Long Fall Ski Club

It is a skin-tinglingly cold day in the cold Alps of Andorra, smooth Jazz plays inside a quaint little abode in the mountains. The Long Fall Ski Club - Often mistakenly called the Long Ski Fall Club, is a luxuriously toasty little Chalet that elites retired to after sifting through the ski-fields. It's renowned for an exquisite little cocktail bar where everyone congregates, where men seeked a trophy wife to take home and consummate. This place is decadent, depraved and dispicable, and it's only saving grave is the heated floor and it's eye-catching crown moulding.

On the balcony overlooking French/Spanish/Andorra border is Milton Walker, a son of oil billionaires who made his own fortune selling NFT's of his sextapes for thousands of dollars. With NFT's being a huge craze amongst the children of elites and self-help coaches, Milton saw his opportunity to show him cavorting with Hungarian Sex Symbol Helga Ortolan. Monetising his ability to brag, Milton now has thousands of weirdo's paying for his thinly-veiled attempt to showcase his over-inflated sense of pride, which was spilling over the balcony of his self-image like the impending avalanche that was about to come crashing into the Long Fall Ski Club

'Whoomp, Bang, Tish' was the last thing that many inside the club had heard as thousands of tonnes of snow came barrelling through the Chalet. A shocking site for many in the mining village below, the famed Long Fall Ski Club had been consumed by a barrage of thick snow, almost as if this mountain had swallowed this decadent structure whole to spare the world from having to look at these smug pricks frolicking from above. Search and Rescue teams immediately got to work looking for survivors, but with how rude many of the Chalet's patrons had been, it was somewhat half-hearted and hesitant to say the least...

A few minutes passed, and Milton managed to awaken from the wreck. An eerie silence enveloped his soul as a mass of whiteness - briefly broken by the sight of splintered wood - greeted him as rose out of his slumber. Despite this cataclysmic occurrence, it appeared as if Milton had managed to arise from this relatively unscathed. Beyond a couple of scraps and knocks, Milton seemed just fine, and was just relieved that he wouldn't need to restyle his perm.

As he gathered his bearings and composed himself, he realised that his ordeal was far from over. He knew that there were at least 20 more people in the club at the time of the avalanche. While some were likely dead, he hoped a few could be saved. With little time to waste and less time to cry, he set to work seeing who and what he could find, and the wreckage made hopes of finding survivors slim at best.

He started wading his way through the wreck of the Chalet. Broken glass blocked entryways, splintered lumps of wood pierced the ground and small fires were melting through the seemingly cement-like snow, making the chance for further injury even more probable.

He waded through the wreckage for around 10 minutes, shouting into what seemed like an abyss, hoping to find signs of life on the other side. It all seemed like a futile attempt to salvage something, and with the cold seeping in and Milton wanting a hot shower as soon as possible, he started worrying about his own safety first. With the copious amount of money he'd spent on a pedicure the previous day, he surely didn't want his feet to be ruined by a pesky bout of frostbite.

However, as he was thinking about calling it in and making his way to safety, he heard a faint whispering from a small, cavernous hole in the snow. With his intrigue peaking, he gently stepped towards this noise.

'Is there anybody out there?' a female voice gently whispered. Milton's head shot to his left, where this black hole was. Many would assume that this hole was just symbolic of the personalities of most of the people that had been in the Chalet. However, since Milton thought these people had great personalities, he optimistically figured this could be someone. He stepped towards this hole, the voice repeating the phrase,

'Is there anybody out there?' the voice kept saying, growing louder as Milton stepped closer, as if he was walking into the light and onto death. It was ominous, but he was compelled to at the very least see what was going on.

He reached the cavernous opening, and peered into it to see what had been calling out for him. It was pitch black, but the glimmer of two eyes caught his attention. In his haze, he reached out his hand, hoping to feel the warm embrace of salvation. He would get just that.

A hand grasps to his, and without hesitation of thought, he pulled this person out of the abyss. The heft of his pull knocks him to the ground, but he quickly regrouped as this lady picked him up to hug him

'Oh my god, Thank-you so much sir' said the saved woman, a woman that had a decidedly non-elitist feel about her. Her clothes were somewhat tattered, but it didn't have a sleek velour shine that someone of a more elite cultural persuasion had. He looks down to see an upside down name-tag, reading 'Anita. With a smile on his face, he tells her,

'I'm glad I'm not the only person that survived.' Milton shot her a wink, and she gave him a hug in appreciation. She was a cleaner at the Chalet, and with a large family of 8, she had spent the last several minutes praying for her survival. Milton was a breath of fresh air, and she was incredibly grateful.

He looked out towards the mining village, lights flashing, and it appeared that emergency response was on it's way. Signalling for Anita to follow him, they started making his way down.

However, as he started making his way towards safety, he spotted another person down to his left. She was banked up against a tree, and screaming in agony. Anita tapped him on the shoulder and asked,

'Should we help her?' Milton looked at her, and then looked down at the woman. From a cursory glance, she was an attractive blonde lady, and looked to be in a bit of strife. The answer was simple, he was careening down to save this woman.

Somewhere along the descent, Anita fell into a bit of trouble, specifically, a small sunken hole in the sand. Slipping on the snow, she accidentally fell about 10 feet into the hole, breaking both of her legs, along with the fall. Her banshee like wail rung out, but that didn't cause alarm for Milton. With a hot Swedish woman in his view, he was ready to be her hero.

Despite the screams of Anita ringing out, Milton reached the blonde woman to assess the situation. It wasn't someone he noticed from the Chalet, but that didn't concern him much. Her deep blue eyes caught his gaze, with strikingly more urgency than the pleas of a fallen Anita.

'Hey there, are you ok?' he asked the woman, looking down to see blood soaked clothing.

'No, I think my leg is broken.' Without a moments hesitation, he picked her up and started carrying her towards safety. Like a hero of the night, he led her to safety. Anita's fall and cries didn't perturb him, and with his selfish, vapid nature, he didn't care. He had already written the story in his head. A heroic man saving a damsel in distress, the only two survivors of this tragic avalanche. He would make her his wife, have two little kids, one a tennis player and the other an investment banker. For him, this woman was just someone to be save, but a way to make himself out to be a hero, a cultural figure. Sure, the social cache would be great if he'd save Anita aswell, but with this woman's potential to be a trophy wife, he knew that this was where his bread was buttered.

About half a kilometre later, they reached a rescue team, one that had been trawling up the mountain for survivors. Out of the unsettled mist, he emerged, woman in hand. One search and rescue operative reached out to him and asked,

'Do you know if there are any survivors?'

'Na, just me and this sexy woman.' The woman, despite her pain, smiled, and almost instinctually, she have him a pash that would make the papers the next day. It would be the leading story,

'MILTON WALKER: HERO/FUTURE HUSBAND!' Milton Walker was a hero, and despite leaving Anita for dead and using this disaster to line his pockets with lucrative book deals and speaking tours, he had no qualms. He was a true sociopath, and this disaster was just a way to build his social capital. Despite the loveless marriage and countless cases of infidelity that followed, Milton had become a hero to the ignorant public, and that was the best way to build his brand. NFT sales would shoot through the roof, and luckily for Milton, he would manage to recoup his money before the market crashed 6 months later.

As he was led towards the mining town, he looked to his left, he saw a sign reading 'Long Fall Ski Club: The Pathway to Pure Degeneracy'. In many ways, Milton had achieved this, and with a cocksure smirk on his face, he walked forth towards his own path of vainglory, arm raised and thinking he was the salt of the earth...