In Chicago, a few hours from Shelbyville, Megan Hitchcock, also known as Morticia, famous psychiatrist, and pro gamer, also Cory's sister, was ending her day of consultation with a cold glass of whisky.
She had a long day and already knew her night wouldn't be any more restful. Her duties in New Eden, which Phoenix had unceremoniously slapped onto her lap, took up much of her time.
At least until they finished setting up the office, and she could get a few hires to work for her. But until then, her plate was often full.
She didn't mind the added work, for now, given it helped her social studies into the player mentality. Her paper on this was advancing by leaps and bounds, and she was glad about it.
That was the whole reason she picked up gaming, to begin with. She only found herself a talent at it once she played Tower of Babel and became a top ranker.
Her ability to read a person's intention from their body language had allowed her to shine in the PVP format of the game and made her into some kind of big shot.
Thinking on her workload for later, Megan downed her glass before pouring herself another one.
"I hope I get to go back to levelling soon. I'm getting bored with being clustered in an office day in and day out…"
When she thought about how her kid brother had been going on adventures lately, she felt a pang of jealousy. But it quickly subsided when she thought of how he was going back to school soon.
She tilted her chair back, enjoying her drink a bit, before she needed to head back home through the traffic of Chicago.
'I should take a few weeks of vacation. Focus on my research paper from home, in a more relaxed manner…' she thought, taking another sip of her whisky, as the ice clinked against the glass.
***
Far to the east of there, in New York City, Damien Grimm was currently ending his day of fooling around in country clubs and drinking his ass off, before going back to his penthouse downtown.
He had his assistant drive him around all day since he knew he would be drunk by the end of the day, and wouldn't be apt to drive. His assistant, much used to seeing his boss completely sloshed, simply made sure he got home safe and sound, without making stops on the way there.
After parking in the underground car lot, he brought Damien to the elevator, slapping the penthouse's code into the command box, and held his boss until they were inside the condo.
"You know, Louis, hic, if you weren't so darn useful, I would probably have fired you already, hic."
"I thank your eternal generosity, Master Damien. Shall I run you a cold bath before you log into New Eden?" Louis responded, his tone as neutral as he could.
"Yesh. A bath sounds good. But make it hot, hic. I don't like cold water."
"As you wish, Master Damien."
Louis brought the young man to the large, luxurious sofa before setting him down. As Damien practically instantly passed out, Louis left to go run a bath for him.
As soon as he was far enough, his face darkened to a hate-filled mask.
Louis couldn't stand working for Damien. His days were a rinse and repeat of this all the time.
Drag his ass around until he was too drunk to think straight, and bring him back home, suffering a slew of insults along the way. When he wasn't piss drunk, he was calling on whores in the penthouse and terrorizing them.
When he wasn't outright beating them.
But his situation forced him there. He couldn't leave Damien unless he wanted to end up in jail.
Many times Louis had thought about leaving, or even worsening his sentence by shoving Damien off his balcony. But the fear of going to prison held him at bay.
'If only you hadn't stumbled into me that night… I would be free of all this nonsense…'
Thinking back to the fateful night when Damien bound him to his service, Louis shuddered. He could still feel the cold air of November brush against his face, and the warm blood on his hands.
It had all happened so fast, and Damien was passing by when it did. The young man, back then barely an adult, had been so helpful in helping him hide the body, swearing he would keep his mouth shut, so long as Louis worked for him.
If he had known what working for Damien meant, back then, he would have delivered himself to the authorities. He hadn't wanted to kill that poor man, but he had rushed him with a knife.
'It was all in self-defence,' Louis had kept telling himself, at night, when his dreams filled with visions of blood.
But the act of hiding the body, instead of calling the authorities, had transformed his manslaughter charge into a murder charge, making his case worse than it already was.
ραΠdαsΝοvel.cοm 'If only I had called the police. I would be out of prison already…' he thought, as his breath became ragged.
He had to pull himself out of his stupor as the bath was full already, but his skin had gone deathly pale and he was sweating profusely.
Louis washed his face briefly, drying out his clammy hands, before getting Damien up for his bath. Reaching the living room, he saw Damien completely tapped out, and his mind fluttered to dark urges, before going back to empty.
He walked over to Damien, shaking him lightly awake.
"Master Damien."
"Huh? What?!" Damien half-shouted, waking up in a jump.
"Your bath is ready, Master Damien."
"Huh? Yes, my bath. About time, you good for nothing. How long is it to run a bath? I had time to fall asleep."
Louis clenched his jaw for a second before bowing a bit.
"I'm sorry, Master. I will make sure it takes less time in the future."
"Good. Now help me up. My legs feel like jello."
Louis helped the man up before bringing him to the bathroom, where he helped undress him and lowered him into the bath.
Damien passed out once more in the bath, and Louis had to resist another urge to just shove his head under the water.
'I hate him. I hate him so much! He ruined my life!' he thought, waiting to the side.
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