“Wait, what are you talking about!?” Vincent began to ask. But before he could even get a response, the elevator door began to open.
As the door began to creak open, Livia, still seemingly out of character, grabbed Vincent’s shoulder, and with more force than he was expecting, she bawled her hand in a fist.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
Before he could even react, the elevator door completely opened up and her more cold and serious persona came back, taking up the entirety of her face and body. She then gestured for the group to follow her into what lay beyond.
Vincent could immediately tell that everything about where they were seemed different. Physically, the interior of the room was not as large as any of the previous rooms that they had been in before, although it was still a large room—spanning at least 300 feet or so from side to side. The walls were made of a dreadfully dull, gray stone, and the ceiling wasn’t any fancier. The lighting was a bit dim, making the entirety of the room seem more like a dungeon or a cave of some sort.
Scattered throughout the room were a few slot machines that looked like they were made years ago and weren’t maintained all too well. They all looked like they were partially made of weathered wood and taped together in places where it either cracked from age or from some drunkard that hit it a little too hard.
In addition to the half-working slot machines, there seemed to be quite a number of card tables, whose felt seemed even more worn and torn than the slot machines’ wood. Sitting at each table were a few people of varying backgrounds. The one thing that most of them had in common, which seemed to visibly disturb Eliot and Zander, was that they all seemed worse for wear. Most patrons in the room seemed to wear more ragged clothes, although some were even missing a few articles here and there. Many of the people around also seemed to either be drinking out of a crusty-looking bottle or smoking something that didn’t quite seem like a cigarette. Some people could even be seen slumped against a wall, unmoving.
“Ahem,” Livia spoke up. “Welcome to the bottom of the Pillars: the Stone Pillar—generally nicknamed the Tomb Stone Pillar.”
“You can say that again,” Vincent replied.
“To your left, there is the reception area.”
Looking in the direction that Livia pointed to, Vincent saw a stone counter, surrounded by iron bars. Behind the bars were receptionists that wore similar attire to Livia, but they didn’t seem as energetic as her. When Vincent and his group entered the room, the receptionists barely looked at them before going back to the nothing that they seemed to be doing before.
“They will take care of any questions that you have after today.”
“What do you mean after today?” Eliot asked, surprising both Vincent and Zander.
“Ah, I’m sorry for forgetting to mention that, I haven’t been working here that long and this is my first time with Pillar Patrons. Each patron that attends the Setting Sun gets an escort for the first day in order to give them a general sense of what is expected of them, as well as to answer any questions they may have.”
Livia then seemed to visibly be distracted, seeing as she didn’t make eye contact when she continued her thought. “And after that, I have to go back to…” she took a deep breath, “...work.” As she said that, she rubbed her left arm, which was covered up by her sleeve.
“Ah I see,” Vincent replied, even though he wasn’t the one who asked. “I got a random question for ya. Why is the next Pillar called the Silver Pillar? What happened to Bronze?”
“Well, you see, the Lady of the House absolutely hates bronze. She thinks that its color is dirty and if she was going to use a dirty material, she would much rather use stone. Much more durable and easier on the eyes, or so she claims.”
“You sure know a lot of personal things about the owner for someone who hasn’t been working here that long,” Zander interjected.
“W-well I-I just hear things every now and then.”
“Oh I’m sure,” Zander sarcastically replied. “What else have you heard?”
“T-that’s not something I—” But before she could finish her reply, her entire body seemed to lock up and freeze. Her expression was one of obvious tension and fear, although she looked like she tried her best to hide it. Her eyes also seemed fixated on something beyond and behind Zander, further into the room.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“What are you—” Zander began to ask before he was interrupted by a loud crashing sound behind him and a person yelling at the top of their lungs.
Vincent immediately looked in that direction and saw what caused the sounds. On the direct other side of the room was a rugged man, probably one of the worst looking people there, charging past a broken chair in the direction of another figure.
In direct contrast to the man, the figure he was charging and yelling at was an extravagant lady like no other, surrounded by two towering bodyguards. That woman was of obvious Egyptian descent and was dressed from head to toe in expensive attire. She wore cream-white pants and a matching suit. To accent the cream suit and pants, she also wore a white undershirt with a deep navy blue tie. Around her wrist, she clearly adorned a shimmering and expensive watch, and each of her fingers seemed to have at least one ring on it. She also heavily wore navy blue eyeliner and eyeshadow that extended far past her eyes, matching her tie. There also seemed to be something else in the eyeshadow that caused it to sparkle in the light, just like her long black hair. Although looking a bit closer, Vincent could swear that in the right light, her hair almost had the same navy blue color as her tie and eyeshadow.
