by GR Griffin
They passed the beds, the chairs and the monsters relaxed on them, and reached the desk. It was short enough for Fleck to rest their chin on the granite top, and that was what they did, lacking the energy to keep themself upright on their legs alone. They waited, drawing their focus to the monitor and the framework of keys. Some held old, brass keys and some held new, fancy cards.
It did not take long for a dog monster with white and grey fur wearing a black dress vest to wander out and take notice of the child. "Shouldn't you be with your mommy and daddy, kid?"
Oh goodness, how they wished they were, Fleck thought. Diving into their determination, they fished the card out and demanded the cheapest room available. They were willing to sleep on a bare branch if they had to.
"Of course," the receptionist said as he turned and plucked a random key from the rack. "We have short stay rooms available in… wait…" Suddenly, there was a hold up. He stood motionless for a couple of seconds, eyes glazed and dull on the child, trying their already non-existent patience. "Hold on a sec…"
The dog receptionist pulled open a draw beneath his monitor, looked inside for a moment and then reached in and got a calculator. After a few seconds and a few button taps, he nodded and dropped the calculator back where he got it.
"Congratulations!" he said rather suddenly, jolting a speck of life into Fleck's body. "I've just checked our records and it turns out… you're our one-hundred-thousandth guest!" The draw closed with a muted click.
The receptionist placed the dime-a-dozen key back in its place then retreated hastily into the backroom, reappearing ten seconds later with a fancy crimson cardkey in his paw. "To mark such a tremendous occasion, Sky Heights rewards you with a stay in our luxurious, first-class penthouse suite" – he paused, building the tension into his next words – "for free!"
"Not only is the room free, but with this key, all the services we provide. This includes in-room dining, laundry, movie rental, gymnasium access, swimming pool, sauna, breakfast, lunch, dinner, and the rest will be listed on a leaflet in your room." He offered the lucky winner the key. "I can see that you're tired so I won't delay you any longer. The elevator's right over there – just scan your card when you're inside and it'll take you all the way to the top floor. Have a wonderful stay, you lucky thing you!"
Wait a minute, this all sounds too good to be true. Nobody is this generous, even on milestones. This has got to be some kind of trap. Keep your first class penthouse card. I'm leaving! This is what the rational side of Fleck's brain would have said had it not be deactivated to keep the rest going. Since they weren't using that side, the other side took the cardkey without question and headed for the elevator, eager for some rest.
The monster next in line, a pear with four legs to two tentacles for arms, took notice. "That kid won a stay in the penthouse?" He rushed up to the desk, leaving his bag a metre behind. "What do I get for being customer number one-hundred-thousand-and-one?"
The receptionist eyed the monster and grinned. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a tissue, dangling it with the thumb and index finger. "You can have this handkerchief to dry your tears with," he said. "It's only been used once." The late guest dropped his head and sighed. Ordinary room for him.
After reverting back to his professional manner, the receptionist took the customer's reservation, keeping the child with the striped shirt in their peripheral vision. After missing it the first time, Fleck pushed the button and the doors parted immediately with a ding. Inside, they quickly figured out where to swipe their card.
The moment those doors shut, the dog rushed over and stretched his snout through the doorframe leading to the backroom. "Vana," he called out, "come here quick!"
His line manager, Vana, a small, silver-furred monster with a big attitude, stepped from her office, noticeably irritated. "What is it now, Chien?"
He continued talking as she neared the front desk. "That last guest I checked in just now?" Chien led her over to the draw and pulled it open once more. Inside, beneath the pocket-sized calculator, lay a slightly crumpled wanted poster of a human named Fleck. "It was them," he said, pulling it out.
She turned from the poster back to Chien. "You're certain?"
Chien nodded. "Absolutely."
"What did you do?"
"I gave them the key to the penthouse," Chien said with a grin. "They're heading up there now."
