Conticent

We stood in front of the door, noticing a small note stuck to it with tape. It read, "KNOCK" in bold letters. Leo shot me a glance, and I crossed my arms, stepping back slightly as he rapped his knuckles on the door. After a brief pause, the lock clicked, and a man appeared, his eyes red and glazed over—definitely high on some red crystal. His face screamed he was done with life. Without a word, he stepped aside, letting us in.

Inside, the ‘hotel’ was a jumbled mess of connected RVs, each transition between them marked by uneven floors and mismatched walls. A makeshift reception counter stood crammed between two old sofas, with wires dangling from the ceiling. Neon lights, hanging haphazardly, buzzed softly, casting a dim glow over the space. The room smelled like a mix of cheap disinfectant and old cigarettes, with tattered rugs doing little to warm up the cold metal beneath.

A flag was hanging behind the reception desk—it was the flag of The Big Ones. I was positive that whoever owned this establishment hated the cops… hated us.

"Welcome," the man grunted, shuffling behind the reception desk, his movements slow and disinterested. "What do you want?"

“We’re friends of Alisha. Alisha Bhark,” Leo began, his tone polite but firm. “She mentioned she left her bag here. Can you tell us which room she stayed in last?”

The man’s bloodshot eyes narrowed. "You think I’m stupid? I’ve seen the news. I know she’s dead."

Leo didn’t flinch. "So, which room?"

“Why don’t you go suck a pig’s dick, pig?” he snapped, his voice dripping with disdain. "I’m not talking to any damn cops."

Leo gave a quiet chuckle, muttering under his breath. “I thought it was just the folks in Little Istanbul that hated us.”

“I’m from Little Istanbul,” the man snarled, crossing his arms. “Now, get the hell out before I—"

Leo’s smile widened as he interrupted. "Before you call the cops?" He leaned in closer, resting his hands on the counter. “Look, man, just tell us where she stayed. We’re not here to cause trouble.”

“Faggot. Cunt.”

“My guy,” Leo said, stepping closer, his voice calm but firm. “We’re not here to mess up your night. We just need a bit of help, that’s all.”

The man’s bloodshot eyes flickered with defiance. “Shut up.”

“Alisha Bhark,” Leo continued, leaning on the counter casually. “We know you know her. All we’re asking is where she stayed last. Then we’ll be out of your hair, no drama.”

The guy sneered, “Why should I help a couple of cops?”

Leo flashed a warm smile, leaning in as if they were old friends. “You see, I could get all official, pull out the badge and go that route. But why make it harder? No need for paperwork, no need for anyone else to get involved. You tell us what we need to know, and we’re gone before you can finish that cigarette. Sound fair?”

“Nah. Get out of here.”

“Okay.” Leo nodded. “C, give a call to dispatch. Say we need units to search this place. Hell, maybe we’ll even find something we shouldn’t find… like a stash of red crystal, who knows?”

I grabbed my radio. “Dispatch, this is 45-40. We need—”

“Wait!” He said. “Wait, just…”

“Mmh?” Leo mumbled.

The man’s expression softened, clearly weighing his options. After a beat, he let out a sigh, rubbing his temple. “Second room on the left,” he muttered. “It’s unlocked.”

“45-40?” Dispatch crackled through. “Need what?”

“False alarm, Dispatch. Situation’s under control.”

Leo clapped him on the shoulder, his smile never fading. “See? Easy. Thanks for the help, man. You’ve saved us both a lot of trouble.”

As we walked toward the room, Leo glanced at me, smirking. “If James were here he’d beaten that guy up.”

The Forgottens ruled Tidbit with a lighter hand than The Big Ones, but they were still criminals needing to be locked up. The two groups had a working relationship—TBO grew red crystal far from West Antapolis’ watchful eye, and The Forgottens distributed it in the streets. But lately, tension had crept into their dealings, and it wasn’t clear why.

I slid open the RV door to the second room. The stale air hit us immediately. The small space was cramped, with barely enough room for a narrow bed and a makeshift desk wedged into the corner. Dust coated nearly every surface, and the faint smell of mildew clung to the fabric of the bed, which sagged under its own weight. A cracked mirror hung lopsided on one wall, reflecting a dim and grimy room that had seen better days.

Leo wrinkled his nose, waving his hand in front of his face. "Dusty as hell… smells like something died in here."

I flicked the switch, turning on the small wall lamp. “Well, let’s hope not.”

He grunted. “Alright, C. See if there’s anything useful.”

We began our search, carefully checking the drawers and under the bed, hoping for a clue in the middle of this mess.

Feeling my phone vibrate, I pulled it out and saw my mother’s name flashing on the screen. She was probably worried because I hadn’t visited her yet. I’d missed seeing her yesterday, too, thanks to that wraith sinking its teeth into my neck and landing me under observation. And now—I was neck-deep in trying to solve Alisha’s murder before time ran out.

“Hey, Mom,” I answered, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder while rummaging through a wardrobe. “How are you?”

