After being escorted by the guard, the group arrived at the cafeteria. The walls were white and clean, and there seemed to be a warmer atmosphere all around. The air smelled of fresh bread and the room sounded of lively chatter. Everything about it stood in stark contrast to the holding cells.

There were about 20 or so tables scattered around and about half of them were occupied. The people who weren’t seated at a table seemed to be waiting in some kind of line, which was wrapped around one of the walls on the left side of the room.

Even before all of that, the first thing that Vincent noticed was the many guards that were stationed all around the room—some of them were even in the lines. That being said, Vincent couldn’t figure out if that was for security reasons or because they were literally just in line.

Those thoughts didn’t last long, because the lasting hunger in his stomach superseded everything else. He looked around for any place where he could get food, anything would do. His eyes were immediately brought back to that long line he saw earlier, seeing as it led into another room where food was being brought out from. He jumped in line without a second thought.

He waited in that line for what seemed like hours, although in reality, it was only about 30 minutes. While the line made progress, it wasn’t fast enough for him. Eliot and Fang, who were behind him, seemed pretty content with the pace, at least on the outside.

“I’m starving!” Vincent exclaimed. “Lines are the worst thing to ever be invented.”

“Oh I don’t know about that one, Vince,” Eliot responded.

“Yeah, I can think of three things off the top of my head that are worse,” Fang added.

Vincent turned around, with a completely deadpan and serious expression, he replied, “That’s impossible. Lines are pure evil.”

Finally, after another 10 minutes or so of waiting, they finally made it to the front of the line. Vincent was the next up to begin ordering his food, followed by Eliot and then Fang. Just as Vincent stepped up, someone immediately jumped ahead of him from out of nowhere.

They were a female of a taller build. She was only a few inches shorter than Vincent and was just as muscular as him, if not more. Her tanned skin exaggerated her physique, making her much more intimidating. Almost as if she was always ready for a fight, her shorter, black hair was pulled back in a bun.

“Yo, no cutting. I was up next,” Vincent stated to her with a frown.

She didn't react, nor show any sign of even hearing him.

“Hey! Earth to asshole,” Vincent said, his voice more of his annoyance. “I was next.”

Still, she did not seem to acknowledge his bantering. Fed up with that nonsense, Vincent began to reach an arm out to grab her shoulder. “Didn’t you hear—”

But before he was able to make contact, a guard stepped in front of him, cutting him off from the woman. Despite the annoyance and anger, Vincent recognized that taking on a guard might not be the best idea. He resigned himself to his situation and waited behind that woman.

After getting their meals, paying a total of a copper coin for everything, the group of friends sat down at an empty table. They each began to eat their meals at varying paces. Fang was slow and deliberate, Eliot was happily enjoying his meal, and Vincent was quickly and angrily devouring his food.

“What a load,” Vincent said, inhaling the last of his sandwich. “Who does that lady think she is?”

Taking a drink of his water, Eliot responded, “Well, she seemed pretty important to me. There was something about her attitude and the air around her.”

“And,” Fang added, “not to mention, she seemed to have bribed a guard to let her do it. She probably has a lot of money if she can do that.”

“Then she’s probably a long-time fighter here.”

Vincent took the biggest spoonful of mashed potatoes possible and just consumed it, almost choking himself. “I don’t care who she is, it still pisses me off.”

“Well, Vince—,” Fang started, “it’s ok to call you Vince, right?”

“Whatever you want,” Vincent replied, wiping his face.

“Ok,” Fang continued. “Anyways, you know how the system goes. Money can buy you anything, even a spot in line.”

“Fuck the system,” Vincent said, standing up and slamming his fist on the table. The sound reverberated through the cafeteria, causing most of the other conversations to hush. In the silence, Vincent looked around and finally realized that the quiet of the room was his fault.

He sat back down and just let his anger stew in his head for a little bit.

As he did, the noise of the room slowly started to come back. It seemed like every time something happened in the casino, whether good or bad, everyone notices for a little bit, but then goes on with whatever they were doing.

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Eliot finished up his meal, took a drink, and looked up at Vincent. “Vince, there’s no need to get so worked up over this,” he calmly stated. “It’s just one spot in line. It’s ok.

Now a little calmer, Vincent replied “Well, it’s not just that, it’s, uh, like…” His thoughts trailed off, and he was trying to search for the right words. Speaking was not generally his strong suit. “It’s like the whole point of it just annoys me,” he finally said. “I don’t really care that she jumped in line—although that was annoying—it’s just the fact that she could do that is what pissed me off.”

“Yeah, I guess I get that.”

At that time, Fang looked over to their left and said, “Hello.”

