Standing alone in the street alley, Ken continues to watch. Observing the staff closely, he finds that the hotel staff work closely with computers. To access their database, he will need some help. He quickly pulls out a backup burner phone he had on him and dials for Gusto’s Toy Emporium. Looking around while the phone connects, he checks that no one is nearby.

  “Good evening. This is Gusto’s Toy Emporium. You are speaking to Celia. How may I help?”

  “Hi, it’s Ken. I need you-know-who’s help with something.”

  “Oh, Ken. It's good to hear from you. Sure thing, I will put you through immediately.” She replies in kindness. Without notice, she instantly pushes his call to another line, connecting to Igor.

  “Hello. Igor speaking.”

  “Hey. It’s Ken. I need your help with something?”

  “Hey, Ken. Not even a hi or good evening, how are you?” Igor says jokingly.

  “Sorry about that. It has been a long night, day…-Whatever,” He rubs his eyes before continuing, “I need to get info on where the Grey Twins are staying. More specifically, their room number. Could you help?”

  “Sure thing, I guess. But what do you need this information for?” Igor asks as he audibly types on his computer. Before Ken can reply, Igor interrupts, “Oh, and just to make it easier, where are they staying?”

  “Okay, first, I saw them walk into the Cloudy River hotel with the target. Secondly, the target is with them for some reason. I saw Sora Yamamoto walk in with him; it looks like they're on friendly terms.”

  “Oh, crap! What are you going to do now?” He says in surprise as he continues typing, “Getting to the target means getting through them, and from the stories I heard, you better pray that Sorais is the one that finds you. Gearfried doesn't do half-measures like him. Oh, a moment.”

  The phone is suddenly put on hold. Igor is probably speaking to his contacts or another client. While he waits, Ken glances at the hotel entrance, thinking about his next move. His thoughts are interrupted as Igor returns to the call, “Okay. Some good news and some bad news.”

  “What’s the situation?”

  “Good news, my contact could access their computers and narrow down the rooms. The bad news is that they used pseudonyms, and there is no telling which are fake and which aren’t.”

  “That’s fine, I’ll start from the top of the hotel and work my way down as usual. I’m guessing they are the type to not skimp on luxury, so expensive rooms first.”

  “Good to hear you have a plan, but I wasn’t done. A new bounty was posted on the net, the Ascenders want your head.”

  Hearing this, Ken feels his heart tighten, suddenly finding it harder to breathe. Regaining his composure, he responds, “How…How did they find me? I was careful.”

  “They didn’t say on the bounty, but be careful. The Ascenders have been a bit sneakier nowadays.” He pauses before continuing, “Look, I’ll need you to avoid the workshop until he is handled. For now, I’ll try to support you via our usual drops and protocols. I can’t afford to get Valeria or Celia mixed up in this. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. I understand.”

  “Thank you. For the hotel info, I’m sending the info via an envelope. Check the one near Starbright Cafe on Stack Avenue. Should be there in 50. Should be close to you.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate the help on this.”

  “Don’t mention it. Just be careful of people smiling a little too much.”

  The call cuts and Ken places the burner in his pocket. He looks up and revisits what happened after he killed Markov.

  Okay. I washed my hands after. I washed my hands and threw the corkscrew…the corkscrew…damn it! Don’t tell me. He quickly checked his trench coat pockets and poked himself with a sharp object. His heart pauses and freezes in fear. No…

  He quickly pulls out the sharp object from his pocket to discover it's the corkscrew.

  NO!

  He throws it on the floor, and the sudden panic of carrying a murder weapon on him the entire time suddenly hits him. His breath becomes ragged as he tries to calm down.

  Wait, no…no. They couldn’t have found me from this. I still have the weapon, so they couldn't find prints. Cameras. Cameras. No, I checked the hallways, and Senzo always makes sure to have someone wipe them. He suddenly calms down, placing the corkscrew back in his pocket, and realizes something. Byron…He must have sold me out.

  Recollecting himself again, he understands that playing along with Byron is no longer going to work. He looks at his watch. It’s 01:32 am, and the envelope will most likely reach the dead drop at 2:20 am, 2:30 am to give the delivery some space. The last thing he needs is to come face-to-face with them. No telling who is after him. All he has to do now is wait for the envelope to arrive. H

  The next hour passes slowly. There has not been much activity at the hotel entrance, save for a few people and couples returning from an adventurous night out. Ken constantly checks his watch in the hopes it will make time go faster, alas, he fails with each attempt. For a couple of minutes, he would fidget with the multi-tool, but he mainly struggled to fight off his sleep. Ignoring the sweet lullabies. To keep himself awake, he would walk around, but not too far nor anywhere too public. He would also do some light exercise, albeit it was effective to some degree.

