THE GLITTERATI ☆ prologue

PROLOGUE ☆ ONE LESS GLITTERATI

The Galleria, Glittera Falls

Auction Round 1

THE GALLERIA was packed to capacity, every seat hosting one of the glitterati, the elite and wealthy individuals that made up more than seventy-five percent of the population in the town built on the riches of a select few. The occasion tonight was one of the utmost importance, a night in which bidding held an entirely different meaning. The subjects stood on marble platforms lining the stage in the center of the lavish gallery, ready to subject themselves to their heartless buyers if it meant becoming one.

They were a few blue-collar locals from the other side of Glittera Bridge, nestled in a little province that sat neglected from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the town. Equally neglected were their bodies ― conduits of filth and grime as a result of intermittent water supply ― as opposed to the gleaming skin the glitterati wore, like that of diamonds under a spotlight.

Tonight though, the oppressed and forgotten were opulent themselves, each one looking more glamorous than the next.

The Olympics were just a few weeks away, a rave scheduled for the night before: a celebration held for the initiatives to be featured in the upcoming Olympics. This was the chance many of them had been asking for, to regain the statuses they once claimed. To become a member of the Glitterati themselves and leave their old lives behind. It was often forgotten that there could only be one champion. For them, dreams were better than reality.

The audience erupted into cheers of excitement as a lone figure emerged from a tunnel on the opposite end of the Galleria floor, the occasional charcuterie board uprooted from the ledges before each seat as a result of a few witnesses jumping up in anticipation. His name was Holland, famously known by the entire town as the Auctioneer, the talented orchestrator of events that had to do with the Glittera Olympics. He was also the only person who knew what the Founder looked like which is why he kept up his appearances for the both of them since, understandably, he had a town to run.

Holland stepped onto the stage, nodding at the subjects as he passed them before pausing at a marble podium placed in the center that faced his eager audience. He was sporting a classic black and white suit with coattails ― his signature look on a night like this. Something only he could pull off, no matter the undeniable amount of model-ready glitterati youth that looked up to him.

“Good evening.” His voice echoed throughout the arena, catching the attention of five separate groups stationed in Pillars against the wall to his left. Tonight’s buyers. They stood, armed with clipboards and pens, commenting on each of the five choices before ranking them in order from desirable to last resort. It was unclear whether they enjoyed the job of virtually adopting the lower class for the purpose of the Olympics, but it was an esteemed position nonetheless. One that kept their pockets satisfied and their stomachs well-fed. “Tonight marks round one of the auctions. By the end of the month, we will have fifteen initiatives, all to participate as Olympians in this year’s Glittera Olympics!” More applause. “Now, I know you all are aware of the nature of the Auction, but as a reminder, this is a friendly event. Any malicious intentions detected from any Pillar participating in the buying tonight will have consequences, agreed?”

The crowd replied in unison, eager to let the bidding begin.

☆

ALEXIA HILTON kicked off her heels in the foyer, making her way to the winding staircase. The Auction tonight was a bit more tense than usual, her anger getting the best of her in the heat of the moment. Before Holland could call her out on it, she excused herself from the bidding floor, craving the comfort of a hot bath and a glass of champagne. The mansion she lived in was lightly furnished, most of the decorum utilized for her bedroom and the living room. The kitchen was hardly used, Hilton barely home during the evening to even get a chance to cook herself a decent meal. Most of what she ate came from bistros in the strip mall and the classic restaurants downtown.

Alexia slid the door open to her spacious master bedroom, perusing the wall of record albums she’d prided herself in keeping in pristine condition. She held a profound proclivity for the classics, settling on Teenager in Love by Dion & the Belmonts. The needle scratched against the record for a few seconds before the song started, Alexia’s tension already starting to release.

She started a bath, humming along to the song as she went, waiting until the soap suds threatened to spill over the side of the tub before she cut the water off. Alexia stepped out of her dress as if to rid her entire body of the night’s events and slipped into the tub. The mountains of soap suds floating at the surface of the water embraced her. She sighed, closing her eyes in an attempt to clear her head. Of course, there was nothing she could do to erase tonight’s regret. Holland’s face stayed at the forefront of her mind, reminding her of just how badly she’d screwed up tonight.

She’d gotten into an argument with one of her main opposing Pillars, headed by the infamous Clareice Townsend herself. Ironically, her personality was spelled out in her first name — ice. Especially when there was a competition at play. She could tell before the auction began that Clareice was gunning for her, her ability to stay calm uncanny compared to hers.

