I walk through the doors of Black Jack Dungeon. The place is dark with some red lights as lighting. The only area that is lit up is the tattooing station. Someone is seated on a rolling chair with their back to me and head bent down. Just as I am about to speak, a man walks in from the back area. He eyes me up for a second as he approaches the front desk.
"Can I help you?"
His voice is deep. His hair is dark and reaches his shoulder blades. He has a mustache and beard to compliment his look. He has a full sleeve of tattoos on his right arm and a few on his left. I absorb all these details for future reference if necessary.
"Is Jack around?"
"Speaking. What can I help you with?"
"Archer sent me."
Jack nods, he leans an arm against the desk, stroking his beard.
"Did he send you with something?"
I pull the envelope out of my pocket, handing it over. Jack opens the corner, looking inside. He studies the contents. Once he seems satisfied, he addresses me again.
"Follow me."
He starts walking back the direction he came. I follow him, passing the guy that is still hunched over. As I pass, I get a glimpse at what he's doing. He's drawing a dagger with flames.
"Don't bug me unless it's important, Jaycob."
Jaycob only grunts in response.
YOU ARE READING
The Forgotten
Fiction généraleWe are the runaways, the homeless, the deformed, and the people that society casts away and eventually forgets about. We are the people who are overlooked if noticed at all. We don't follow the rules of the commoners. We don't conform to societal no...