  02:31 am Finally, the time arrived. Before leaving the alley, he quickly checks for any curious onlookers. The streets are quiet, and the only light is coming from the streetlights. Confirming he is free of an audience, he carefully makes his way to the dead drop. If I remember correctly, Starbright stacks…tracks… innn… packs…I think. No, no, it was track packs. The sleep deprivation is starting to affect the man. He has eluded sleep for the past couple of days and tried to stave it off with naps. This wasn’t the first time he experienced this, nor the last. He knows that he only has a day or two at best before the hallucinations start kicking in, and if not that first, he will collapse from exhaustion. With the Ascenders after him, he will need to hide. Maybe I could rest at the Cloudy River. Get a room and blockade the doors, windows-… He lost his train of thought.

  Shaking the sleep off, he focuses on the dead drop. The dead drop was near the Packed Tracks music store. He has been in the store a couple of times to browse their collections and listen to their demos. He even bought a music player. That music player, that had some nice music…Stella and the Roses. They were nice. Where did I place that thing? His mind veers off again. This is why he hated stakeouts. If he wasn’t busy, the side effects of sleep would hit harder and quicker, especially during these hours.

  The lead singer was pretty cool. Aren't they playing here tonight? The lyrics…the lyrics were weird and depressing, yet the tone had soul and energy. But there was something about the song…Existence is but a shallow memory… but…even if it hurts… He regains focus as he sees the bright lights of the store, the neon burning his retinas.

  On special occasions, the store would host mini concerts inside; luckily, most of the patrons are inside tonight. He walks to the side of the entrance and feels the brick wall, focusing on the bricks. He finally touches a loose one. Looking around to ensure he is alone, he pulls it out quickly and is too slow to catch the envelope falling out.

  He replaces the brick and picks up the envelope, placing it inside his breast pocket. He lets out a long yawn as he walks out of the alley. As he leaves, a large crowd exits the venue, and he takes cover.

  He quickly glances at his watch and comes to a hasty decision. Well, if I am going to die soon, I would at least like to meet them face-to-face. Going against his better judgment, he quietly enters the store and sneaks past the crowd, bumping into strangers as he passes by. He walks past the bouncer, who is too infatuated with some of the ladies nearby to notice him, giving him a way in. Walking down the stairs, he reaches the venue. Most of the crowd has already left, except for a few who want to meet the band. Unfortunately, his eyes are struggling to adjust to the lights, but he can make out some figures in the distance speaking. He slowly walks toward them.

  “Hey, are you alright?” A voice asks as he slowly approaches. Ken can't differentiate; his eyes aren't adjusting to the light fast enough. To protect his eyes, he looks to the floor.

  What am I even doing…?

  “What are you doing, little boy?” A gruff voice says.

  Ken recognizes the voice of Salomin and looks up in fear. He heard the man, but he was nowhere in sight.

  Hallucinations? Damn it… I thought it would come later. How…many days…5…no, 7…was it 8? Did I miscount… I can't keep this up…

  As he thinks to himself, he barely registers the voices in the background. The stimulation from his ever-present danger finally wore off; every day had been a fight, and his mind finally gave in. A break would be nice. His legs begin to drag behind him, and his body feels heavier. What should I say when I see the band? Maybe I could ask for a signature…no, they would be a trail for…for who…Byron?

  “My, my…you will sell for a lot.” He hears Salomins' voice smugly remark, but he is unable to react, his body slowly shutting down.

  “You're still our property,” Byron's voice rings in his head, “you live when we tell you to…”

  “...and die when you need me to,” Ken says aloud, not aware that someone is holding him on the shoulder, waving their hand in his face.

  “What is-...” As the stranger speaks, he is no longer able to comprehend the stranger's words, nor is he aware of their existence.

  He remembers a door in a dark hallway and hears a young boy screaming for help behind a door. Refusing to remember further, his senses come back momentarily, “NO, LEAVE ME-”

  He is unable to retain consciousness further and slips back into sleep; his mind is no longer able to retain lucidity.

  He sees a mirror with himself staring back, “We won’t let them get away.” The reflection's face becomes angrier as the hand reaches for him and the mirror cracks, “WE WILL STOP AT NOTHING, EVEN IF WE FADE AWAY IN THE PROCESS!” He wakes up momentarily, but he can no longer comprehend what is happening around him.

