This exact time and place is irrelevant. The smell of liquor and tobacco is thick in the air. Chattering voices mix with loud music and clanking glasses, creating an indecipherable drone comparable to that of a hive of bees. The jovial atmosphere is shattered by a sudden wave of flames when cigar ashes catch hold of a paper banner. The room is sent into a frenzy. One by one, brother stampedes brother. Friend tramples friend. there is a race to the only exit...a set of revolving doors. Concerned only for personal welfare, the door james with bodies. The people futily claw and scrape at each other. Flesh burns from the intense heat and fingerprints are engraved into the plexiglass walls that serve as their prison. Their graves.