Line Manager Vana nodded. "Good. Good work. Get the surveillance system in that room up and running. Don't let them out of your sight for a second. I'll contact the military."
* * *
With the card's insertion and removal from the slot, the penthouse door lock snapped. Fleck pushed it open to a black room with a clean, neutral smell. At first, they saw nothing but darkness and dim outlines within before a crack in the darkness emerged above, casting three rectangles of light from the ceiling and across the floor. The gaps grew larger and larger, transforming the interior from black to grey until the window shutters hiccupped upon reaching their fullest. A sweet three-piece suite of plump white cushions and frames of rich wood lay facing a massive television screen that sparked to life at Fleck's arrival. A news channel from Earth came on, with the top story being the President's birthday and the candle on his birthday cake being Pyrope.
From the balcony, the whole of the Outerworld could be seen. The Plain-plain looked a million miles away and Ice Island appeared so scenic and majestic in nature, or magic in this land's case. To think that they were on the Plain-plain a few short hours ago.
A door frame right from the living room led to the bedroom, where the glorious, king-sized bed would make the red one back in the MTT resort green with envy. The skylights above would allow whoever was under the sheets to drift away to the sight of stars. This place was luxury incarnated. Fleck would have jumped on it right there and then, but they were both hungry and still twitching from surplus adrenaline.
There was a kitchen attached to the living room, complete with an oven, toaster, double fridge with ice dispenser, and a breakfast bar. They opened the refrigerator and found it full of food. Fleck wasted no time in making the thickest sandwich imaginable, stacking more than their tiny mouth could fit, washing it down with a bottle of water and half a tub of strawberry ripple ice-cream.
With their belly stuffed, they walked through the next door and found the bathroom. The bathtub was a hot tub big enough for four, and pilled in the corners with a massive selection of salts, shampoos, lotions, oils, gels, balms, salves, creams, ointments and scrubs under a rainbow of colours. White towels and white bathrobes were neatly rolled and stored on square shelves under the sink. The three lights above reflected softly off the mirror, reacting to the beige tiles, turning the air gold.
Fleck noticed a large dumbwaiter entrance beside the tub. A sign beside it explained that it was the laundry service chute. Place your dirty clothes inside and press the button to send it down. It would then be washed, ironed, pressed, and delivered back within the hour.
Eventually, Fleck was soaking away in the tub, up to their shoulders in bubbles and warm water infused with a little bit of every oil available. Their stinking clothes, including their socks and boots, were the launderette's problem now, having been send down the chute. The warm water flowed and churned around their tired, bruised body, stimulating the nerves and muscles, ironing out the aches and pains. Fleck was in heaven, high enough to actually be there. Before getting out, Fleck plugged their nose, closed their eyes, and submerged themself.
Fleck exited the steaming bathroom wearing a towel and a bathrobe, holding the front an inch off the ground. They expelled a big yawn, eyelids drooping. The unbreakable longing for sleep pulled them to the bedroom. A little nap would not hurt.
They crawled onto the bouncy mattress and thick, cloudy sheets, choosing not to pull them up unless they wanted to get lost under them, and plopped themself down in the centre. The skylight tinted on its own as if it somehow knew that someone was there and shielded Fleck from th
e sun. Fleck got comfortable, resting their still damp hair against the pillow, contemplating that they've never seen stars in the daytime be—
Out like a light.
* * *
"That's them," the Sergeant confirmed, staring at the figure in the black and white monitor. "That's definitely them."
The Sergeant, Receptionist Chien and Line Manager Vana observed the displays. In the penthouse suite, six cameras had been hidden within, a little something set up during the civil war and left to collect dust until now. Chien had watched the human's every move, from entering to checking out the place to grabbing a bit to eat – not while they were in the bathroom, he afforded them their privacy – and to the bed where they had not moved for the past half hour.
He and his men had followed several eye witness accounts across town concerning a kid who fit the description of the one who escaped Highkeep Enclave, leading from one place to the next, ending in the hotel they were currently in and him looking at the target from behind a camera.
