It was the evening of the fourth day, and Vincent was sitting at a bar, drinking a soda. He had just finished playing Rolldago for over 5 hours. Granted, that’s not even close to how long he played the day before.

He wasn’t sure why he stopped playing, he just knew that it wasn’t holding his interest anymore. While he was building an even bigger fan base around him that watched every game of his, he didn’t really care. He knew that they appreciated how he ‘stuck it to’ the richest people of the casino, but playing that game was never about that. Besides, the only people cheering him on were those who were also rich. They didn’t want equality, they wanted their rivals to fall.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel empty and bored. With nothing else to do, he figured that taking a seat at a sports bar and watching something on a TV was better than nothing. After all, if he’s going to be stuck in Setting Sun for a few more days, he might as well enjoy them.

At least, that’s what he told himself. In truth, that chilling, real sensation he felt the previous night was ever-present in the back of his head. He couldn’t remember anything about why he felt so uneasy, but something about the way he woke up bothered him.

After an hour of drinking colas and watching the various sports broadcasts that were displayed on dozens of TVs, Vincent heard a commotion. He heard a bald, plump man with a handlebar mustache, who was wearing an emerald-green suit, shout at another guy for running into him. That other guy was someone very familiar to Vincent. It was Zander.

After stumbling around haphazardly for a few seconds, Zander sat down in the chair on the other side of Vincent’s table.

“Yo, Zander, you good?” Vincent asked out of concern. “You seem a bit off.”

“What?” Zander replied, finally looking at Vincent. His eyes were sunken, confused, and constantly looking at nothing. “Sorry, I didn’t even realize that you were there.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” Vincent laughed. “You’re the one who sat at my table.”

“Oh really?” Zander downfully asked, not really looking around him to confirm if that was true, which was something that Vincent expected him to do.

“What’s got you in such a mood, dude?”

Zander sighed and replied, “I think Eliot hates me.”

Vincent couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle. “Hate you? What are ya talkin’ about? Eliot ain’t the type of person to hate someone else.”

Now looking at the ground, Zander responded, “It seems there’s more to people than I thought, especially with us friends.”

Vincent raised an eyebrow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but how about I get you a glass of cranberry juice? I know you’ll never turn down one of them.” He then raised his hand in the air to call over a waiter.

Just then, all of the TVs around buzzed with static. Whatever program that was on was changed to the same fizzled mess. After a few seconds, each TV’s screen displayed the same image: a hauntingly stationary L.

All the idle chatter and talking came to an abrupt end. The silence of even the richest of the richest patrons carried a weight that was too palpable. There was a certain reverence or fear that Lucretia’s symbol bore that couldn’t be taken away.

After a few moments of hanging in that oppressive silence, each screen changed to a new scene. The scene took place in the Collider, with the Lady of the House herself taking the front stage. Behind her, restrained by chains, bruised and bloodied, was another woman.

“What’s going on?” Zander asked.

“Is that…” Vincent gasped, his mind frozen with a familiar sense of dread.

As he looked at the image of the tortured woman, he instinctively grabbed his wrists and rubbed them. He felt unease, dread, pain, and loneliness wash over him. Those emotions did not spring out of nowhere, rather, they re-emerged from within his subconscious.

“Why is Livia on the screen? Why is she with Lucretia?” Zander panickedly asked.

“Why is she so damaged?” Vincent countered.

Lucretia began to speak.

“Attention my fruitful patrons of the Setting Sun, it seems that I need to teach you all a quick lesson about the inner-workings of this place,” she calmly stated. Glancing back at Livia, she said, “It seems some of us have forgotten.”

The camera then panned around and showed that the arena stands were full of people that weren’t the usual onlookers. The people that occupied those seats were elegantly dressed and had an air of importance about them.

“Now, we all know how important trust in the rules of this fine establishment is, right?” Lucretia continued. “Challenging these rules and trying to bypass the process and hard work it requires to thrive is nothing less than cheating. And you know how much that upsets me.”

Lucretia then revealed a whip that she had at her side. She let it crack and the sound, even though it was through a TV, sliced through the air.

As she did that, Livia jolted a bit and began to sob. “Help…” she pleaded. “Anyone…”

Vincent jumped to his feet, nearly knocking over his seat. Zander joined him, but looked confused.

“What are you doing, Vince?” Zander sternly asked.

“We gotta save her,” Vincent replied, his eyes showcasing his worry and seriousness.

