The grand golden hall dazzled, code-identifying particles from management terminals racing beneath gold-leafed tiles. A half-naked bunny girl, tray in hand, was groped and pinned to the floor, her white breasts kneaded. Unresisting, she surrendered to the act, sliding two pills—synthetic narcotics—into the panting man’s mouth with her saliva-slicked tongue.
A near-rape impulse of raw lust. Flesh met flesh, mucus entwined. Skin glistened with sweat, unrestrained moans filling the air—not just from the bunny girl and her partner. A chaotic orgy of diverse people, driven mad by the hall’s lascivious haze, their reason melted, succumbed to beastly instinct, slithering like eels in a bucket.
Beneath the opulent gold, a madness of lust unfolded. The ceiling fresco’s emperor gazed down at the writhing damned, a soft smile mocking a fallen Satan. The prostitutes and gigolos of Hydro de Benzene lacked will, and visitors remained oblivious to their imprisonment in a cage of sin. As the Crucible’s name suggested, people burned in the heat of desire, their last scraps of ethics fueling the flames.
Stepping through the mirrored reflections of a disco ball, Danan spat at the debauchery before him. Disgusting, repulsive—he shoved aside a bunny girl stroking his mechanical arm’s steel, brushing her off.
“So, the bar’s upstairs… Where’s the elevator?” Gloria asked.
“How should I know?” Danan snapped.
“You’ve never been here, Danan?”
“No need, no point.”
Fingering his chin, wiping sweat with a silk handkerchief, Gloria stared at the ceiling fresco, muttering, “Asking someone’s the best bet, yeah.”
“Hey,” Gloria called to a bunny girl.
“Hi, sweetie? Or sir? Got something for me? Wanna join? I’ll do you free—options extra, though,” she purred.
“I need to get upstairs. Where’s the elevator, lovely lady?” Gloria asked, lightly lifting her chin.
Biological instinct or charmed by the androgynous beauty, her eyes, hardened by selling her body, softened instantly. A hot breath escaped her lips, her flushed cheeks hinting at a long-lost first love.
“The elevator’s VIP-only…” she said.
“That so? Mind telling me where it is?”
“Along the wall… But the organization’s suits—”
“Thanks, darling.” Gloria kissed her cheek lightly.
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Danan clicked his tongue, eyeing the elevator blending into the golden wall, observing the guards. Two men in black suits, bulletproof armor, and heavy machine guns, their limbs replaced with prosthetics, stood at each of the ten elevators. Positioned diagonally, they monitored the hall with cybernetic search-scanner eyes, crimson combat lamps glowing, ready to act instantly.
Their gear was built for annihilation, not suppression. Machine guns had quick-swap ammo packs, steel fingers locked on triggers, unmoving. Fully controlled by the facility’s signals, these mechanized soldiers wore gas masks over nose and mouth.
“Come on, let’s have some fun… Quick…” a bunny girl cooed.
“Sorry, I’ve got business. Hate to say it, but… I’m ED,” Gloria replied.
ED—erectile dysfunction. Her face shifted, and she slapped Gloria’s cheek. The crisp sound hit Danan’s ears. Spat at, Gloria smiled as she stormed off, shouting, “Get lost!”
“You okay?” Danan asked.
“Worried about me? Thought you didn’t care,” Gloria teased.
“Not worried. Just… the sound was louder than expected.”
“No big deal. Oh, the ED thing was a joke. Easier to say here, right, Danan?”
“Just move,” Danan growled.
Laughing lightly, a red handprint on his pale cheek, Gloria wiped sweat again. His perspiration proved his drug-breaking nanomachines were working, purging ingested drugs and airborne narcotics. Politely declining drinks from bunny girls, enduring thirst, Gloria stood with Danan before the elevator, presenting his card to the suits.
“…Elevator’s out of service. Use the stairs,” a suit said.
“Out? The startup light’s on, though,” Gloria pressed.
“Use the stairs.”
A gaze laced with killing intent pierced Gloria. The suits’ guns turned on them, cold death in their sights.
“We should take the stairs,” Danan said.
“You too, Danan?” Gloria asked.
“I could take them alone. Don’t forget our deal. If you die, I’m screwed.”
“…Fine, I’ll follow my friend’s advice. Can’t argue when you say that.”
Resigned, shrugging, Gloria stepped toward the stairs. Danan offered a drink he’d taken from a bunny girl.
“Drink,” he said.
“…”
“It’s fine. No poison.”
“You’re okay, but I—”
“I tested it. Drink.”
“…Then, thanks.”
Gulping the container empty, Gloria grimaced. “Sorry, drank it all,” he said with a wry smile.
“No problem,” Danan replied.
“But—”
“Worry about yourself. Don’t lean on others, rich boy.”
“Danan.”
“What?”
“Isn’t it time you called me by name? ‘You’ or ‘rich boy’ is so distant.”
“No need. We’re strangers, no trust, no faith.”
“You’re something else…”
Whether Gloria trusted Danan was unclear. Trust or not, Danan certainly didn’t trust him. Offering the drink was purely to ensure his escape, devoid of care for another. A relationship of mutual use, aiming for their goals—selfish, rational, efficient. Not friends, just an extension of strangers. Gloria’s “friend” talk meant nothing if Danan didn’t accept it. Self-serving egoism.
Climbing the stairs to the next floor, Danan and Gloria peered into the dim darkness, wrinkling their noses at the rusty iron stench—blood. Each breath stung the throat with its metallic tang. A drip echoed into a puddle in the silence, then a mechanical roar erupted. The wet grind of flesh and crunch of bone followed.
“…”
Swallowing hard, Danan’s goggles’ night vision revealed a blood-soaked hell. Torture devices and execution tools littered the scene, naked men and women kicked severed heads, and a disemboweled fetus lay dead. A masked giant, brandishing a chainsaw, hacked off the bound limbs of pleading fanatics in a grotesque revelry. Blood splattered Danan’s cheek, and a chunk of flesh stuck to Gloria’s white suit, an invitation to a sabbath of horrors.
