Heavy Duty Metal Table Novels & Stories

Dominik The Meridian Room is a monument to old money and older sins. Dark oak paneling, velvet drapes the color of dried blood, and chandeliers that cast a golden, forgiving light on the men who run the underworld. There used to be six seats at the High Table. Now, there are five. The chair where Giovanni Armando used to sit has been removed, the gap filled seamlessly as if he never existed. That is how we work. You fall, the water closes over your head, and the sharks keep swimming.

“Enough with the questions now, Spitfire. Time to do as I say if you want me to let her go.” Udora? He’d let her go if I did this? I stared at him and found his expression unwavering. He said he doesn’t lie. I walked tentatively to the table. Feeling the stone on the floor, and the overwhelming heat from the other room blocked from this one. Making it comfortably cool. At least, for now. “Now, face me.” His voice stopped me just next to the table. I realized it was about a foot thick and balanced on one solid pillar which braced the center. There was a huge iron crank on the side of it.

CHAPTER 156: THE HOSTILE TAKEOVER The sound of Dante’s chassis hitting the granite floor wasn’t a biological thud; it was the heavy, structural ring of a three-ton iron casting dropping onto solid bedrock. The vibration traveled up through the soles of my bare feet, shaking the marrow in my shins until the taste of copper in my mouth turned thick and sour. The violet smoke pouring from his pneumatic shoulder joints didn't rise—it hung low over the floor, a heavy, sulfurous fog that smelled of burnt grease and dying batteries.

Suspended forty floors above the rain-slicked, grey concrete streets of Edmonton, the vast space was framed by monolithic panels of triple-glazed structural glass and stark, matte-black steel girders that bisected the view of the skyline like structural blades. A massive, fifteen-foot slab of polished black quartzite served as the central table, its flawless, reflective surface catching the overcast sky outside and turning the entire room into a dark, volcanic mirror. It was an environment designed to intimidate, to reduce complex human lives down to cold, unyielding vectors of capital and institutional power.

GODFATHER'S POV My eyes darted across the room, but my eyes kept coming back to the huge mahogany table in the center ,where the food was placed. The huge mahogany table was one that caught my fancy. Crafted from fine mahogany wood, the table surface was smooth, polished, and its reflecting light showcased its beauty of sturdy, sleek design. I was here again, in alpha Gritus's den. The room was filled with eerie silence—a silence likened to the unknown.

All it’s missing is the stench and the clanging metal doors. But where I’d expect a back wall, it opens up into another room. And this one chills my blood. It’s much larger, industrial-looking, and stark. In the centre is a steel table that looks uncomfortably close to an autopsy slab. Next to it, a water tank. A metal sideboard covered in instruments I don’t want to look at too closely. And in the middle of the concrete floor— A drain. A fucking drain. My eyes lock on something resting on the table and my breath catches.

Thousands of miles away from where Leesa and Rave said their goodbyes to Dominic, five shadowy figures sat in a large, dimly lit room, gathered around a dark, round table at least ten feet in diameter. The table’s smooth surface was fashioned out of a special, highly polished material that looked almost like black glass. Candles flickered in brass sconces on the chamber’s stone walls, but strangely, none of the light reflected off the top of the table. The dark surface seemed to swallow any illumination that struck it. In addition to the five occupied chairs, four more sat vacant.

Nobody went smaller in gambling. So she pulled out her car key and slammed it on the table. “A Porsche Panamera. I just bought it, and it cost over a million. So let’s call it one million flat. You in?” I stared at the keys, eyes glinting, and Taylor smirked knowingly. She covered the keys with her hand. “I’m putting up a million dollars. You’ll have to put up something equal in value.” “Earlier, I won half a million grand, and with my house deed added in, that’s about a million. I’m not taking advantage of you.”

The place where the masks and the coasters originated. In the main room is a lady lying motionlessly on a flat iron table, her skin pallid and cold to the touch. The table is stained with dark, dried blood, and various instruments of torture and dismemberment are scattered haphazardly about the room. The table itself is a grotesque sight, its metallic surface warped and dented from years of use. It is clear that this is no ordinary table, but rather a crude device designed for one purpose: to inflict pain and suffering on its unfortunate occupants.

"Next up, we’ll be auctioning a piece of Starry Metal that weighs up to thousands of kilograms!" "The bidding starts at 800 thousand apocalypse tokens. Each increment should not be less than 100 thousand apocalypse tokens." Starry Metal was the best metal to make military weapons. After the host of the auction had finished talking, a few Genetic Fighters started to bid against each other. "1 million!" "1.1 million!" "1.3 million!" Lucas used his Mind's Eye to look analyze the Starry Metal that was thousands of kilograms. It would not have mattered if he had not look at it, but the sight of it left him stunned.