  Right, my father…why do I want to kill him again…

  His memories are fading, and he is losing himself. No, he was already lost; this was just him trying to pull himself back together.

  He suddenly wakes from an unfamiliar bed, and the afternoon sun shines on him. He quickly looks around and sees a woman with black hair and pink highlights reading a comic on a beanbag chair. To his side is his trench coat and his tools neatly laid out on the nightstand to his right, Igor’s multi-tool awaiting its master.

  How long was I out? That doesn’t matter, I need to get out.

  Looking at the stranger again, she is unaware he is awake.

  Is she with Baltro? No, I wouldn’t be here if she were.

  Before he makes his move, he can’t help but survey it. It is messy with crumpled-up papers haphazardly lying around the bin on the wooden floor, and a guitar is lying awkwardly on the electronic piano as if it were placed there out of frustration. Looking at the walls, it's covered with pictures of people and comic posters, some of which Ken even recognized. He slowly moves over to reach his multi-tool lying on the nightstand, but is immediately stopped by the sound of the handcuffs placed around his right arm.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Damn it!” He accidentally curses aloud.

  The girl quickly looks up in surprise and throws her comic to the side, standing up and cautiously saying, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down there, zombie man.” She says to Ken, trying to slowly approach him as if he were a cornered animal.

  Seeing that the jig was up, Ken made a quick maneuver and hooked the tool with his left middle finger, pulling it toward him. He fidgets with it near his handcuffs, trying to use it to free himself.

  He quickly glances at her. From her looks, he notices her hair is tied back in a ponytail, clearly holding back the chaos of her curly hair. She wore dark baggy clothes, her skin more pale in some spots than others, probably residue from makeup. From Ken’s quick assessment, he figures she won’t be much of a threat.

  “GUYS, A LITTLE HELP UP HERE!” She shouts before returning to calming him down, “It’s okay, we are not going to hurt you, and I really don’t want to have to calm you down.”

  How many times have I heard that before?

  Ignoring the girl's pleas, he continues fidgeting. In his mild panic, he accidentally activates one of the hidden mechanics of the tool and a flame shoots from the tool. “DAMN IT, IGOR! WHY WOULD I NEED A FLAMETHROWER?!” He curses as he throws it to the side after he burns his leg.

  A burly man and an older-looking woman burst into the room. The man wore a tank top with an unbuttoned shirt over it, the laidback look further supported by his cargo pants. Glasses rest upon his short, golden hair, strongly contrasting his dark complexion. The woman had piercings on her lips and ears that complemented the tattoos along her arms. Her dark shirt, printed with a fading rose design, matched her ripped jeans. Her slightly pale skin made the dark elements of her look stand out even more. They surround him and try to calm him down.

  After the commotion, the room goes silent. Knowing he will have to talk his way out of this, he tries to gain control over the situation, “Where am I and how long have I been out?”

  The trio quickly looks at each other, unsure of what to say. After a brief moment, the woman in the middle speaks, “Well…sir…to answer your first question, you are at my home. Me…Stella. The lead singer…”

  “Really?” The man adds, only for the woman next to him to push her shoulder into his chest.

  “Ahem, as I was saying…I am Stella, this is Bristol, and this is Melanie.”

  Huh, not used to this luck. But how did these people find me?

  “To answer your next question. You collapsed at the Packed Tracks concert hall. You were really out of it, just walked towards us, and collapsed.’ She quickly glances at his chained arm and has a slight look of guilt on her face, “Sorry about the handcuffs, we didn’t want to risk bringing home a serial killer, or one of those cult people. Oh, sorry, uhm, to answer again, I think you have been asleep for about…” She looks towards Melanie and Bristol for help.

  “For about 13 hours,” Melanie promptly answers.

  “Packed Tracks…?” Ken replies confusedly.

  What was I doing at Packed Tracks? Ugh, I am forgetting something important. I was waiting at the Clo-

  Suddenly remembering his objective, he remembers everything that happened the previous night.

  “Damn it,” He says, realizing he is racing against the clock, “Look, thanks for the help, but could you free my hand. I need to attend to something urgent, and I will pay you back later.”

  “Going a little fast there, buddy,” Bristol interrupts, “We also have some questions for you.” After saying that, he briefly leaves the room and returns with a plastic bag and Igor’s envelope. “We found these on you. As much as I'd like to call the orderlies on you, this one, “ gesturing to Stella, “-thought we should hear you out first. So explain.”

  Tch, now I have more loose ends.

