Divided Worlds

A man is laying on a mattress, and his dark pillows are scattered on the ground, and half of his dark blanket is reaching the floor. The sunlight is streaming on the closed glass windows and they are reflecting on the floor through his window curtains. His eyes begin to move as they unseal themselves. He stands up but remains sitting on the mattress while holding the side of his head. "What happened to me?" he looked everywhere. His eyes stop on a rectangular table with emptied glass mugs; white bubbles can be seen in it with a couple of dark fluids. "Darn it!" he removes his hand from his head and remains to look at the emptied mugs, "I cannot remember how many I drank last night." He moves his eyes to the hanging television and it begins to activate itself. A smiling emoji can be seen on the blue screen monitor and a robotic voice speaks, "Good morning, Sir Dryden Baratheon Blade. The maids have served you breakfast–" A glass mug hits the television and cracks appear on the entire glass screen as the screen turns dark. "Gladly, I have a glass mug beside me," he whispered. He walks toward the small table underneath the hanging television. He grabs a leather wallet and puts it inside the pocket of his pants. Dryden moves his eyes toward the television, and extends his hand to its screen; there he can feel the sensation of the tear that he has caused. "Apology," he tells the television, "there are days that my ears are not fond of that name… so please, just speak, Dryden." He turns around from the television. He slides his hand inside the other pocket of his pants and brings out a phone. He presses numerous times on its screen and moves his phone closer to his ear. "Hello, Mang Juan." He looks down as he begins to tap his foot. "I indeed broke the television." "For what?" Dryden said. "Just come here and fix this," he turns around and looks at the television's screen, "garbage. Just fix this and I will triple the pay." Dryden didn't smile and remains standing in his position. "If you won't come here today, then I will rip your spinal cord from that pathetic body of yours." "Okay then." Dryden threw the phone away. He turns aside and runs in a certain direction while yelling, "I may be rich! But that phone is one of my riches! So be it!" He reaches the bathroom inside his room, and he looks everywhere until he sees the toilet. "Madness!" he moved his hand into the toilet and grabbed his phone from the water in the toilet. Afterward, Dryden is marching on spiral stairs and then the maids come ambling from the rooms in the mansion; they begin to form a straight line beside the spiral stairs as they are facing each other while standing in a distant place. Dryden reaches the end of the spiral stairs and the women begin to fold their upper bodies and look down. All of them begin to yell, "Good morning, Sir Dryden!" Dryden halts after walking across the final maid, and then he turns around and looks at each of the women's faces who remain looking down. "I appreciate the greetings. However, all of you are not in charge of greeting me," he tells them, "why did all of you greet me?" He was fed by their silence yet he insist on waiting for answers not until he begins to tap his foot. One of the maids leaves the line and walks straight toward him, and then she ceases her movement near his eyes. She speaks, "Back when you were a kid, sir, you've always been fond of greetings. "All of us thought that since it's your birthday today, maybe greeting you while showing great respect might captivate your heart." Dryden begins to move his head gently while staring at her. "Greeting someone a happy birthday, especially your master, is very wrong. "I appreciate the efforts that all of you put into your greetings, however, if this occurs next time then I will take no measure in suspending all of you." He turns around with his calm eyes and so he begins to walk towards the large wooden doors. "Birthdays are for weak people," he holds the sleeve of his polo and looks at his golden watch, "It's 10:00 in the morning, the right time for the meeting." Dryden continues to amble from the mansion. A limousine stops in front of him, and multiple men wearing dark uniforms step out from the limousine. One of them holds the car door handle, and he pulls the handle thence Dryden steps into the limousine without looking at the man who opened the door for him. Dryden takes in a large draft of liquid. "You know the place, Manuel." Manuel, the old man handling the driver seat, glances at the internal mirror and nods. Hence, the limousine begins to move forward while Dryden remains looking forward. Dryden feels an object vibrating in his pocket, he slides his hand into the pocket of his pants and brings out a phone. He presses the screen and moves it toward his ear. "Make sure your call is worth the wait, Amoux. I am not willing to waste my time just to entertain some jokes." Amoux speaks, "Brother, what do you call a gun that will turn you around?" Dryden rolls his eyes. "A what, Amoux? What gun?" Amoux utters a short soft laugh. "A revolver." Dryden begins to narrow his eyes. "Stop making jokes and let's go to the main cuisine." "Fine, fine, brother!" Amoux tells him, "I am speaking to you today to tell you that the stability in Ginto City is fine." Dryden looks down. "Well, that's good. As long as the city remains in its peaceful era then there's no need for us to move." Amoux chuckles. "You've told me that like so many times, brother." Meanwhile, a young man is standing in front of a terrace while holding a phone closer to his ear. He moves his phone from his ear and puts it in the pocket of his phone. "Well, Brother Dryden," he whispers, "I am hoping that the peace that you established here will remain in its balance." He jumps aside and a knife flies across him. Amoux grabs the kitchen knife but he tosses it as his hand is trembling. He holds his wrist while staring at his reddening hand, then he looks up and sees two taller men walking towards him while their hands are swinging in sync. He yells, "How dare you play tricks against me?!" The two taller men halt, and one of them says calmly. "Amoux Blade, surrender now or die." Amoux glances behind him and looks back at the two taller men. Hence he turns around and runs toward the edge of the terrace. Amoux climbs on the metallic fence and leaps from the terrace whilst one of the two men is wielding a gun; the gun is pointing at Amoux and then the one who is wielding the gun presses the trigger. Amoux's eyes widen while falling from the terrace, and his body strikes against air conditioners. "This building has 6 levels," one of the taller men speaks, "and now we're at the highest level. Amoux will die of blood loss and if he did survive his fall then we will come to him again and make sure that he'll die." The one who is holding the gun hides the gun in the pocket of his coat. Then they turn around and walk away from the terrace.