Easy to do when you were the one that started the fight.

Long before the Olympics — and even the establishment of Glittera Falls — Clareice and Alexia were inseparable. Two college graduates ready to take on the world. But the Falls didn’t care about your education, or your past. When they stumbled across the lavish town, they were intrigued by the fresh take on authoritative structures and the focus on wealth that would ensure their success. It wasn’t fully developed at that point in time, but the potential was evident. When the Founding Father contacted them, a deal was made not shortly after. Only they were two of few who were smart enough to work their way into the town’s infrastructure instead of giving up everything they had. Or let it be taken from them, for that matter. It only mattered what you could contribute to the politics and the games along with it.

That’s what contributed to their success.

Soon enough, Clareice’s ego became too big to keep up with her best friend any longer. That’s exactly what kept Alexia seething with anger.

Exactly an hour later, Alexia stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around herself, not bothering with her clothes in a pile on the marble floor. She took her time descending the staircase just as a dark figure slipped inside the mansion from the back door.

Well into routine, Alexia was sure to unarm the security system on her way home, but the fatigue she was fighting through right now to indulge in a glass of champagne before bed caused her to neglect two very important things:

1. She forgot to reset the alarm after safely inside, and
2. Every house key was the same in Glittera Falls.

She flicked the kitchen light on, the fixtures suspended above the island illuminating one by one. In the midst of her tired thoughts, the dark figure had bounded upstairs just seconds after she’d reached the main floor, restarting the song she’d put on when she got home and skillfully returning to post around the corner from the kitchen without a sound. The dark figure slid out of sight just as the last lightbulb awoke, taking a second to go into character.

This became a sort of ritual, that whenever consequences were due, the figure took care of the dirty work, helping itself to whatever pleased its eye before finishing the job and erasing any indicators that could lead The Company, the legal body that watched over Glittera Falls, back to it. Whether that meant framing it on someone else or simply covering its tracks, the odds were as good as any.

That was more of a formality, really, given that The Company was made up of the Founder himself and a few of his closest constituents. Policing in Glittera Falls was highly subjective. The only actions that were strictly taboo besides animosity during the auctions were conspiring against any member of the elite uninstructed and failing to comply with any rules.

The opportunity presented itself effortlessly, an amused chuckle almost escaping the figure’s throat as Alexia reached toward a high shelf, fingers gradually closing around the neck of a champagne bottle lying on its side. Just as she got a good grip on it and began to pull it down towards her, a gloved hand grabbed a hold of damp hair, yanking Alexia to the ground in one swing.

On her way down, she made an effort to turn and face her attacker, her left temple coming into contact with the very edge of the island, a single holler escaping her throat. The glass bottle came down with her, shattering into a million shards around her. The figure peered down at her, mysterious grey eyes meeting fading green ones, one heart ceasing to beat as the other’s heart rate elevated in euphoria.

One less glitterati.

Another victory for the blue-collar scum.

The figure paused for a moment, as if to pay its respects to its victim, before reaching up to its head and removing a peculiar headband adorned with a pair of wooden antlers and placing them onto Alexia’s draining skull. The antlers were the symbol of Glittera Falls, belonging to the deer, an animal that symbolized regeneration. More central to the town was the meaning of sacrifice, that not everything comes as easily as breathing.

The figure stepped back, admiring its work before grabbing ahold of Alexia’s ankles and dragging her through the foyer, toward the front door. It worked quickly, like taking lives were its own private profession, finding the car keys to a cream Mercedez, and disposing of the body in the trunk.

Before the figure returned to the dark, it collected a few valuables, saluting the first camera it passed and blowing a kiss at the second. It chuckled, the sound echoing off the mansion’s walls and revealing a secret still unspoken.

This wasn’t the usual equalizer that was appointed by the Founder himself. This figure held ties to the opposite side of the bridge. A victim of everything Glittera Falls stood for. Humming on its way out, it shut the door, slipping into the driver’s seat of its victim’s luxury car.

From here, it took no longer than half an hour to reach the Falls, taking the scenic route on the way up the mountain. The figure parked the car facing the cliffs, the tide rising dangerously below a dark grey sky.

The perfect weather for a homicide.

Finding a boulder, the figure propped it up against the acceleration pedal, shifting the car into drive, and watched quietly as it disappeared off the edge of the cliff.