Lucretia then turned around and faced Livia, condescendingly saying, “I don’t remember telling you that you could talk.” She then walked over and punched Livia in the head, causing blood to trickle down her neck.

Livia screamed out in pain. “Help me!”

Vincent began to take off in a dead sprint towards the elevator. He didn’t even make it 10 feet before his arm was yanked back. Turning around, he saw that it was Zander who had restrained him.

“The fuck are you doin’!?” Vincent angrily questioned.

“Hold on,” Zander replied, his demor completely ice-cold and focused. His eyes were staring intently at the screen.

“Hold on!? She’s gonna die if we wait any longer!”

“Just listen to me!” Zander harshly responded.

Lucretia then turned back towards the camera. “Look what good resisting the natural order does. Money is the only way to ascend in this place—in this world—and to truly achieve freedom.”

She cracked the whip.

“But time and time again I see pointlessly hopeful people try to rebel against that notion.”

She looked over towards Livia, once again.

“And it seems that problem still hasn’t gone away. Perhaps we should instill a lesson.”

She reeled back her whip and let it fly. It raked across the torso of Livia, who cried bloody murder. Not withdrawing her aggression, Lucretia asked Livia, “Do you know how much you’ve hurt me?”

Livia could only answer in tears

Luicretia continued her whipping assault. “Answer me! Tell me that you’re sorry!”

Livia’s breath seemed to be gone, eaten away by the pain she was feeling. But somehow she managed to ink out the phrase, “I’m sorry.”

Lucretia stopped her attacks and faced the camera once again. “And so, peasants need to be reminded of their place and of the way the system works.”

Vincent wrenched free his arm from Zander’s grasp and yelled, “What the hell do you want to wait on!? Do you get kicks out of watching this or something’?”

Zander frigidly turned towards him and said, “No. I just don’t want you to fall for their trap.”

Vincent took a step back. “Trap? Who cares? I’ll take on any trap to save a friend.”

Zander’s eyes grew colder. “There’s no saving anyone. You’d fall into a trap for nothing.”

“What are you talking about?”

Zander pointed at the screen, solemnly, and said, “Do you recognize that man?”

Vincent looked at the spot on the TV that Zander was pointing to and saw who he was describing. It was a heavier-set man, wearing a green suit. The most noticeable feature of the man was their handlebar mustache.

“No, I’ve never—” and then it hit Vincent. His eyes shot back towards the restaurant, over towards the VIP section. He saw something that almost made him stumble over in confusion. Sitting in a luxury chair, knees and arms crossed, relaxingly enjoying the horror on the TV, was the very same man on that screen.

“What’s going here, Zander?” Vincent desperately asked. “Why are there two of them?”

Zander clenched his fist. “There’s only one.”

“But there’s clearly two.”

Zander grabbed Vincent by the shoulders, looked him in the eyes, and spoke into them. “There is only one of that man. The fact that he’s on the TV means that this is not a live event...it’s a recording.”

“I...I don’t…”

“Vincent. Listen to me.” Zander squeezed Vincet’s shoulders even tighter. “What we’re seeing already happened.”

Vincent nearly fell to his knees. “But we have to save her.”

“We can’t,” Zander replied. “If you rush off to the Collider, there will probably be guards waiting to ambush you. They’re trying to bait out the rest of the people who are allied with Livia.” Zander let go of Vincent’s shoulders. “All we can do is watch.”

Vincent limply climbed into his chair. There wasn’t a single muscle in his body that was working. They all felt the same despair in them—a despair that drowned out the ambition he was feeling just moments before. Even so, there was a conflicting battle raging within the deepest parts of himself. His heart tried to keep the flame of confrontation alive, but his mind accepted the truth that Zander bestowed upon him.

As he looked back at the screen, frozen from the inside out, he saw something that sent a warm chill down his spine. Livia was looking directly into the camera. Her demeanor had completely shifted to a calmer and more accepting one.

In turn, Vincent began to recall that same feeling. Memories of the dream he had began to flood his mind, although it was already too full to even begin to process those memories.

On the TV, Lucretia pulled out a gun. “It seems that there are still childish rebels in this place, and we cannot have that.”

She pointed the gun at Livia, who still kept the same expression on her face.

“And just like every other time, it seems that we need to make an example,” she continued. “Livia, my dear, do you have any last words?”

With a melancholy smile, Livia replied, “I still believe.”

Vincent turned his head away from the screen just as the gun fired.