I followed Jon through the crowd and marvelled at the sheer number of people on the street vying to gain entry to La Roseraie. He explained in between throwing punches and shoving the would be patrons out of our way that the people were all there to see one show. It had been advertised for the last week that the “Burning Passion” show would be happening tonight and that it was a favourite of the degenerates that frequented this establishment.

I had no idea what to expect but was confident that if the show was this popular it would be an excellent opportunity to study the patrons.

At the large double door main entry were a number of burly men armed with various weapons. One of them recognized Jon and waved him through with me following closely behind. As we entered I was struck by the vast space within the blood red walls.

The entire main floor was one massive show room, stepped down into five layers with each tier organized like the petals of a rose stepping down to the centre of the room where a raised stage was located and draped in gold and red silk. From the stage rose five gleaming steel poles, attached to the tops of the poles were chains, and at the ends of each chain was manacled a naked woman.

As Jon brought me to a table on the topmost tier he muttered that he hated this show. Taking my seat I scanned the room that had already been full when we walked in and observed that the patrons had an air of anticipation about them, and that all of them had energy flowing through them almost spastically jolting from one place to another in their brains. The energy was coalescing In a number of different places in their minds, one of which was the fear centre, this was most intriguing.

Jon got up as the lights dimmed and said he did not want to watch the show. He was going to try and find Le Jardinier, the proprietor of La Roseraie.

As the music started the women on the stage began to dance, the movements were jagged and forced. Each of the five women had the energy in their fear centres amplified and I surmised that they were absolutely terrified. What could they be so afraid of? But their movements were choreographed and the people in their seats were enthralled by their  movements. The energy flowing to the patrons pleasure centres as they looked at each of the women lustfully. 

After the song ended and the lights dimmed so low it was nearly impossible to see the stage, the room became electric with anticipation. This was what the patrons were here to really see. I observed a hooded figure in the back of the crowd and as the cowl lifted slightly from their face I recognized the demonic glow of an Inferno augment!

I thought that this could not be, this person was no Guardian, they had no Halo. How did they have an augment from the Citadel?

I did not have long to ponder these questions as the stage in the centre of the room where the five women had been dancing erupted in a pillar of fire. The patrons rose from their seats and cheered as the women were engulfed in a towering inferno. The screams emanating from the stage were drowned out by the roar of the flames and their previous jagged movements were replaced with panicked scrambling to escape the searing heat.

It seemed that just as quickly as it had begun the inferno subsided, leaving only a burnt and charred space in the centre of the room with melted and twisted metal where the poles had stood. The lights went up and the patrons continued to cheer wildly as I sat numb in my seat.

A bejewelled hand grasped my shoulder and I will never forget the deep sonorous voice from behind me.

“The most beautiful gardens require pruning from time to time. Would you not agree?”

Alexander Motus, Guardian # 51