it all went dark.

***

Afternoon, August 15th - The Attic, Club 7, Suffox Place

Nate awoke. He was groggy and disoriented. He did a double take. There was a drip next to him. After an hour, he lay in bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling. When the floorboards creaked, he closed his eyes. When silence returned, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He needed out of his captivity. Later, his eyelids were heavy, and he slipped in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he overheard faint conversations. They spoke about him.

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***

Nate returned to the nightlife the next evening, the flashing lights and thumping music filling his senses. For the next two days, Nate pretended to enjoy dinner dates, lively dancing, and steamy sex. He sang Mystic Twilight again and again, a song he overheard in Machia Veil. Annoying the Archs, he spoke with an unsteady, blaring voice as if he were drunk.

“Welcome to the twilight,

Check in, but you’ll never find home.

In this hazy twilight, where secrets hide,” he trailed off. Then, bursting again. “They’re dancing away in the mystic twilight!” He sang at the top of his voice, swinging a Bellini cocktail in his hand.

(…) Never can say goodbye,

You can never leave.”

In the hush that followed, Ellis choked out a dry, hacking cough.

***

Evening, August 18th - Club 7, Suffox Place

The club was in full swing. Conversations filled the rooms. He made his way to the Court Room towards the entrance. But his friends distracted him, as expected. They led him to the Dance Room. He slipped out again and walked the long black lined hallway towards the wine cellar. A couple were kissing on the stairs and he made a one eighty. He crept up the stairs to the second floor, where he would hide from view. As he went up the winding stairwell, he took steps whilst scanning the shadows for his spies. He was sure he had a few. He crossed the long corridor, spotting the restaurant staff walking towards the kitchen. On his way, he found Tipper.

“So glad you’re better!” she said.

Ellis was behind her. “Drink?”

“Absolutely!” said Nate.

They brought him one of his favourites, a Bellini.

“Where’s Dagmar?” he asked.

“In the Mirror,” said Tipper.

“I’ll be back.” He took a swig of the Bellini. Then rushed to the Gents where he retched the drink back up.

He stood in the bathroom, holding his arms out in the cubicle. Then he drank water from the tap.

Over the next four days, Nate explored Club 7. He led the women away from the bustling rooms, pushing them into secluded areas where they had sex. He marked the corridors, hoping to find his exit to freedom. Every evening, he carried out the same routine. His erratic performance showed he was battling the addiction but steered clear of another induced coma.

***

Four days later - Club 7, Suffox Place

He made his way down to the Mirror restaurant one evening. A room between landings had a half-open door, casting a red glow onto the hallway. He was about to greet Dagmar, when she pulled a thin knife from a member’s neck.

Nate froze.

Then he sprinted through the club, searching for any door or hallway that would lead him out of Club 7.

Despite his efforts, the complex network of hallways in Club 7 were difficult to decipher. They ran in circles.

Castar and Clarice stopped him. Sweat poured down his neck.

“Nate, darling, we were just looking for you,” said Castar with a warm smile, his Spanish accent adding a touch of charm to his words.

Nate glanced at his host.

“He-llo Andres,” he slurred.

“My darling, this is your playground,” he always said that. “Where were you going?”

Nate was falling over when Ellis arrived.

“Hello dear Andres! Sweetheart!” she faced Nate, “we miss you! Where were you?”

Nate heightened his act of drunken stupor.

He mumbled the word “toilet” as he stumbled forward.