The Industrialist

As they started walking, their footfalls were silenced by the thick carpet that mantled the restaurant’s flooring. However, everyone in the restaurant stared at them as if they were meek prey among a flock of predators.

Their clothes might have given their ranks away. To Lance, they looked like mid-classers. But probably the higher echelons in the dining partition knew something they didn’t know.

Or maybe the way Lance walked, groggy, and stupid. His feet seemed to have a mind of their own, unsynchronized and misdirected. Due to this, he had several bumps against Damian.

Lucky for the kid, Damian walked firmly without any hint of disarray. Lance’s mind challenged every detail that his eyes registered.

"A drink perhaps," The bartender offered a shot glass, half full, on his counter, of white translucent liquid. "I suggest you drink this."

"What is this for?" Damian asked on Lance’s behalf.

"I can see that this environment greatly affects the kid. This is what we pour in our dishes, like that on their table." The bartender explained. "This will ease your friend’s senses."

The bartender referred to the upper echelon class citizens who enjoyed a moving octopus-like dish. It was the same liquid the waitress poured.

"There is no poison here if that’s what you are thinking. The atmosphere in this restaurant is filled with pink cloud, as all our customers wanted to taste a heavenly feel. But mind you, the pink cloud can overdose to those frail-minded citizens, like maybe your friend right there."

Lance stood firmly behind Damian as they stopped at the center of the Bartender’s counter. But Lance felt that he was floating, the straight edges of the walls, and the tables seemed to wave and everything was vibrating.

He looked back at the Upper echelon’s table as the Bartender mentioned the white translucent vinegar. They ate the octopus-like dish as they severed the limbs with a kitchen knife.

Then his focus shifted to Damian and the Bartender again. They looked normal, the two of them up close, but their bodies seemed to vibrate like they had moving rotors inside them. His sanity was challenged but he was mentally strong. He knew what was real or not, although his body was almost way beyond his control.

’Don’t move. Steady yourself.’ Lance struggled to concentrate on the thought, regaining full control of his seeming involuntary movements.

"A problem boy!" The bodyguard clasped his large hand upon Lance’s shirt. His body elevated from the ground like he was starting to fly.

’Am I flying?’ He thought disregarding the fearsome-looking bodyguard that lifted him.

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Lance heard somebody calling from afar, it sounded like Damian. But he disregarded it though. His flight was way more exciting. The vibrating face in front of him was confusing. The face was smiling, so it raised no problem.

’Everything is fine. I am happy where I am now.’ Lance succumbed to his thought.

He heard again a voice calling his name, blurry, like it came from underwater. The voice was getting closer.

’An abominant?’ He thought. It sounded like an Abominant. It knew his name and he understood the language even though the words were fuzzy. Not only the words were fuzzy, but everything else had a chaotic yet harmonious kind of way.

Vibrating intensely.

Lance started to swim. He felt his feet were floating from the ground; thus, swimming was the best option. He could leverage his movement in the air as he swam. He must get away from the pursuing Abominant.

He had no fear in him, only the thought of an Abominant who was going to munch him in pieces might be a bad idea.

Suddenly, he can’t move his arms. A chain, dressed in silky pastel-colored clothing, wrapped around his body down to his ankles. The chain vibrated then it moved like a snake, its head with its bulging eyes, was menacingly looking at him.

’Snakes? An Abominant Snake was pursuing me?’ Lance thought. He was not afraid. He was not surprised. Everything seemed to have one emotion registered in his brain, only excitement.

Then, he closed his eyes. The excitement was gone and replaced by a severe headache and utter pain in his pelvis.

He groaned with his eyes closed. Waves of pain, without respite, experienced his skull as if it was going to implode. He hauled himself up consuming every wisp of energy left in his limbs, his thumbs pressing hard against his temples.

"Apologies, my friends. The kid experienced Cloud 9." It was the Bartender’s voice explaining to the bodyguard’s table.

Lance was surprised as he opened his eyes. His feet might have taken him to their table. The three bodyguards were hauled from their seats and one was agitated almost to a fight. But the Bartender was in between Damian and the aggressive Bodyguard.

Then Lance assessed himself, training his hands to the emerging discommforts, the searing pain that loomed on his pelvis and his aching head. Suddenly, he recognized a sharp revolting taste that experienced his tongue and ran down to his throat.

He started to gag, thinking that he could expel a poison he just ingested. He used his finger to tickle his throat to trigger a vomit.

"No, don’t do it, kid!" Damian pulled his hand out from his mouth.

"What is this?" Lance asked. But his question was meant for everything that he did not understand.

"You drank the antidote," Damian responded.

"What happened?" Lance asked and attended to his headache once again.

"First time of the pink cloud, kid. That is the side effect. Drinking the antidote will give you headaches. I thought you were going to fight them on your own," Damian explained, he had his annoying chuckle every time he mocked the kid.

Fortunately, the bodyguards understood and they were back in their seats and disregarded the fuss. The Bartender turned to them afterward.

"Are you all right, kid?" He asked. His politeness never ceased. Despite his calm and polite demeanor, the bodyguards seemed to have utter respect with him as he easily disengaged ensuing trouble against them and Damian.

"Why am I here?" Lance asked.

"I thought you remember," Damian said. "You walked away from me, I have been calling your name. You seemed determined to face the bodyguards on your own and you challenged them to fight me, you moron!" Damian said.

"I grabbed you from behind as the guard lifted you then I pulled you from his grip and you pushed yourself like you don’t know me. You struggled and you fell to your butt," Damian released a slight chuckle.

"You are lucky," Damian continued. "The Bartender here has an antidote."

It explained the sharp taste he experienced, burning his throat even after the side effects subsided.

"I call it the Anticloud," The bartender proudly said. "It’s just vinegar and 5 other ingredients. Don’t worry the headache will go away after a few minutes. It’s just your system is fighting against the Pink Cloud."

"I don’t wanna know about the 5 ingredients. What is that pink cloud anyway?"

"You also don’t wanna know that kid," The Bartender responded and ushered them towards the door. "This door will take you to the kitchen. Remember kid, what you see in there is not an illusion anymore. Everything you see should only be within these walls."

His senses recovered, attuned to the almost shameful deed he had a while ago.

"What about Jonaz, what is he like?" Lance asked.

"He is black and white, kid. It’s either you are in or not," The Bartender responded. "Maybe, he will like you or not. It’s up to you."