Christina’s words replayed in his mind repeatedly. Something inside him was telling him to stay cautious, don’t trust anyone within this place. He agreed. Especially coming from an officer.

He remembered the officer’s departing words as he headed into the Class A’s canteen. The stark contrast to the difference in treatment was clear. Luxurious seats lined the hall. The velvet cushions looked comfier than his barracks bunk bed. Chandeliers grandly hung from the ceiling above. It surprised him there weren't any musicians playing their instruments in the corner.

The smell of perfectly cooked meat tickled his nose as he rushed towards the food counters. It was a different lunch lady than he was used to, but they all looked the same to him. They were angels sent from above to send him food. The only difference being where the tall hats they wore. A man's commands shouted throughout the kitchen like it was a battlefield with lives on the line.

“Get that fucking Steak Au Poivre on the service line or don’t you fucking dare come back to work the next day, you useless runts!”

“What the fuck is that smell? Who’s the useless twat that doesn’t even know how to cook potatoes?”

“How the fuck have you forgotten to turn on the cooker? Are you dense?"

"My grandmother can cook better than you and she’s a corpse twenty feet underground!”

His screeching shouts belted throughout the kitchen as Alphonse awaited his food. His forehead had wrinkled, turning it into a permanent scowl, as if someone had cut it out with a knife. He wiped the thick sweat from his head with a towel as he walked to the front of the kitchen, where Alphonse was awaiting his food.

“What are you wanting, boy?” His thick, hairy forearms pressed up against the counter.

“Just give me a plate of everything you have.” Alphonse rubbed his stomach. He didn’t care about the rough treatment, all he wanted was his food.

"You new here? Ain’t seen your face around these parts.” The gruff middle-aged man plated Alphonse’s food with extreme care and speed. He expertly decorated the sauce around the plate as he perfectly placed the food, creating a work of art. Alphonse was shocked at the sight, surprised at the small portion sizes.

“They have reallocated me to class A.” Alphonse’s eyes looked at the exquisite food as it piled up in front of him.

“Reallocated?” the chef said in surprise. “Ah, that does not happen often.

“I was just lucky, that’s all.” Alphonse grabbed hold of the plates and brought them over to an empty table.

Alphonse gazed at the piece of steak in front of him. The piece of beef had fat marbling all the way through it. Somehow, the juices stayed within, as not even a speck of liquid had left the succulent piece of meat.

Alphonse sliced a piece off as he brought it to his mouth. His taste buds already began tingling before it even entered his mouth. Taking a bite, the flavour and juices exploded within his mouth as his eyes sparkled.

< Spirited Spined Cow consumed >

| 3.6 strength added

| 4.4 constitution added

| 2.8 wisdom added

| 4.2 intelligence added

Alphonse incredulously looked over towards the chef. He had already begun shouting and screaming. Despite his rough personality, his cooking was incredible. Even the stats it gave were impressive, considering he didn’t kill it or cook it himself.

He must be an amazing chef. I wonder if Markus can reach that level, my personal top level chef. Alphonse drooled at the thought.

“Hey, Alphonse, you’re here.” Markus’ loud voice boomed within the hall as everyone looked over with a frown on their faces.

“Judging by the look on your face, you like the food, eh?” Markus laughed as he placed his tray of food on the table.

“Mmm, it’s good.” Alphonse mumbled, the food still stuck in his mouth. “Lucus and the others?”

“Why’d you have to ruin my good mood?” Tariq plopped his rear onto the seat as he bit into a piece of his steak. “I’d be surprised if they have the balls to show their faces around us.”

“Shouldn’t we let them off the hook?” Felecia sat down as the others looked at her with a frown on their faces. “I mean, we were all under a lot of stress, right? The voices inside our heads didn’t help either. I doubt he meant it.”

“Did we betray and leave them to die?” Alphonse took another bite of whatever meat was in front of him. "Or almost burn us alive?"

“Alright.” Felecia dropped her shoulders. “Anyway, can’t you boys talk without your mouths full all the damn time?” Her sad expression immediately turned to a frown as she admonished what was left of the group.

“Sorry, boss,” Tariq saluted as he broke out into a cheeky grin. “Anyway, how was your debriefing?”

“A lot of questions about Alphonse,” Markus said. “Don’t worry Al, I didn’t tell them anything they didn’t need to know.”

Alphonse smiled. “It’s fine. They know everything anyway. Maybe a bit too much.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if one of them had a mind reading skill.” Tariq said.

“They seem suspicious of you, Alphonse.” Felecia looked nervous as she looked around.

“Trust me, I know.” Alphonse shook his head.

“You can just chalk it up to your rare ability? What’s so suspicious about that?” Markus shook his head, he couldn’t understand.

“What do you all plan on doing on your holidays?” Alphonse changed the subject as he finished his food. It wasn’t a lot, but the quality more than made up for it.

“Good question.” Tariq said. “Now that Alphonse is in class A, how about we go out and celebrate our comeback?

“Celebrate where?” Felecia looked at Tariq.

“C’mon Felecia,” Tariq grinned. “Obviously at the Dusty Root Pub.”

“Isn’t that filled with hoodlums?”

“Maybe.” Tariq shrugged his shoulders. “Well, alright, it’s definitely filled with some good for nothing's, but it’s special. You’ll find out when we get there. Just ask Haydon, it turned his quiet shadow into a party demon.”

The others looked at Haydon as he refused to make a comment.

“IF we go there Tariq, can’t say I’m a fan of the thought.” Felecia shook her head.

“Why don’t we have a look?” Alphonse said. It would be a good chance to destress.

“See!” Tariq laughed. “If Alphonse is going, that means we’re all going. To the Dusty Root!”

The group made their way to the Dusty Root. The pub was much deeper in the ship than Alphonse had ever travelled before. He even questioned if Tariq was taking them the right way. They went as far down as they could with the elevators, then they had to take the service stairs down that were made only for the engineers and mechanics to repair the ship.

Alphonse looked at the mechanically moving parts around him. The sound of air being pressed and shot filled the pipes above their head. Many of them had rusted beyond belief. It was a miracle they were still in working order.

“Hey Tariq, are you sure this is the way? This looks like where all the generators are or something.” Markus looked around, he was afraid of touching anything in case it broke down. He didn’t want to make the ship fall out of space.

“What are you worrying about, man?” Tariq shook his head as his fingers trailed across the rusted pipes as they rattled. “My senior took me here before. It was a wild night. So many babes were crawling over me. You should have seen it.”

“Yeah, in your dreams maybe.” Felecia scoffed.

“What, they didn’t run away when you approached them?” Markus laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, make fun of me. We’ll see when we get there. I’m practically a celebrity.” Tariq crossed his arms.

They were approaching a door that had big red letters spray painted on. ‘Undercity.’ Something, or someone, slammed open a small opening in the door as a pair of large multi-coloured eyes peered from behind the panel.

“Business or pleasure?” Despite the beautiful multi-coloured eyes, a decrepit voice reached their ears.

“Pleasure.” Tariq walked forwards. His hands pulled out his personal device as he placed the screen against a small reading device next to the door. Then, the door opened.

"Tariq, are we even allowed to be here?" Alphonse questioned.

"Don't worry about it. People come down here all the time."

“Tariq, where the hell have you brought us?” Felecia’s voice quivered.

“This is the Undercity, missy. Enjoy your stay.” The multi-coloured eyes made their full appearance. Bug-like arms sprouted from his shoulders. They were in the shape of razor sharp scythes. Large antennas bounced up from his head as his sharp teeth were confidently displayed.

What has Tariq pulled us into this time? The thought stirred as he walked forward, into the underground city hidden within the mother-ship.