The Masked Historian Part 2 (Troya)

“He’s probably at the reception counter,” I thought aloud. I walk down one of the long corridors of the library as I search for him. My Discipline Seskk* . My *Mentor. My Boss. Mr. Limbo, or as he used to be called a long time ago, Lloyd.

I make my way down to a escalator as I observe the first floor. I didn’t see anything. It was dark. Oddly, the first floor was less illuminated than usual. The library was enormous. It was akin to very large warehouse (About the size of 2 football stadiums) and 10 stories high.

The lights were dimmed and some parts of the lower library were shrouded in pitch black. Mostly likely to conserve energy.

I reach the bottom of the escalator and made my way to the reception desk. I cut through the horror isle and made my way to the front lounging area where the desk was located. The lights in the lounging area were were dimmed down. However, the fireplace nearby had been lit.

The fires burned a bright orangish yellow; which, illuminated the couches and other lounging areas in the vicinity. I approached the lounging area. I stopped when I saw a figure lying down on one of the couches. I turned in the person’s direction and proceeded to side step a couch beside me. On my way to the figure and suddenly realize who it is.

“Mr. Limbo?” I questioned. Nothing. He lie motionless on the couch without making a single movement. I scrunch my eyebrows. I approach closer and call his name louder. “Mr. Limbo.” Nothing. I stepped closer yet again.

Mr. Limbo was wearing his usual all black tuxedo suit with red tie. The suit was worn with age. The suit that was probably at one point a nebula black, was now a fade greyish black. His shoes were shining black and completely uncreased.

Then there was his mask. Mr. Limbo wore a plain blank emotionless mask that covered his face. The mask was white with the only two distinctive features being its slanted eyeholes. He wore the mask at ALL TIMES.

I’ve never seen him without it on, nor have I seen him take it off. When I asked why he never took it off, he would get really agitated. I could tell it was a touchy subject. Especially with all the deep scars and burns on his skin around his mask.

You could mostly see 3rd degrees covering his skin. Most notably, a large patch of burnt skin that could be seen coming up from the entire left side of his neck and nearly covering his face.

Mr. Limbo still lay on couch unmoved. I put my ear near his mouth.

“He’s still breathing,” I thought.

I had to check when it comes to him. Mr. Limbo is a very old Lycanthrope and one of the only people in this sector without any serious modifications. Meaning, the only thing keeping him alive… was him.

I shake him gently.

“Lloyd,” I called.

Hoping to call him by his actual name; he would wake him. He stirred. I watched as his eyelids opened slowly, revealing the glowing small yellow dots of his eyes.

He groaned loudly as he sat up. I stepped back slightly to give him some space. He straightened on the couch and took a deep breath. He looked around the lounging area before his eyes stopped on the fireplace.

I examined him. I’ve known Mr. Limbo since I was cub. Back when I was scavenging through the trash trying find something to eat. Back when I got picked up by the authorities and placed into an adoption home for displaced children. The Hellsing Orphanage.