(Edited with Grammarly on 8/6/2026)
"Soooo…" Willow's voice dragged him out of his slight stupor, drooping eyes snapping open to look through the window and out to the seedy hotel. The natural hubbub of traffic acted as nothing more than a sweet melody to lull him back off into sleep. "Couldn't sleep?"
"No." And that fact could be placed solely at his own feet. Combine his stupid, but required, stunt, Albert had put a lot of effort into this disguise. He shook off the fatigue from his shoulders, taking the time to glance in the mirror once more. The face looking back at him wasn't his own; instead, it was a middle-aged man with heavy wrinkles, a crooked nose, and a rather pointed jawline. Mix that with a head of freshly combed silver-gray hair and heavily bushy eyebrows, he thought it gave him an extremely refined and assured feeling. Especially once he threw in the finely pressed suit, it might've had some permanent stains and wear and tear in some places, but hopefully, no one would be observant enough to take note of those minor details. And normally, he would deem this more than enough cover, but something was missing.
A story. History that this face could be attached to, something that people could allude to.
So to add a little bit more gravitas to his disguise, a pair of light brown eyes, nearly bordering on gold, looked back at him.
"I just had a lot on my mind."
"Hmmm." The woman hummed in agreement, hands beating at her steering wheel to an unknown rhythm. Willow, normally a rather composed person, didn't appear as if she'd gotten much sleep either. With heavy red around her eyes as a pretty clear indication. "Same. Same...What time did you say again?"
"Around noon." He could understand her restlessness; it mirrored his own after all. They'd gotten there around three hours ago and had been waiting ever since. And who would've guessed, watching a building wasn't all that entertaining. Well, maybe it was a bit entertaining to hear Willow point out all the people she knew going in and out of the hotel. But even that lost its charm within the first ten minutes or so. "She'll be getting off a bus around then, and after waiting five minutes, we'll follow her in...Do you think there will be trouble with the Delight Hotel?"
"I wish they would try something." She snorted before baring her pearl whites for the world to see. "But no, they won't cause any issues...But really that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. Look at me."
Hearing how serious she was, Albert did as bid. Locking gazes with dark and steely eyes, that professional mask sliding into place as she tried to glean something from him.
"Before we go in, there's some questions you need to answer. First, do you plan on killing Keegan today?"
He felt that she wasn't just asking to fill the silence between; she was absolutely serious here. Something she wouldn't let him wriggle out of or play his little word games.
"No." He'd spent most of the night tossing and turning over this exact same question, before finally coming up with something closely resembling an answer he could actually live with. "It's not my-"
"I don't need an explanation." Willow forestalled the upcoming tirade with a single raised leather-gloved hand. Probably for the best, as he felt that trying to talk more on that subject would probably lead him to talk himself into doing the exact opposite. "I just need a yes or no for these. Okay? Next question, are you prepared to kill him if it comes down to it?"
"…" Here, Albert dropped his head. He wanted to say yes, wanted to use this surging sense of justice in his chest as a spark to force his mouth to move. But he didn't. His pause was already answer enough. If he was in that scenario now, then he wouldn't even have the time to hesitate or think over his actions. But here? Sitting in the relative safety of Willow's car? He could admit the truth to himself. No matter how bitter it felt. "...No."
It struck at his core then, a spike of that same dread he'd felt from last night. A sense of self-loathing so strong washed over him that he wanted to just crawl into a tiny ball at how pathetic a coward he was being. Did those memories mean nothing to him? Was Malaya's pain not enough to even chip a dent in his own cowardice?
When he first saw Keegan this morning, he could admit something more to himself. In neither of his lives had he truly ever hated someone before. But here in this moment, he hated Keegan. Hated everything about the man. From the way he walked, to the way he talked, to even despising every inanimate object he decided to touch. To the point where just resisting the urge to get out of the car to smash the creep's own had been a massive undertaking.
But despite that hatred, despite how easy it was to imagine himself killing the man in increasing startling clarity, actually crossing that line felt like an impossibility.
He could feel her gaze simmering into the side of his face, weighing his words against some unknown scale. Seconds passed, that silence growing so heavy and oppressive that he kind of expected black fog to begin seeping through the sealed windows.
