Sinister Six

The Tomb

Consilio Secretis- The Assembly of Secrets, was inscribed over the heads of all who entered The Skull and Bones tomb. The smell of food and wine intoxicated you as you entered the main hall with its gaudily frescoed walls. To the left of the main hall entrance, was an ostentatious mahogany staircase that ascended to a second floor which housed council members' offices, and a noteworthy library. Lining the walls of the dimly lit hallway were some fifty years of photographs of previous Bonesmen. Housed between the library and offices was Parlor 322 the sanctum sanctorum-or 'pit of despair' as Manon liked to call it. A cold, black marble hearth fireplace was the focal point of the parlor. Inscribed below the mantel was a motto: Rari Quippe Boni- the good are indeed a few. Located to the left of the mantel was a 19th-century French gothic writing table, where all Bonesmen were required to sign in for the weekly meetings. The table was adorned with a white Carrara marble skull, supposedly found at the Palace of Roman Emperor Tiberius. The skull was a representation of death and mortality. There as a reminder to everyone Malo Mori Quam Foedari- Death rather than dishonor.

"Alistair!" bellowed Archibald Pitrovsky, as he extended his hand in greeting to Alistair. Archibald was a brawny, stone-faced man and vice president of the council.

Manon despised Pitrovsky and everything that he stood for, and everything his entire family before him stood for. Bile formed in her throat at the sight of him.

"Manon, Mr. Brooks tells me you're his utmost superlative Latin student."

"Someone has to keep the potential candidates for Skull and Bones on their toes, right Pitrovsky?" Jeered Manon.

Relinquishing a strained laugh, Archibald focused his attention back on Alistair.

"No doubt you'll bring us a prize from the scavenge!" Pitrovsky snickered and winked as he excused himself.

"Here. You look like you could use this," Etienne remarked. Handing a glass of wine to Manon.

Manon was quick to chug her drink. "Not even a thank you?" Etienne questioned jokingly.

Manon raised an eyebrow, she wasn't in the mood to joke around. Etienne rubbed the nape of his neck awkwardly and lowered his gaze.

"Welcome," a plummy, booming voice filled the Parlor. The Parlor became silent. "Tonight, we are here to welcome a new member to the council. Everyone knows this individual as a committed, unwavering Bonesman alumnus. A loyal example of Skull and Bones." Cyril Cartwrights' voice dwindled as he raised his glass. "Join me in welcoming Percival Phineas Maxwell as our newest board member to the Council."

Rapturous shouts of approval were heard from every corner of the room. The revelry of inebriated chatter became overwhelming. Sweaty bodies bumped into Manon as members showed their camaraderie towards Etienne, congratulating him on his brother's succession. Manon pushed her way past the clammy bodies, she could no longer stand the uneasiness in the liminal, windowless space.

Manon hastened her way outside of the tomb, the cold breeze stung her balmy face as she exited, disregarding any feeling. She perched herself on the steps of the tomb.

There was an unusual rustling of leaves coming from the bushes a few meters away from her. Ragged breathing soon followed. Taking a look, Manon discovered Mylo Mitropoulos wiping bile from his lips while staring at his red wine-stained vomit. Manon wrinkled her nose in disgust. 'typical Mylo behavior'  she thought to herself.

"Miss..." A deep gruff voice called from behind Manon, causing her to jolt around in panic.

"Jesus, Tommy! Announce yourself next time." Manon uttered in annoyance. 

Tommy was a towering, bald, heavy-set man. He was a watchman of the Skull and Bones tomb. Manon had taken a liking towards him when she joined the society her junior year. Tommy was the only watchman Manon could trust. 

"I'm sorry, Miss... but you're wanted back inside."

Manon sauntered back into a candle-lit Parlor, now filled with unidentifiable hooded cloaked figures. Her lonesome black cloak awaited her on the chair between Percival and Cyril Cartwright.

Whispers erupted simultaneously as an unfamiliar individual conversed with Mylo outside the threshold of the sanctum sanctorum. Did this mysterious individual follow Mylo into the tomb? No one was permitted access to the tomb unless you were a member or invited guest. The unknown figure had her back towards Manon, shrugging her broad shoulders in uncertainty and flailing her hands with frustration. A watchman was quick to spot the unwelcome visitor and arose to his feet. Percival held his hand up signaling the watchman to stand down. Mylo pointed in Manon's direction. The girl heeded his signing- exchanging a glimpse at Percival. Mylo guided the strayed girl to a seating area and joined the others in Parlor 322.

The walls echoed with hurried pitter-patters from Mylo's loafers. Mylo wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead as he paused to collect himself before entering the silent parlor and drawing the heavy wooden doors closed behind him. Manon kept her eyes fixated on Mylo as he hastily made his way towards Percival. He whispered something into Percival's ear. Manon tried her best to eavesdrop but couldn't decipher any words- Percival's face was expressionless. Percy shook hands with Mylo then turned his attention towards Cyril Cartwright.

"Let us begin." A strong voice called out.

The whispers of the parlor were replaced with the sound of chairs scraping against the wooden floor as the assembly of cloaked Bonesmen rose to their feet and recited:

"Yale ...

Oh let us strive that ever we

May let these words our watchword be:

Where'er upon life's sea we sail:

For God, for Country, and for Yale!"

Cyril Cartwright held up a skull that was used as a makeshift chalice and recited:

"Alive as you but without breath,

as cold in my life as in my death;

mortui vivos docent."

'Mortui vivos docent- The dead teach the living.' Manon mimicked Cyril, rolling her eyes under her hooked cloak. She watched as Cyril raised the skull to his lips and drank. Manon felt nauseated. She observed the skull being passed from Bonesman to Bonesman. Thinking about drinking out of that decrepit thing sent shivers down her spine. Manon closed her eyes tight and held her breath when it was her turn to drink from it.

"Bring us a prize from the Scavenge and you shall be rewarded. " Archibald Pitrovsky proclaimed to the assembly.

That was the cue for members to remove their cloaks and saunter off to scavenge.

"Goodness, slow down there," Percival gawked as he watched Manon chug half a bottle of wine.

"You want me to perform appropriately in the scavenge tonight, don't you?" Manon scoffed at him, using the back of her palm to wipe the wine dribble off her chin. She slammed the empty wine bottle down with such force, the bottle shattered. Sending shards of glass all over the table.

Manon stormed off. Her breathing was labored. She passed the strange girl in haste. Only catching a glimpse of her brunette hair. Manon was blinded with rage, the girl's face was nothing but a blur to her.