TSotFH Ch.2

Elsewhere

~

 The tall, darkly dressed man walked through the dimly lit halls of the old Faenworth Estate, his heavy footsteps echoing against the corridors. The torches mounted on the walls cast an eerie shadow as he walked by, giving his features a more foreboding and mysterious look. The man was alone here in this passageway, his only company being the dancing blueish flames and the burnt iron holsters that accommodated them.

After some walking, the man reached reached what was a large, sturdy oak door. He was about to enter, when suddenly he heard voices coming from the other side. “What do we do? “ A voice clamored. “Surely we can’t be this far in. “Another mousey voice said. “This is a catastrophe! Where the hell is Sypher?! “ The loud voice boomed again. That was his cue. The man swiftly placed his hand on the  doorknob, and pulled the door open carefully. 

The rusted hinges whined as they were compelled to yield. Light streamed into the dim corridor from the room beyond, and Sypher stepped inside, closing the door behind him. What was before him was something much unlike the archaic setting he’d just exited. There were fluorescent lamps hanging from the ceiling, seeming to stem from nowhere, a small trolley off to the side holding coffee, sugar, and various other assortments, and in the middle, one large table with three chairs, two of them filled with two unhappy looking men. “Glad you could join us, Daniel. Have a seat. “Said the large man, and he did so.

This was Alfred Faenworth, the current Faenworth descendant in charge of the estate. Or as he flamboyantly liked to be called: “Lord of the Estate “ Alfred was a portly man. He had a thick, gray moustache that made up for the hair he’d lost on his head, beady, green eyes that always gave off the impression that he was squinting, and he rarely ever smiled. Dressing fancily, wherever he went, Alfred Faenworth was always sure to look his best, even for situations like these.

 “Can we get to back to the business at hand? “Said the high pitched, almost whiney voice from the other end of the table. This was Maxwell Sinclair. Besides being greedy, scandalous, scheming…well, besides being a business man, he was quite the opposite. Sinclair had the constitutional fortitude of a twig (which Alfred made sure to poke fun at him for), his voice was obviously high and whimpering. He didn’t have much of the confidence or business-assuredness that his partner had. 
But what he DID have, was an extraordinary skill at scams. “Maxwell Sinclair: Conman extraordinaire! “He’d always say to himself.

" It’s about time you got here, Daniel. Now hurry up, and sit down. We’ve got a situation here. " Alfred barked at him. He did so, and looked at the large projector screen on the wall, prompted by a hulky projecting machine in the middle of the table. Maxwell pressed a button, the lights went out, and the screen flickered to life. A photograph of a modern day city is shown. Daniel wondered what city it was.

"Two hours before…" Alfred began. Maxwell clicked the button again, and a picture of the same city was shown, except there seemed to be a dark, overhanging shadow over all the skyscrapers. Daniel could see people on the ground in the photo, who didn’t seem at all worried. "One hour before." Maxwell clicked the button once more, and the city was shown in ruins. There were huge, vicious vines covering the rubble. They gripped destruction like a trophy, and were the color of amethyst.

For a long time, nobody said anything. Alfred just let this grim picture sink in. Then, after maybe ten minutes, he finally said – "Gentlemen, what you are looking at, is modern day Los Angeles, California – Thirteen days from now."