"I didn't think so." Willow let out a sigh, her shoulders dropping as she looked back to the hotel. He could feel it then, the tension growing; it hadn't just been from him. "Listen, Lovecraft, no one. And I mean no one is really ever prepared for their first kill. A lot of people think they are and will normally lock up when it actually comes knocking. Few people go around planning their first kill; most of the time it's when you don't have a choice. It could be a scuffle, an argument with a spouse, a robbery gone wrong, or maybe you're just trying to protect your own family…If you had lied to me and said you were prepared, I would've handled this situation myself. Consequences be damned. You can never, ever, ever have an armed liar at your back. You'll either wind up getting shot or abandoned when you need them the most."
Albert fell silent at her words. There was wisdom there but also a clearly traumatic story that they both knew she would never tell.
"...Should I leave my gun here then?"
"I think you should." She turned once more, locking gazes with him again. But this time, her eyes weren't as hard or as weighty as before. They were sad. A near clawing sorrow that made him want to break eye contact just to get away from them. But it was her voice, the hollowness to it that caused a shiver of unease to course down his spine. "...If it comes down to it, I would rather the blood be on my hands today. I've killed before; one more won't matter much to me."
"It won't." And he meant it. It was one thing to take a life himself, but to have someone else shoulder that burden just so he could feel better about himself...it felt dirty. Slimy in a way he wasn't comfortable pinning down right in that moment. "I'll make sure of it."
It was more a promise to himself than anything else, and to keep it, he would use every tool in his box to avoid putting her in that situation...even if that meant compromising his own morals to do so.
"We'll see." She didn't really sound all too convinced and simply turned away, tapping away at her steering wheel as the traffic blurred past them. Silence filled the space instantly, far more comfortable than before. No feeling as if he was sitting on pins and needles or just waiting for a knife to be swung first. It was more subdued.
Glancing off to the side, his spine straightened as he saw a familiar bus drudging its way. That same crone-like woman at the helm, looking just as sour and unfriendly as ever. Seeing past her into the interior was impossible, but he just knew deep in his bones Malaya was there.
"Look alive."
Albert called out, and he wasn't really too sure if it was for her sake or his own. Almost instantly, he could feel his muscles grow taut as he leaned forward. He watched the bus as if expecting it to suddenly disappear in a puff of smoke. Holding his breath, he waited. And waited for the massive beast of machinery to slow down to a complete stop. Watched as it let out this hydraulic hiss and slowly descended.
Mrs. Bryant's eyes suddenly turned in their direction, her hard eyes amplified through those thick frames, seeming to pierce through the heavy tint to stare directly into his very soul. His lungs seized as the full brunt of that gaze struck with an almost physical force.
But the moment quickly passed, as that gaze unfocused and glanced elsewhere.
Letting out a breath, he couldn't help but laugh inwardly at his skittishness. Before long, he watched as the bus hissed one more time as it rose above these lowly mortals and zoomed away. Allowing him to spot the small back shuffling their way to the hotel entrance, their head downcast and a rather hefty backpack slung over one shoulder.
"That her?"
"Yeah." Just looking at the women was enough for him to fall back in that vat of negative emotions, his heart beating loudly in his ears as she created distance between them. Even more guilt struck him then, piling onto the mountain that weighed heavily on his soul. The signs were clear from the very first day, and he'd been completely blind to them. No, that wasn't necessarily right, he stayed, hadn't he? He knew something wasn't right, but at the time, it was impossible to place that feeling. But maybe it was some deeper, better part of himself that refused to let things stay as they were. Swallowing back a lump the size of a golf ball, Albert continued. "That's her...We can get ready now."
"...You know, I do have another question," Willow said, popping her door open and allowing the ambient noon traffic to come washing over him. "Are you sure about this? I know you want to make sure it's practically impossible to identify you, but isn't this a bit much?"
"Yes, I'm sure." Maybe he'd gone a bit overboard on this disguise, but there had been a method to his madness. Keegan would talk, willing to do anything to get the cops off his back, and when he did, nothing linking Albert here should be in that description. Hopefully, they would be looking for yet another ghost.
"Whatever you say." With that, she closed the door behind her. Leaving him to his own devices. Taking this time, Albert really thought back to when he was crafting this face. He wanted to appear dignified and mighty. Like a lion, but an old lion well into its twilight years. And did dignity ever really decline with age? No, in some respects, it grew. Slowly, his posture changed. Moving from that natural slumped state to something upright and relaxed. Chest not particularly poked out, no, that spoke of a young or insecure man with something to prove. Instead, his neck realigned, raising his head a few degrees up from its natural droop.