  “Okay, look. I work in a butchery and we kill our livestock. The gun ran out of bullets, so we had to do things the old-fashioned way. That envelope, I forgot to hand it in for hotel reservations for our distributor, so to make sure our clients received it in time, I rushed out with the corkscrew,” Ken finished. He was used to lying under pressure. It came as naturally as breathing for him, although even he was impressed by the caliber of his creativity.

  “Really, you think we are going to-” Bristol is interrupted as Stella walks past him and unlocks his handcuffs. “Hey, what the hell are you doing?!” he shouts, confused.

  “I'm letting him go, duh,” She dismissively replies. She walks back to Bristol and takes the envelope and bag from his hands.

  “Stel, you can't be serious?!” Melanie interjects, surprised by her actions, “This dude is clearly bad news!”

  Confused as they are, he hesitantly puts on his jacket, watching the chaos unfold before him. Ignoring her friend's words, Stella turns to him and presents him with his stuff. “You aren't such a bad person, you know?”

  “Oh my God, she is romanticizing things again!” Melanie frustratedly groans in the back.

  Picking up his Multi-tool and taking the items from her hands, he can only say, “What do you know?”

  She pulls up to his ear and whispers, “You talk a lot in your sleep.”

  As she pulls back, he stares into her eyes and can see pity them. He hated it.

  Stepping back from her, he glances at the stoic pair glaring at him. Unsure what to make of it, he gives a quick nod and leaves the room. Surprisingly, no one stopped him. He walked toward the living room. Not wanting to push his luck, he walks towards what seems to be the front door.

  Before opening the door, he checks that he hasn't lost anything. Corkscrew. Check. Envelope. Check. Multi-tool. Check. Lighter. Check. Picklock. Check. Wallet. Check. Burner. Burner? He quickly pats himself again to check if he overlooked it. Confirming it's not on him, he quickly walks back to the room. There, he finds the pair arguing with Stella over her recent actions.

  “He could have been a serial killer, and we let him go?!” Bristol says to Stella.

  “If he were, I would already be dead, wouldn't I?” Stella responds, holding her ground.

  “That’s not what he meant, Stella. This guy came into our venue, out of his mind with a corkscrew covered in blood and spoke about death,” Melanie argues, anger evident in her tone.

  “I don't want to hear it, Mel,” Stella replies as she looks up, “My gut feeling said he could be trusted. And how many times has my gut failed us?”

  “Miracle road,” They both reply.

  “Okay, that was one bad call, but-” She is interrupted as she notices Ken standing by the doorway. The other two turn to see him as we do.

  “What?” Bristol asks, surprised Ken hasn't left yet.

  “Did you take my phone?” Ken asks.

  They both look to Stella, who, without instruction, takes the phone from the table and throws it toward him. Catching it, he takes a step toward the presumed entry, but stops and turns back, feeling it unfair not to say thanks or show gratitude for not leaving him unconscious on the streets.

  “Thanks for helping me,” Ken says, but before he can leave, he is stopped by Stella.

  “You can thank us by telling us what you are planning to do!” She yelled.

  Ken looks at her, surprised, he wasn’t expecting his gratitude to turn into an extortion of information. The woman stood there with a puzzled look on her face, while her comrades' disposition of him hadn’t changed.

  He takes a deep sigh and contemplates leaving immediately. Okay, let's just give them a short story, then leave.

  “Look, I am trying to get out of a bad situation I landed myself in. I can’t tell you too much as I don’t need civilians getting involved in this. After I leave, you don’t have to worry about seeing me again.” Finishing, he avoids looking at them and makes his way to the front door.

  “Wait!” Stella shouts before he can leave.

  Ignore her, we gave her already what she wanted.

  “If you don’t stop, I'm going to call the orderlies!” She shouts as he reaches the door.

  This woman!

  “She isn’t joking, you know. We took a pic while you were asleep,” Melanie shouts in support of Stella.

  Taking a deep breath, he begrudgingly walks back to the room, Bristol and Melanie now have a smug look on their face while Stella remains worried.

  “Okay, what else do you want to know?” Ken asks her, as the others watch Stella in anticipation.

  “Uhhh,” she pauses, as if afraid to say something, ”if you want to talk, I will be here for you.”

  They look at her confused, Ken the most dumbstruck of them.

  This woman is out of her mind!

  “ARE YOU SERIOUS?!” Bristol shouts, his patience finally running out, while Melanie covers her eyes with her palm.

  Unsure of what to make of it, he leaves the trio to argue and heads to the door. Fortunately, he isn't stopped this time around and reaches it. Opening it, he finds himself facing a busy street. He looks back at the house as he closes the door.

