The worst part of air travel was the final part after the plane taxied over to the terminal and all the passengers crammed into the aisle and started trying to grab their shit and disembark,

Even though there weren't many people on this particular flight and I didn't have much luggage of my own to grab, it still had the usual infuriating and stifling feeling. Something about the clogged up rush to disembark still made me seethe in silence. I always found myself having uncharacteristically aggressive urges to just tear a hole in the fuselage and escape onto the tarmac. It didn't help that I could totally follow through on those urges, this time.

I restrained myself. I was fortunate enough that I didn't get 'called' on my bet that the Anathema scanners at the airport security didn't actually do anything. I'd heard that was the case for many other detectors, particularly radioactive materials or other atomics. Granted, not every scanner was a fake, and I'd taken a significant risk that I maybe shouldn't have.

Regardless, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders when I at last made it out of the stuffy aircraft and began rolling my little carry-on suitcase up the accordion ramp thingy.

All I needed to do now was grab Dr. Jason's stupid cat and travel to the hotel David had already booked. Admittedly, I was also prepared for trouble. I felt safe enough on the airplane, given that I didn't think the Bouquet or really anyone else would want to draw too much attention by hijacking it or something. That being said, I felt like there was a decent chance someone tried to fuck with me somewhere between here and the hotel.

And even if not someone was definitely going to fuck with me eventually.

Getting the cat was way easier than I expected. Getting the cat on the plane was the much harder part, which made sense—but in the end, the whole process was honestly easier than I would have expected, especially since I didn't even own the damn animal.

The kitty didn't seem very happy. I know I sure wouldn't be. Regardless, that meant all that was left was to get a taxi, as I didn't have any bagged luggage to pick up from the airport carousel area. I wanted to get a taxi specifically and not any kind of app-based ride share because of my continued paranoia. I figured it would be harder, though certainly not impossible, for a criminal organization to 'hijack' a taxi.

Upon exiting the taxi, I immediately noticed a parked limousine with a driver holding a sign with my name on it. Yeah, no. Fuck this. I was right to be paranoid. David would never do that, and even if he did, he would have told me about it. I had full confidence that this limousine was some kind of nefarious setup.

So, I did the reasonable thing, which was to stop a good twenty or thirty feet away and shout at the guy to see if I could figure out who specifically had set this up. I suspected it was either the Bouquet or Dr. Jason himself, but how could I be sure?

"Hey, jackass, are you one of the Violets or are you playing ball for someone else?"

He didn't answer. Well, at least I tried. I wasn't concerned that I'd given away that I knew something was up. I would have flagged down a taxi either way, so it didn't make much difference. I did note that he seemed to be talking to someone I couldn't see—someone else in the limo? Or does he have a hidden earpiece thing?

It didn't really matter. I grabbed the nearest taxi and pulled myself, my small roller suitcase, and the Goddamn fucking cat into the back and stuffed a fistful of random cash into the front. Even for a taxi in a city like Las Vegas, it was almost certainly an overpayment, but I wasn't in this for an ordinary ride.

After rattling off the name and address of the hotel, I continued on with additional instructions. "And I am dead fucking serious when I say that someone is probably going to follow or otherwise try to screw with me, so I'd appreciate it if you drive with that in mind."

Frankly, I had no idea what that would actually entail—but surely Hollywood knowledge isn't going to fail me here, right? I figured a legit taxi driver would be decent at losing people in real life—and it was literally Vegas.

I also hoped that the wad of hundred dollar bills I'd tossed into the middle area between the two front seats would help to convey that this was the 'real deal,' so to speak, and that I wasn't just spouting bullshit.

"Understood, Miss," was all he said as the vehicle drove off. Just gotta hope for the best, I guess.

Meanwhile, I checked my phone again. There was a short message from David, asking how my arrival was going—I guess he checked the status of the flight number or whatever? I sent a quick text back to let him know that I was currently taking a taxi to the hotel.

I also had a text from an unknown number from a few minutes prior—probably while I was still sitting in the stuffy plane, if I were to guess. It was—concerning.

Alex, it's Katherine, are you okay? Luna okay? Where are you? I could use some help right now.

The text had the usual style I was now used to—all of Katherine's texts had the same unique, if subtle flavor to them. My running theory was that it was the result of her using her power to tell the phone what to say, and the phone keyboard or whatever using proper capitalization and grammar despite Katherine phrasing the content like texting slang.

The fact that it came from an unfamiliar number didn't phase me. I already expected things like that to happen. I guess she finally used someone else's device. We hadn't really talked about it much, but the fact that she never messed with my own phone or laptop made me think it was either more difficult for some reason or that she was just too polite.

Regardless, I had no intention of texting back. Not yet. I had my own situation to deal with, and there was still a slim chance that the message wasn't legit. I didn't think that was the case, but right now? After someone tried to trick me into a limo to kidnap me? Yeah, not gonna take any chances.

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While the hotel wasn't too far from the airport, the ride was way longer than I wanted it to be. It was a full half hour before the taxi pulled to a stop in front of the main entrance. Thirty minutes of waiting for something dramatic to happen wasn't the best experience.