He could've padded his skinny frame, added insoles in his shoes to give himself a more sturdy appearance. But an old man like him had no need for his physical might; that was a young man's game. Instead, it was better to lean into that apparent frailty. And with that suit a size too large, it only seemed to emphasize that effect.
But what he had so far was just a face, some clothing, and correct posture. It needed something more, a name to tie it all together. A name that would bloom into a persona to hide behind.
Keeping his gaze locked forward, he didn't even blink when the door popped open beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, the slightly amused smirk on Willow's face was plain to see as she leaned down.
"Right this way, Mr. Aslan."
Just as that name left her lips, a subtle click sounded off in the back of his head. Those scales shifted, Disguise settling in like an old friend. Arm raised, he allowed his lower legs to go completely limp.
"Of course, my dear."
His tone dropped a few octaves, growing a bit of a steady huskiness and becoming something far more soothing than his normal scratchy thing of a voice. Using her body to block his movement, he slid his gun from out of its hiding spot and slid it into the glove box. Earning himself a subtle nod.
Reaching down, Willow scooped him up carefully under his knees and armpit before gently setting him down in his throne. Soft padding met his back, the rigid arms guarding him from both sides. The women quickly got his legs in a more comfortable position before shutting the door with a soft click.
Coming around behind him, she gripped the handle tightly and slowly began maneuvering them across the street. Cars from both sides screeched to a halt as they passed, a few honking in annoyance at the apparent upset but nothing too bad.
"The weather is just as dreadful as always, is it not?"
"Of course, Mr. Aslan."
Despite the fact that no one was really around to hear their conversation, she still didn't break character. Something Albert greatly appreciated, but only for a moment before he fully let go of the reins and allowed Mr. Aslan to take center stage.
***
Mr. Aslan sat in companionable silence as they passed by a near-endless number of doors. Bland surfaces met their march; others opened with staff quickly stripping off sheets and spraying everything down in heavy disinfectant. Who, sometimes, when they saw the pair, would quickly but politely make way. Their gaze and conversations dropping as one whenever the slight creak entered their ears.
In other rooms, with clear 'Do not disturb' signs hanging off the door-nob, they remained completely unaware.
The old lion took in his environment, the cheap carpet that pulled at his wheels, to the constant musky undertone that no amount of cleaning could ever fully get rid of. Mixed with the deep and pervasive smell of cigarette smoke.
It was a drab place, more than earning the 'seedy' label.
Wheeling to a complete stop, Willow turned him slightly.
"Mr. Aslan, allow me." The woman said, purposefully making her voice carry to the lingering staff. Nodding silently, his gaze locked onto the door before them. Nearing the far end of the hall, sat a lone door that seemed just as bland and unimpressive as all the other's. Even possessing the same 'Do not disturb' sign hanging off the doorknob. Reaching down into her pocket, she pulled out the very key the manager had been all too eager to hand over. She glanced down at him, that facade breaking for just a moment. Tension oozed off her in waves; it was most likely less about fear and more about anticipation. She'd never been one to steer away from conflict, especially when dealing with scum. In fact, sometimes, he thought the women actually enjoyed it.
Taking his silence as an answer enough, she quickly slid the key into place with barely a sound and cracked the door open a hair. Leaning in closer, she took that split instance to listen. Trying to glean what was going on in that room. The sound of a television blaring in the background met them; the news, if he hazarded a guess, along with it, a running shower could be heard just barely above it.
Opening the door wider, they moved in as one. The slight creaking ruined any attempt at stealth before it ever had a chance.
Moving past the small corridor, the first thing he saw was a pair of heavy curtains. Each of them an unpleasant green color that in no way matched the bright red shaggy carpet, or even the bright white dresser pushed along their path. Turning his head fully to the side, a large bed filled his vision. Bare, with only a simple tarp covering its surface. Covered in all manner of items. Like rope, candles, straps, paddles, whips, a few brightly colored phallic objects, and even what seemed to be a pair of small hooks connected to thin nylon strings.
But most importantly, a young woman lay in the center. Her arms were handcuffed behind her back, with a bright pink blindfold, noise-cancelling ear muffs, and a ball gag. He quickly averted his eyes. Only then did his gaze land on a camera set up in the corner. A few tapes lay haphazardly on the ground, with a clunky box standing atop skinny legs for a stand. All of which were pointed at the exposed woman.