The Egyptian woman’s physique and demeanor were also something else to be marveled at. Although she was surrounded by two towering guards, she still was clearly the most intimidating presence in the room, even causing Vincent to shake with fear a bit.
As the desperate man charged towards her shouting, “You took everything from me!” he pulled out a knife of sorts. Before he could get anywhere close enough to stab her, the woman pulled out a pistol from her suit pocket, and without hesitation, pulled the trigger.
A loud bang rang throughout the room, reverberating and echoing off the stone walls. The desperate man quickly slumped to the ground, dead. Strangely though, no one besides Vincent and his friends seemed to even pay any attention to what was going on. Vincent could see that the receptionists behind the iron bars glanced over in the direction of the commotion, but quickly went back to not paying attention. The rest of the patrons didn’t even look over in the direction of what just happened, although some of them seemed to be shaking vigorously in fear.
As he looked towards his friends, he could see that Zander’s face was locked in the same fearful expression as Livia’s. Eliot, on the other hand, was balled up and crouched on the ground holding his hands to his head, clearly in distress.
Angered by the lack of response and acknowledgment from anyone around, Vincent could feel his blood boil even more. He began to walk in the direction of the woman, allowing his body to grow cold and empty, inadvertently suppressing some of his anger.
“Oh look, another angry little insect,” the woman said, looking directly at Vincent. “You all know the rules, and truthfully, I’d much rather use you in the Collider than kill you.”
Wordlessly, Vincent grew colder and colder as he approached her. Just before he took off in a dead sprint, he heard a voice call out to him from behind.
“Vincent, stop!” the voice screamed out. It was Eliot.
Vincent stopped before making any further advances on the murderer in front of him.
“So, you’re the newcomer, Vincent Huron, hmm?” the woman asked with a smile crawling across her face.
“Who the fuck is asking? You got ten seconds to answer before I beat the hell out of you, ya murderin’ bitch.”
Vincent’s anger, even through the activation of his powers, was at an all-time high—it was a miracle in and of itself that Eliot’s voice got him to stop.
The woman then let out an authoritative and confident laugh. “I’m so glad to see that you’re going to be even more fun than I thought.” Her expression then shifted to a more serious, but cocky one. “You may think you can kill me with your powers, but guess what I have? A gun.”
“I’d like to see that—”
“And,” the woman added, reaching her hand out, palm up, “I have your friend.”
Just then, Vincent heard the sound of a pained cough and something slamming on the floor. That same voice began to cry out in pain, and the voice was familiar.
Turning around, Vincent saw Zander Nenmos, kneeling on the ground, writhing in pain. He was clutching at his abdomen and blood could be seen dripping from his mouth onto the ground around him. That sight finally broke through and cooled the anger that was flaring within Vincent. He saw one of his very best friends in genuine danger, and he didn’t know how to respond.
By the time the now partially broken Vincent turned back to face the woman, she was already next to the double doors on the other side of the room. She was still facing Vincent, but her guards were already opening the doors for her.
“Take good care of our new guests, Livia, my dear,” the woman somewhat shouted. “And Vincent, normally I would consider your aggression a violation of our rules, but let’s just say that this one is...on the house,” she said, laughing as the doors closed behind her.
Still staring in her direction, unsure of what emotion or emotions he was even feeling anymore, Vincent could hear some rustling behind him.
“Zander, are you alright? Oh my gosh, what’s going on?” he heard Eliot ask in a panic.
“I’m,” cough, “fine now,” Zander replied.
Defeated, Vincent turned around to see Zander being helped up by Eliot. There was still some blood on his shirt, but it didn’t seem there was anymore coming out of his mouth.
“Damnit, I really felt like I was going to die—I’ve never been in that much pain anymore,” Zander stated, visibly shaken. “Who even was that?”
The once-frozen Livia began to shake herself free of the stasis that she was locked in, her fear probably subsiding a bit. Still shaking, she answered, “That was the owner and the Lady of the House.” She then rubbed her left arm. “That was Lucretia.”