Stellar Lucifer

Chapter 8: We're Gonna Die Anyway

~Lucas~

Why?

Why am I hiding the security card in my back pocket? Was Daiz trying to get me into trouble?

If Doctor Apollo and that Hermes dude found out that the card was with me, who knows how much trouble I'll get myself into.

The cafeteria was bustling with life—not to forget food-seeking staffs and sweet-induced beasts—and twenty dark blue long tables adorned the area, matching light blue long chairs on both sides. Hermes's black combat boots click-clacked annoyingly, and the random chatters of Doctor Apollo's employees filled my ears with a sort of comfortable distraction.

Distraction from the fact that the doctor's security card is inside my back pocket.

The time specifically read 8:32 pm, and the cafeteria struggled to keep its residents cooped up. A German chef named Brondis served us what seemed like the most gorgeous, five-storey dark chocolate cake, lined with chocolate chips, crumbles and syrup. I gulped in response to tame my protesting stomach, and Leslie winced when Daiz—who was seated to his right—howled like a loony wolf.

Keina sat to my right, while Frederich sat to my left. Daiz was seated right in front of me, and Doctor Apollo was situated on his right. Hermes sat on Leslie's left, while all the other researchers partied like they've known me all their lives.

"This is messed up," I grumbled, eyeing Daiz—who was eyeing the cake like a deranged predator. Keina patted my back gently, and my hand instinctively rushed to my pocket, reassuring myself that the Ophiuchus key was okay.

"What's messed up?" Leslie questioned, tearing his eyes off the golden chandelier right above our heads. I wanted to complain and all, since Daiz never said anything to me after that incident this morning. Well, nothing that actually made sense, that is.

"Everyone's welcoming you, dude," Daiz said, trying to grab a slice of cake, but Hermes swatted his hand away with his slender but muscled ones. "Haven't washed your hands yet," he spat, and the latter just sank back to his seat in defeat.

Doctor Apollo never even tried to explain what's wrong with our bodies. Why do we have abilities? Why do we need those 'treatments' that Frederich mentioned? I was practically boring holes through Doctor Apollo's skull, but he simply shrugged it off. About three seconds later, a man with tanned brown skin and light brown hair tied into a small ponytail approached us, a bottle of fine wine in his hand. His light brown eyes flashed with amusement when I entered his gaze, and as Doctor Apollo held out his glass, the man poured the wine for him like some sort of waiter.

"This is Tristian, professional engineer, our mechanic and inventor of some of the most advanced vehicles here in Nyx," Doctor Apollo declared proudly as he patted Tristian's left shoulder, and the latter beamed widely. "Thanks," he answered, slightly chapped lips curling up to a genuine smile. "It's a pleasure to finally get to meet the grandson of William Luca Stellar."

I lowered my head, fearing that recognition. Some people only acknowledge me because of my family background, but not because of what I can do. They recognized my father—who was actually a pretty brilliant entrepreneur before the death of my mom. He had given up his current position and decided to dedicate his time to me, since he used to travel all around the world as well, leaving me with a babysitter.

Doctor Apollo must've noticed my uncomforted behavior, because he cleared his throat and stood up begrudgingly, metallic scraping sound erupting from the tiled floor.

"Enough with the formalities, my fellow researchers," the doctor chided, and the entire cafeteria fell into dead silence. All heads whipped to face our direction, and all eyes glued onto him. "The fifth member of the family: Lucas Stellar!"