That would explain why there hadn't been a reaction to their little break-in, as it seems not even the person in the bathroom could hear anything other than the shower.
Leather creaked audibly behind him, and suddenly, he knew it was a bad idea to be standing between the wrathful woman and the man responsible. Without waiting another moment, Willow growled and circled around him before reaching down and tossing a blanket over the naked women, who, startled and confused, muffled yelps filled the room.
And without further ado, she stalked forward with the grace and deadly intent of a large cat before wrenching open the bathroom door without a second thought.
"-What?" The clueless man, while sounding a bit surprised, held an amused undercurrent to his words. "Couldn't wait any longer, could you, you fucking slut? I guess, I can reward how needy you're bei-Who the fuc-"
By the time Keegan ever knew what happened, a rough tussling could be heard. Repeated kicks and slams reverberated through the wall, causing the TV to wobble precariously. On and on it went, the blows becoming more infrequent and weak. Until after what felt like an eternity, the bathroom finally fell silent. Only to then have it ruined as a heavy thump was heard. Wet and meaty before Willow came stomping out.
She didn't look up at him and instead bent down to rummage around in a bag nearby, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. Tugging on them a good few times, the woman disappeared back inside for a few more moments before coming out once more. Chest heaving and eyes looking a bit wild, she simply nodded to him.
"He'll live, he's going to be in a lot of pain though."
"Excellent." Mr. Aslan nodded, moving himself forward while keeping his face trained to the ground. "Then could you please take care of Mrs. Barton here; I'll deal with Keegan."
"Understood, Mr. Aslan."
Willow nodded, making her way over to the restrained woman with a tenderness he'd never seen. Inclining his head, he hastened his movement. He felt that he shouldn't be present while this happened; he could at least provide that much privacy. Instead, as he passed the camera set, he reached over and carefully examined it. It didn't appear to be on, but really, it was better safe than sorry, and only after taking it off its stand and settling it down on the floor did he feel comfortable enough to roll forward.
Propping the door open, he just stared at the scene before him. The bathroom was rather large, with a small mirror over a sink at one end, with the bathtub a good couple of feet away. More than enough space to pace around. Willow had been correct; Keegan would live. Seeing the man's chest rise and fall was enough to know that much. And combine that with lack of bloody spatters or pool, or even a simple bruise on his body, it was safe to say he'd gotten off far easier than he deserved.
Naked and chained up to the exposed piping of a toilet, but still in a reasonable, uninjured state. Rolling forward and allowing the door to shut close behind him with an audible click, his eyes fell from the man and zeroed in more on the small bag sitting on the sink counter. Going over to it, he began to sift through it without even a hint of hesitation.
There, Mr. Aslan found a variety of objects. First, Keegan's phone along with his wallet and keys. And besides that, multiple small plastic bags no larger than his thumb were carefully laid out. Familiar neon pink pills stared back at him. Almost mocking as they glimmered under the bathroom light.
'Sap of the Bodhi.'
At this point, he was beginning to get sick and tired of seeing this drug seemingly everywhere. And he only barely stopped himself from flushing it down the toilet; this was evidence. Something the police can use to further prove what happened here. Or would it really matter? They'd broken in, and that in itself probably made any evidence found here null and void in a court of law. He could always just say that it had been planted in this room. That he was being framed by malicious agents and that would probably be enough to wrack a seed of doubt in some people.
Hopefully, whatever evidence the police would find in his home would be enough to make up for whatever is lost in this break-in.
Instead, he placed it off to the side and began to scroll through the man's phone. There were a few texts he could see of some note. From multiple contacts, almost all of them were in a similar fashion as what he'd seen while snooping through Malaya's phone. And from the looks of things, they were also somewhat recent. As in within the last week to even a day ago.
'More than nine, then.'
It had always been a possibility that the reported number was nowhere near the actual amount, but from what he could see now, it was quickly nearing twenty in total.
The number made his lip curl downward, gaze swiveling back to the unconscious man as a dark spike lanced through him. It would be so easy, so goddamn easy to get rid of this monster here and now. Taking in a deep breath, Albert tried to compose himself. Trying to quell the rising inferno billowing out from his chest before turning away from the sink and pivoting in place. Settling the back of his chair against the wall, the teen prepared himself to wait.
Mr. Aslan had a lot of questions, and he would be damn sure to unearth every single one before the day was done.