  Huh, good noise cancellation. Okay, back on track.

  Before heading onto the streets, he looks at his burner and notices two messages and multiple missed calls. One is from Senzo, while the other is from Byron.

  Strange. They know messages are free leads for the orderlies. Must be urgent.

  Opening Byron's message first, it reads, ‘abandon mission. Come back.”

  Seems I should head back. But why?

  Reading Senzo's after, it contained the following:

  Byron is with Baltro. They are after you. Don't return. Don't trust anyone. I'm sorry.

  After Ken finishes reading, he suddenly feels a bit more alone, but most of all, it feels as if he is being watched.

  Checking his watch, it's not much longer until nighttime. Orienting himself, he makes his way back to the Cloudy River. As he made his way, he kept looking back, expecting someone to be following him. Fortunately, it seems that Baltro has not sent his followers after him. Yet.

  Once he reached the hotel, he walked directly to the receptionist.

  “Good afternoon, sir. How may I assist you?” The receptionist asked with a welcoming smile.

  “Hi. I would like to book a room for tonight only, please.” He pauses, remembering his exhaustion and lack of rest, “Make it two. I would like your third most expensive option if possible.”

  “No problem, sir,” She replies while typing, “Will it only be you tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  Handing her his identification and credit card, he takes a moment to observe the lobby. Compared to the Sand de Royal, the Cloudy River is more humble. Its walls are neutral gray, and its decor is relaxing. Looking off to the far corner, Ken can even make out a restaurant for those staying.

  “Everything seems to be in order, Mr. Jordan. Your room will be number 523 on the 5th floor. As per your request, you will be staying in one of our luxurious Cirrus rooms. The pool area is open from 8 am to 7 pm for families, and from 7 pm, the rain bar will be open by the pool area. We also have other services you can enjoy for a fee. Would you like to hear them?” The receptionist said, handing him his keycard and belongings

  “No, thank you,” Ken says briefly, “That will be all.”

  “You are welcome, sir. If you have any issues, please feel free to speak to us here at reception or use the phone provided in your room. May your worries drift away.”

  Wanting to not linger any further, Ken makes his way to the elevator and presses the button for the fifth floor. Once the elevator arrives, he makes his way to room 523 and enters. The room is quite large with a balcony. In the center is a flat-screen television with a stand beneath it. A small couch faced the TV with a queen-size bed behind it. The bathroom was right off the entrance, but looking inside, it had a luxurious bathtub and a sizable shower. On the balcony was a hammock that was covered in sunlight, inviting him to laze on it all day.

  Latching the door behind him, he quickly searches his room. Although unlikely, his luck had been failing him so far, so it was best not to take any more chances. Finishing the search, he sits on the couch in the center of the room with a heavy sigh.

  I can't keep going like this. Each day is a different issue. I just want to sleep forever… as he sits in his self-pity, Stella flashes across his mind. Someone to talk to, huh? What good will that do me? Couldn't hurt, right? But it's too risky, especially for her. Everyone around me…maybe I'm just meant to be on my own…I've never really belonged, have I? Sold at birth, a price without a number.

  Suddenly coming to, he shakes himself awake and realizes he's wasting time. He pulls out the envelope and takes out the sheet of paper contained within. On it is a list of numbers and names. Scanning through them, the real names from the fake names are indistinguishable from one another. It seems he will have to go door to door to find them.

  Checking his watch, it's 16:38. He will need to rest soon or else risk experiencing what happened earlier. Standing up and doing a light stretch, he makes his way to the door. No time to lose.

  First, let's start on the top floor and speak to the…he takes out and reads the list. The Plambtons…interesting name.

  Using the elevator, he reaches the tenth floor and makes his way to room 1093. Preparing himself and letting a little yawn, he knocks on the door. After a couple of seconds, a middle-aged woman with a loud dress and short hair opens the door.

  “Who is it?!” A man's voice shouted in the back before she could open her mouth.

  “I don't know, just some man!” She yells, looking back at him immediately, “Hi, do you need something from us?”

  “Uhm, sorry, no. Seems I had the wrong room,” Ken quickly says with a light chuckle, giving a slight bow and walking away. After hearing the door slam behind him, he takes a deep breath and returns to the envelope, moving on to the next one.

  Next one, Mr Yarlo of room 1020.

  Making his way down the hallway, he reaches the door of Mr. Yarlo. Knocking on the door, there is no response. After a couple more tries, it is evident that he is not here.

  Guess I’ll come back later. Pulling out the list again, he looks at the next name on the list. Okay, next is…the Daramotos in room 83-…Hold up.