“Oh, Cratehalaña,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of joy. “Great news! They said I could go home. Where are you? Can you pick me up?”

I raised an eyebrow, my voice still flat. “Really? That’s good news. I’m—uh, caught up with work. I’ll call Jane, she’ll pick you up.”

“Are you too busy?”

“Just a bit, Mom.”

“Is it Alisha’s murder?” she asked, her voice tinged with sorrow. “Poor woman. May God welcome her into His heaven.”

“Yeah, Mom,” I muttered, shutting the wardrobe door and lifting a dusty rug.

That's when I noticed it—two tiny drops of blood on the floor. They’d been scrubbed, but just barely. I crouched down, eyes narrowing at the faint stains. With a snap of my fingers, I signaled Leo over, pointing at the floor before standing up and moving to the window.

“Huh,” Leo mumbled, examining the stain. “Wonder if this was here before Alisha and Miranda stayed.”

“Mom, I gotta hang up,” I said into the phone. “Take care of yourself, alright? I’ll let Jane know you’re out.”

Leo's eyes widened suddenly. “Get down!”

The window exploded, and bullets tore through the room like a hailstorm. We hit the floor, covering our heads as shattered glass rained down. Leo grabbed his walkie-talkie, barking into it for backup while I drew my service pistol, flicking off the safety.

After Leo’s call for reinforcements, the gunfire paused. We peeked out cautiously, pistols aimed. Two masked figures were reloading behind a nearby RV.

“Death to whoever defends those monsters!” one of them shouted. “The Noble Americans will fix this country!”

Leo cursed under his breath. “Noble Americans. Great, just our luck.”

We fired back, but missed as they ducked for cover. A bullet suddenly punched through the thin RV wall and lodged itself in my shoulder. I clenched my jaw, trying to swallow the pain.

“What’s going on?” my mom’s voice crackled from the phone I’d dropped. “What’s happening?”

“Damn it,” I hissed. “What’s the plan, Leo?”

“Hell if I know! Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just a scratch.”

As if the universe wanted to test our luck further, a grenade clattered through the broken window, landing in the center of the room. Leo and I exchanged a look—no time for anything else. We were screwed.

The explosion blew us apart, flinging me through the air. I crashed through a window and landed hard on top of a nearby RV, dazed. Before I could catch my breath, one of the masked men climbed up, spraying bullets wildly. I kicked his weapon aside just in time, rolling off the roof and hitting the ground hard.

“Ugh… damn.”

The other masked guy emerged a few meters ahead, aiming his rifle at me. I rolled again, diving under the RV, and emerged on the other side, sprinting in the opposite direction.

I stumbled through a crowd of panicked people, took a sharp left, and ducked behind a caravan, gasping for breath. My hands were shaking, adrenaline pumping, heart thudding in my chest. I never expected to be ambushed by The Noble Americans here, in Tidbit. Usually, gangs left us alone; after all, we were the ones dealing with vampires and wraiths, not human scum.

“Alright, C,” I muttered, steadying my breaths. “Calm down. Calm… down. Last bullet.”

That maniac darted to the left, and suddenly we were face-to-face. In a split second, we both raised our guns and pulled the trigger. My shot hit him square in the stomach, while his bullet went wide, missing me completely. As the impact drove him to one knee, he accidentally fired off five more rounds, emptying his magazine in a wild spray. Luck was on my side; none of the bullets found their mark. Seizing the moment, I dashed forward and delivered a powerful punch.

We both went down in a heap. I scrambled on top of him, aiming to strike again, but he caught my wrists and countered with a brutal headbutt, knocking the breath out of me. In a heartbeat, he flipped me over, reversing our positions. Now he was on top, raining down a barrage of punches.

“The Noble Americans will fix this country!” he screamed, each word punctuated by another hit. “We will fix it!”

I groaned, desperately shielding my face from his relentless blows. Pain shot through my shoulder where the bullet was lodged, my strength ebbing away with each punch. My vision blurred as my endurance started to give out.

Then, over the chaos, I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps closing in fast. For a moment, I dared to move my hands away from my battered face, peeking through swollen eyes. A towering figure stood over us—a woman, easily over 190 centimeters, with a commanding presence. She wore simple, fitted clothes: tight pants and a shirt, her brown hair cropped in a sharp pixie cut. Her face was hidden behind a plain white mask, only her piercing eyes visible through narrow slits.

With an effortless motion, she reached down and gripped the man's head like it was a toy. Before he could react, she yanked upward, and his skull, along with the spine, tore free from his body as if it were made of paper. Blood sprayed across my face, and his lifeless body slumped onto me. She was a vampire—and judging by her strength, a royal one at that.

“So noisy,” she muttered, her voice bored as she tossed the man’s head aside and turned away, walking off without a second glance.

I struggled to push the corpse off me, my body screaming in pain. The adrenaline that had fueled me drained away completely, and I felt my consciousness slipping. My vision darkened, and with one last futile attempt to stay awake, I finally blacked out.