Just watching the child slumber pulled at the Sergeant's eyelids. Throughout the night, he was among the many soldiers who worked to distribute those wanted posters around the Forest. After receiving word of the target's movements, they were ordered to remove all traces of the posters from the public eye in half the time. This order came as disheartening, for understandable reasons. The men and women had spent all night sweating under their armour to complete an island-sized job without rest only to then have to undo most of it. Taking the posters down was a lot easier though, and disposing them was even more so – they tossed them down into the forest abyss.
As he stared at the sitting duck of a target, it appeared that all that toil was about to harvest fruit.
"That's a relief," Chien sighed, leaning back in his adjustable chair, a half-eaten dog treat dangling from his lips. "I've been sat here for the most part of an hour, afraid that they might bail before you got here. And all this dust does nothing for my allergies."
"We really wished you'd arrived sooner," Vana seconded.
"Hey," the Sergeant retorted, "is it my fault you decided to build your hotel on top of eight flights of god-dang ramps?"
Vana dodged that remark and cut straight to the chase. "Are you going to arrest that thing or not?"
The Sarge pursed his lips. "Yes, yes," he assured, tiredly. He had ten troops waiting outside. "Just get us up there and we'll handle the rest."
Chien mouthed his treat before fumbling in his vest. "I'll got the master elevator card right here," he muffled, pulling it out.
* * *
Dark… Pitch black… Gloomy… All obscured… Every step betrays Fleck… uneven… loose… Light shines the way… but to where…?
Weightless… Floating… Moving so fast, yet doing so little… Like they were flying… Things pass to the left… Things pass to the right… There is an urgency around… Need to hurry… Need to get somewhere… Before it's too late…
Wet… Soaking… Dripping… Water pouring down… Grey sky… Barren land… Their foe stood above… a trident in strong hands… Prongs aimed squarely at them…
It came down on Fleck's chest…
* * *
Ding!
The elevator doors parted on the penthouse level and out stepped Vana, the Sergeant, and four foot soldiers. Six monsters was the maximum weight limit. The troops below were told to spread out, with two guarding the entrance, two outside, and two around the back, just in case the target caught on to the trap. The net was closing in. Soon, the child would be in their custody.
"It's this way," the line manager whispered, stepping forward to the single door within the enclosed hall. "Here it is."
"Much appreciated, citizen," the Sergeant said with a tone that clued his sarcasm. "We never would've found it on our own." With a two-fingered point forward, he tossed orders at his men. "Form up."
As instructed, the monsters in armour took positions at both sides of the door, two at each side. Vana shuffled past them to the back, making the least amount of noise as possible. Everyone tried to be quiet, but the layer of metal around their joints did not make the process easy.
In her possession, Vana had a walkie-talkie. "Chien," he said quietly into the mouthpiece, "is the human still there?"
All the way on the theoretical ground floor, Chien remained plastered to the screen. "Yes," he answered. Before him, in fuzzy black and white, Fleck was horizontal on the bed, still basking in sweet slumber. The human had no idea what was about to hit them. "Still sleeping like a baby. You're good to go."
"Got it. Vana out," she responded before easing her thumb off the button, then addressed the Sergeant. "The human is still asleep in the bedroom. It's through this door and right into the next room."
"Thanks again," the Sergeant acknowledged, this time genuinely. He had, in hand, a card for the door. "On three…"
Nonverbally, Sarge hovered the card before reader built into the penthouse entrance, keeping it level with the slot. He held three fingers up in his other hand.
He inserted the card slowly and bent the ring finger, leaving the index and middle finger extended.
Retracted the key, the brief click on the lock disengaging gave away their position. Only the index remained, pointing toward the ceiling.
The Sergeant clutched the hand, pulled down and threw his entire body into it, bursting it open. The time for subtlety passed in an instant and the five solders rushed to the right, straight into the bedroom.