Looking in the direction to where Fang was facing, Vincent saw someone that he had never seen before. The person was a fairly tan man with a nervous smile on their gaunt face. The man was a bit shorter and obviously a little skinnier than he probably usually was.

“Umm…” the man started to say.

“Yes?” Vincent asked, confused as to why this guy was randomly at their table.

The man looked to the ground and said, “Um, I just thought that, um, you should know who that lady was.”

“Lady?” Vincent asked. “Oh, the line-cutting one.”

“Yeah…” the man said, awkwardly rubbing his hands together.

“By the way,” Eliot intervened, “what’s your name?”

The man finally looked up and replied “Oh, um, Hassan.”

“Well, Hassan, what did you want to tell us?”

“Um, I wanted to tell you that the lady that cut in front of you was Marezi, the Lion.”

“Marezi?”

“The Lion?” Vincent added.

“Yeah, she’s the strongest fighter here. It’s said that her strength is not human, and her tenacity is that of a lion,” Hassan explained. “She is the queen of the Collider and easily the richest one here.”

Vincent shot Hassan a surprising glance and asked, “The richest? If she’s got so much money, why is she still fighting?” He then looked around and found Marezi, who was sitting at one of the corner tables, by herself. “And why does she still eat in this dingy place?”

“That’s a good point, Vince,” Eliot added.

“Well, um, I don’t know how to answer that. That’s a lot of questions,” Hassan answered.

“Just take it one question at a time at a time. And don’t forget to breathe,” Eliot said, reassuringly.

With a deep breath, Hassan said, “The reason why she still fights is because she’s sponsored.”

“Sponsored?” Vincent asked.

“Um, since you all are new, I’m not surprised you don’t know about sponsors. They, um, are people who buy your freedom when you’re still in the cells.”

As he said that, Vincent remembered that Lucretia said something about one of the ways to get free was through people buying you out from her.

“At that time, she was a promising fighter and had a high price tag on her head to be freed. Hanzo, a Diadem, saw her potential and immediately bought her off of Lucretia—or in Lucretia’s words, sponsored Marezi.”

“That’s just horrible,” Eliot responded. “And what’s a Diadem?”

“Oh, uh, sorry, Diadems are the richest people in the casino. They are the people who live in the Upper Echelons and own a monopoly in something here.”

Still confused, Vincent asked, “But what does that have to do with her still fighting?”

“Oh, um,” Hassan stuttered, “just because you have a sponsor, doesn't mean you can stop fighting.”

“What do you mean?”

“They own you now, and the only way to not be owned anymore is to buy your way out. Just because Lucretia pays you when you fight under her, doesn’t mean that the sponsor will.”

Fang then suddenly butted into the conversation. “Then why get a sponsor?” they asked.

“Um, because it ensures a nice life. Instead of living in a crappy cell, getting crappy food, and having nothing to entertain yourself with, sponsors tend to treat their fighters extremely well.”

“If they keep winning,” Fang added.

“Yeah…” Hassan dejectedly said. “And you asked why she eats here. Honestly, I don’t really know. She keeps to herself, so it’s hard to know what she’s thinking. Maybe it’s to intimidate us.”

“Or maybe it’s to give you hope,” Eliot proposed.

Vincent, through that entire conversation, had been wracking his brain about something. He just didn’t understand why all this fighting happens. And hope? How is showing people that being a slave is the way to go hopeful? None of it made any sense.

Finally, after trying his hardest to think it through, he gave up and eventually asked Hassan outright. “Why doesn’t everyone here just fight back?”

Seemingly stunned by the question, Hassan just stared at him. Even Eliot and Fang just looked at Vincent as if he said something either revolutionary or extremely offensive. Even though the rest of the room was full of other conversations, the air around their table was oddly quiet.

Vincent then continued his line of questioning. “I know Lurcreita’s strong and stuff, but this place is crawling with powerful Resonators. If you all banded together, there’s no way in hell she can stop you. Seems pretty simple to me.”

Eliot kept silent and looked around the room in confusion. Fang stared at Vincent with interest, as if what Vincent said intrigued them. Hassan was the first to answer Vincent.

“Trust me, um, it’s not that simple,” he somberly stated.

“Why not?”

Hassan looked around and replied “Before Resonators were a thing, there was one attempt to overthrow Lucretia, and, um, let’s just say that it didn’t end well. Um, and it’s hard to get people to gather around a shot in the dark. Especially,” he said, turning his gaze towards Marezi “when the top person, the one we all idolize, has a sponsor.”

Vincent then stood up and out of his chair. “Is that all it takes?” he said with confidence.

With that, he strutted over to where Marezi was and stood on the other side of her table. He pointed at her and said, “We’re gonna fight.”