My panic place .. ...
I stand there, trying to breathe deeply. I suppose to an observer it might seem I have simply lost myself in thought. How could I tell anyone I feel most at home and most frightened in my own mind? These people with whom I associate could never be allowed to know of such a weakness. Social vampires, all of them. Meaningless meat bags. Yet I still occasionally get this sense of fear. I wonder from where it derives?
The door opens, and I straighten myself, putting on a much different face.
"There you are."
It's Phoenicia, dressed exquisitely in varying shades of vinyl that go from glossy black to translucent violet. I cut my eyes over to her. I have never been much for the overly layered, feminine look. I prefer more uniform outfits that cling tightly to my body. Perhaps there is something nihilistic in such an expression, but I know I am partly fooling myself with such thoughts. Okay to fool them, but I really shouldn't fool myself.
"Is it about time for you to join us?" she asks.
I like the way she coats her summons in a question, like a reaching hand suddenly cut to a warm stump. I wear no watch, and there is no timepiece in this room, but I look at her squarely, letting a bit of a pause stretch out.
"Yes," I say.
She turns and departs the spartan, sparsely lit room. I pop a small pill from a tiny container I manage to hide on myself despite any apparent lack of such places, and I head out into the main aerie of the nightclub.
It is quite an event - full of flash and flesh. One of many I have orchestrated, all seeming to fall together in a domino-like line of similar simulations, all becoming just another fancy mote in a hungry, empty line of black. I almost keep walking, ignoring the eager, predatory faces and exit the building, just walking and walking until I come to the end. But what is the end?
Instead, I let that particular self-important grin take my painted lips, and I play the hostess. I manage to carry on conversations despite the driving, powerful music. I manage to remember people's names, though I do not always give them the pleasure of using them. I accept iridescent blue drinks bought for me, and I try to lose myself in the stimulation overdrive, trying to feel something amidst all this impotent effort.
"Seems a waste, doesn't it?"
I look over to see a very smartly dressed young man addressing me. I do not know him. I do not even recognize his face.
"Oh, I suppose," I offer him, then I suck gingerly on the narrow cocktail straw in my drink, "But what else is there?" I asks after he chooses to add nothing further.
"What else is there?" he muses, nodding "That's the money question, isn't it?"
"Shall we discuss philosophy, then?" I ask him.
"If you like, but it still won't get to the heart of the matter."
"Oh?"
And it is like a game, like some sort of modern day swordplay. Though I am not sure at what he is driving. He doesn't come off as though he is hitting on me, and he doesn't come off as though he is trying to impress me. And as I mentioned, I don't even recognize him.
"Are you new here?" I ask after a pause in which he does not answer my last question.
He grins, and I am simultaneously drawn to him for it and a bit fearful.
"I suppose my face is not familiar to you, but I have been watching for some time, and this ‘scene' of yours is not new to me at all."
"Okay," I veritably purr, though I allow a tinge of pretension to coat it, "That is quite interesting. Are you some kind of ‘lurker in the shadows'?"
"What do you think?" he asks, holding out his arms a bit, and I get the point - one does not look and dress like he does and remain hidden.
"Alright," I let out a short chuckle, "I'll bite, then. How have you been ‘watching'?"
"Another money question."
I roll my eyes.
"I'm not the only one watching, though," he says, getting suddenly serious and moving in closer to me, "But once you have the first answers to the money questions, just remember to seek the Grail."
"What?"
My face loses its composure, confusion etching out over the generally smooth, porcelain canvas. He walks away, leaving me in this wake. I do not like being put off-balance, and he has done an eloquent job of it. I watch him leaving, and he does not look back. I wonder if I should follow him, despite the obvious show of weakness it would bring.
"Verrity?"
I look over and see another young man - a thin, darkly garbed fellow with white-bleached hair. I am very familiar with him.
"What is it, Nyka?" I ask, because it seems obvious to me that something is bothering him, and being that he is part of my promotions team, I suppose it should concern me.
"We have some strange visitors."
He points, and I see two men in finely-tailored black suits entering the large venue. They peer about, looking for something or someone, and they seem well capable of spying whatever they like even from behind the dark sunglasses. I glimpse an ear piece in one's ear.
"*poop*," I say, "Who are they?"
"I don't know," he exclaims, seeming even more tense, "They look like F.B.I., but geesh, why would they be here?"
I watch them for a bit, having a slight advantage in that I am peering down from the second floor, and that I know this place so well.
"Are you going to go talk to them?" Nyka asks, impatience laden in his high-pitched voice.
I cannot reply, though, because I feel a familiar buzzing near my left hip. Just as with my pharmaceuticals container, I manage to keep a sleek cell phone on me without seeming to have a place to put it. I seem to have a call.
"Yes?" I ask, and it only then occurs to me that I didn't even check from whom the call was coming.
"We don't have long, and this is not a secure line," comes a voice, "We have briefly spoken before, but not like this. Do not go down and speak to the Agents."
"What? Who is this?"
"Avatar."
I feel a coldness creep over my flesh. I have indeed exchanged communication with the curious entity that chose to go by such a cliché moniker. But the things he has alluded to are far from expected.
"Verrity, are you still there?"
"Yes."
"Our timeline has been unfortunately rushed," he continues, "I will be there soon. Can you meet me outside the private back entrance?"
"It's locked," I say, and I know this because I always have to get the manager to unlock it to let me get my things and people in before he locks it again.
"It won't be. Just go," he says, and then he hangs up.
I re-focus to see Nyka staring at me with wide eyes. I return the look for a spare moment. He opens his mouth, but before he can ask the obvious question, I turn and leave.