Vana stepped through the threshold gingerly, inspecting the penthouse as the tumbling sounded from the bedroom. A plate covered with crumbs and leftover fillings and an empty water bottle lay on the breakfast bar. The bath had been used and so did all the oils and lotions. Everywhere else lay untouched. In all her years of service, criminals had done many a deed to her rooms, from deliberate damage to illegal activities to the accidental bed wetting. The mess was minimal, thankfully. No doubt she could clean this room and have it ready for the next guest.
From the doorway, the Sergeant appeared. A dour expression smeared under his helmet. "Ma'am," he said. "There's no one in here."
The line manager's eyebrows snapped up. "What?" She rushed to the door and looked at the bed, brushing past the Sergeant in the process. Instead of finding a human child asleep on it, they saw nothing. The white sheets were untouched; nobody had been in here for days from the looks of it. In light of this revelation, she swung her communicative device to her mouth and thumbed the button. "Chien, where did they go?"
After a second, the receiver crackled. "What do you mean?" Chien asked, sounding confused. "Why haven't you entered yet?"
"The human isn't here! The human is gone!" Vana screeched down the walkie-talkie. "Where did they go?" The Sergeant and the units under his command stood in silence; the resentment written in the superior's face and twitching fingers.
"Gone?" Chien repeated. "But… on the screen the human is still sleeping. Did you enter the right penthouse?"
"The right pent—? How many penthouses do you think we have?"
"Well, that doesn't matter because the human – wait!"
Vana held her tongue, both bewildered and furious at the same time.
Chien's voice came alive in the room. "I… I don't know what just happened. There was static on the screen and then… they were gone… and I can see you guys now."
"What happened, Chien?" Vana breathed down the piece.
Silence followed for a moment before a response came from the receptionist. "…I think someone sabotaged the video feed…"
"Sabotaged?" Vana said. "Who could've done that? And how?"
* * *
Two minutes earlier, Fleck jerked awake before the trident stabbed their sternum. More visions of things to come, and they did not like the look of any of it.
They wondered how long there were out. The muted sun, budged over by a few inches, suggested about half an hour, maybe even a full hour. Nonetheless, their eyelids felt much lighter and their tho
ughts free of fogginess. The aches were still present, but more bearable than before. Ready and eager to continue their hunt, they stretched their limbs to—
Their arms got two inches off the mattress before they stopped with a metallic click. They tried again, but something was keeping them down. Fleck shot their shocked gaze toward their body and found iron shackles around each wrist and ankle, attached to chains that stretched from fresh holes in the sheets. A large chain was wound tightly around their torso; breathing became harder upon noticing it. Horrified, Fleck pulled against their bonds to no success. They were chained to a bed! Fleck may have been flirtatious, but not that flirtatious.
The worst case scenario came first: this was a trap, the one they so obviously walked into with disregard. Something was about to happen, or someone was about to appear, and Fleck would be defenceless for whatever was planned. The thought made them struggle with greater ferocity, pulling so hard that their hands and feet might pop off.
"Please do not fight with the restraints." an automated, electronic female voice suddenly spoke from the headrest. "They are there for your safety."
Without warning, their entire back wall shifted and rotated anticlockwise. Fleck could do nothing but watch as the bed turned with it toward what was hidden behind. Fleck glanced to the left and saw the gap leading to a dark tunnel illuminated by a blinking red light. The bed completed half a rotation, the wall shut behind them, and then they were within this new section that was dark, cool, and tasted of this strange concoction of sawdust and oil. To think that this was here all along…
Crunching gears resounded down the shaft, however far down it went. After a loud clunk, the bed crept downwards at a foot a second, dropping bit by bit from their original spot.
Fleck took deep breaths of the stale, industrial grade air, affirming to themself that they were not going to die. Everything was going to be alright. Cold liquid trickled on their brow, which could have been sweat or water from their bath.
