He stood in the walkway, ghostly winds blowing behind him, the neons and screen displays turned off leaving only a moody glow from his flashlight.

  The door to the room of the couple he'd made eye contact with is what befell his eyesight. He approaches it slowly, each step loud and deliberate. He breaks the silence yet again with a knock at the door. No answer, and so he knocks again. No answer.

  “Abbey. Open up.” He calls. No answer.

  He draws his laser glock from his holster and racks the slide.

  “I'm not asking you again. Open up.”

  No answer.

  He steps away from the door and shoots out the lock, the red laser lighting the hallway ever so briefly. He kicks it open and it smashes onto the floor, the sudden force ripping it off its hinges.. He invades the room with his gun drawn.

  His golden eyes scan the room, the place having been unoccupied for some time now. The telltale signs being the deactivated lights and disabled air conditioning.

  He lowers his weapon but keeps it drawn, inspecting one of the open bedrooms. The beds were stripped of their sheets and pillowcases, yet were otherwise spotless. He inspects the room adjacent, concluding the same story.

  Then, he inspects the sanitation room, his findings piquing his intrigue. Various computers and assorted wires littered around the room, all with no immediately discernible purpose.

  He simply nods his head, absorbing the sight with his gold eyes before leaving back to the hallway and into the elevator.

  An uninspired, AI generated tune plays on the way down. The elevator is rather drab and dull. A nice change in a way.

  While once, it would've been made to tick the boxes for unoffensive, mass appeal… it is now in a state of visual disrepair from the types of people this establishment seems to lend itself to.

  The door opens to the ground floor, and Proteus is met with a sight he'd been counting on. An obese man in lazy clothing converses with the SERaMACs receptionist. His only standout features were his powered leather jacket with neon accents and soft stitching.

  The other standout; a high-tech prosthetic right forearm, far more advanced than most prosthetics the masses have access to. Proteus discerns this man has financial ties to the establishment. Proteus walks out sociably, greeting the man warmly.

  “Ah! You're just the type of person I was hoping to see.” He reaches out his hand, but the man simply looks at him with a weird, almost scared look. “Uhh, can… can I help you?”

  “Ah.” Proteus says, withdrawing his unshooken hand and sliding a fake business card on the desk in its absence. “My name's Clemence Deckard, representing a subsidiary of—”

  “What's this?” The man asks uncomfortably, holding the business card towards Proteus.

  “That… that's a business card man. Look at it.” He answers.

  The man looks at it, then slides it back. “Uhhh… okay. You can have it back now.” The man says, looking at him as if he has some sort of eye problem.

  Proteus takes it back and smiles warmly, though on the inside he is totally stunned at the social incompetence of this moron.

  “Well, with that out the way. I represent the interests of a subsidiary of the Kubaal Aetheon Trust.” The man's eyes start bulging upon hearing that, Proteus continues.

  “I could perhaps get your name and what you do here?”

  “Uhh… I'm…” The man struggles to get out. “Nice to meet you… uh, Clem— Clementine?”

  “Mhmm.” Proteus nods, the man continuing.

  If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  “I’m— I'm Rick and I, uh, am the building staff manager.”

  The man stands up straight and salutes Proteus. Proteus can't help but raise an eyebrow at the display. “Alright… So. I need some help from you Rick. There was a huge commotion on one of the higher floors, correct?”

  “Yes.” Replies Rick. “That's what I'm here for, I wouldn't come outside otherwise.”

  “Oh of course!” Proteus goes along with it. “I need you to tell me the names of the tenets closest to him, just three doors away. The room is 79Z.”

  “I'm… I'm not really sure if I can help you with that.” The man admits startled. “But I'm sure the SERaMACs bot could help you.”

  Proteus looks at the bot with a minor scowl, the bot looking back dead and expressionless. “The bot has proven to be rather useless. I'm asking for your help, specifically. Rick.”

  Rick looks at the bot, then back to Proteus. “I don't know Mr Clemmy. He's been perfectly fine with me. I mean, look, he's perfectly functional!”

  Rick gestures his hands towards it like a used car salesman.

  “He?” Proteus sighs. He turns away from Rick and quick-draws his laser glock, rapidly filling the bot with plasma holes until it lies scrapped on the ground like swiss cheese.

  “AHHHH!!!” Rick screams like a girl, cowering away from such a fright.

  “Sorry Rick. Looks like your little SERaMACs bot is out of commission.” Proteus informs, walking closer to the coward and crouching down to his level. “Now, I'll ask you again. Can you help name the tenets of room apartment AH4279Z?”

  “Oh— okay I'll do it.” Rick concedes, a blubbering mess on the floor.

  Proteus holsters his pistol again and offers him a hand up.

  “Great! Let's find a computer terminal, shall we?”

  Rick leads him back into the elevator, inserting a keycard which takes them below the ground floor. The door opens to a small, dusty office. Probably not having ever been used since it was built.

  Proteus watches Rick as he logs in and closes tabs. He opens an application and makes way for Proteus to take over, who inputs the room number. The screen displays the information.

  “Tenets: John, 21. Amy, 19.

  Occupations:

  MeKSUT Operator, Imbondeiro Shipping Solutions LLC.

  Height: 5’11, 5’1. Weight: 75kg, 44kg.

  Citizen Class: D. Net Credits: 429.”

  Proteus prompts it for more info.

  “Last known location:

  En Route to Badwater Depot, Pine Ridge, Nebraska.

  Last known purchase: Cassette Vendor.

  Last seen at Grand Briggs Plaza: 21h ago.”

  Proteus collects the info in his memory and turns to Rick, who is cowering in one of the dark corners of the room.

  “Are you familiar with a tenant who came here called Abbey?”

  “Uh, no?” The guy replies. “I thought Abbey was just a name for that cartoon character?” Proteus sits up straighter. “What cartoon character?”

  “Y’know, uh… that one who's really small and pink and has a tail?” Rick exposites. Proteus looks away from Rick and back at the screen.

  “John.” He whispers to himself. “Amy… Abbey?”

  He remembers the sight of the couple, matching it to their descriptions. “...then Abbey isn't the actual name. It is Amy.” He realizes, getting up from the seat and entering the yellow elevator.

  “I've got all I need to know. Kubaal Aetheon thanks you for your cooperation. And… may joy approach you, Rick” He bids goodbye, closing the door for the ground floor.

  He exits the elevator and power walks to the station-wagon, his pristine clothing staying picture-perfect even through the tar and rain.

  “SERaMACs, you useless piece of shit.” He calls the infotainment system. “What is closer, Unity Transit Point or the closest Imbondeiro Shipping Solutions fulfillment center?” The system takes a minute to reply, Proteus starting the car in the meantime.

  “Unity Transit Point, located on the outskirts of Detroit, Michigan, is approximately eight hundred and ninety miles from our current location.

  The Mount Viscera fulfillment facility, located in the Bow-Routt wastes, Nebraska, is approximately two hundred and eighty miles from our current location.”

  Proteus keys in the location of Mount Viscera into the map's display, setting off with a keen determination. “Bow-Routt was a part of Wyoming last time I checked. What the hell else has happened since I've been gone.”