I wasn't afraid, exactly—it was kind of like waiting for the nurse to stick you with a needle to deliver a shot. Not too bad in the end, and not frightening, either—but the negative anticipation itself was kind of unpleasant.

Waiting for the other shoe to drop, right? I think that's the phrase.

After getting out, I walked up the steps to the fancy revolving door—and then paused. Wait, shit. There's no way they allow pets in the hotel, right? What was I going to do about the stupid cat? Also, what was I going to do about the possibility of people ambushing me in the hotel. You know, the more I consider things, the more this is starting to feel like an absolutely terrible idea.

There was nothing I could do about the fact that it was the situation I was in now, though, so seeing things through felt like it was the optimal strategy out of a suboptimal pool of potential choices.

I decided not to bother with seeing if the hotel would allow me to bring the cat up to my room. The answer was almost certainly going to be 'no.' Unfortunately, by this point my taxi had already departed.

That meant I was now stuck in front of a fancy hotel in the middle of Las Vegas with a stupid fucking, smug-looking, and most likely traumatized cat. God. Fucking. Damnit. Where could I even put the damn thing without someone snatching it back?

Actually, wait. I remembered that I could literally just fly.

The first thing I did was to circle around into a back alley, put down my suitcase, remove my shirt, and kick off my shoes. Then I manifested my wings. I also allowed the rest of my body to slip into its true 'default' form—basically, I released my constant 'grip' and stopped passively resisting the formation of a metal mask, talons, and claws.

Then I picked up the cat carrier and began to climb.

It was something halfway between flight and rock climbing. I used my wings to launch myself several feet upwards at regular intervals, then stabilized myself against the side of the building with sharpened hands and feet. I didn't want to leave obvious tracks on the side of the building, but I also didn't want to fly all the way up past however many stories the building actually was.

The second part was purely because gaining altitude in flight—unlike running or climbing at this point—actually took substantial physical effort and I was super lazy.

It took a pretty long time, by which I meant, like, several minutes. I was pretty sure someone out in the world had seen me do it—several someones, most likely—but I hoped I hadn't drawn enough attention that hotel management or regular police would wise up to what I was doing.

It would be equally good if my current stalkers also missed it, but I wouldn't count on that, since it sure seemed like they were already actively pursuing me.

The important part was that there was no one on the roof, there would likely be no one on the roof for some time, it was relatively private, and the cat couldn't escape the area even if I let it out of the bag.

Then I dropped all the way back to the ground and prayed that no one was going to literally swoop in and take my hard-earned bargaining chip.

After changing back to a fully human appearance and putting my shoes and shirt back on, I took my suitcase and entered the hotel properly.

It fortunately didn't take long at all to get the keycard to my room. David had already secured it for me, as I was supposed to already have arrived a day ago at this point. I then took the elevator all the way up to one of the higher floors on the building. Then I cautiously inspected my room.

The first thing I did was to stop in the hallway next to the door and carefully taste the air. I wanted to make sure there were no people on the other side waiting for me. Unfortunately, I definitely tasted something.

Hmm—regular human, or actually, maybe not so regular. Not a Guardian of any kind, though. Why is there just one? And so weak? Frankly, it seemed like underkill for what they should have known they were up against.

Mentally shrugging, I opened the door and slipped inside as quickly as I could. Inside, I caught sight of a surprised person fooling around with the side of the bed mattress. I didn't stop to think about what they might be doing or why, instead leaping through the air and tackling them to the ground.

It was a young woman, I realized, probably a few years older than myself. Having already thought ahead, I was quick to make sure I had firmly covered her mouth. "I know you have esoteric augmentations, so don't act like you're a completely normal human. What the fuck are you doing messing around in my room?"

It was at that point I noticed the maid cart and her staff uniform. Oh great, they've infiltrated the maids. "Okay, that wasn't a great question. What do you want from me and who do you work for?"

This time, I kept it vague and didn't mention the Bouquet specifically. Obviously, I also had to take the risk of decreasing the pressure on her face so she could actually answer—the answer that came out as a slightly muffled, rapidfire stream of anxious rambling.

"Sorry I don't know who you are I'm just part of the cleaning staff I just work here I do have some augs but they're just cosmetic I can show you some bioluminescence if you turn the lights off please don't hurt me?"

I blinked. You know—she could actually be telling the truth. Even if that were the case, though, I wasn't interested in keeping her alive. "Shame." I snapped her neck before she could react or respond.

Great, what now? As I calmed down a bit, I realized that I did buy her story in retrospect. Which is just really inconvenient, isn't it? Bad timing, I guess. Still, waste not want not, and this time, I didn't feel like calling emergency services and concocting a story. Unlike with Bungie guy, I didn't see how I could reasonably make this look like an accident.

Well, waste not, want not. The first thing I did was haul the fresh body into the hotel bathroom, where I then deposited it in the oversized tub. This was definitely about to get messy, and even before that, I didn't want any piss or something leaking out on the carpet or whatever. That is a thing dead people can end up doing, right?

Better not take the risk.

From there, I stripped the clothes off, let my true features slip, and got to work. After all, I was always so, so

hungry.

And who was I to deny myself an unexpected treat?

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