A/N: Daemonosophers is my go-to story to get rid of writer’s block, thus the ridiculousness. Cheers!
Imagine: you’re re-adjusting the straps of your prosthetic breasts beneath your drag costume in a bathroom stall, an hour before you will engage in hand-to-hand combat with a lizard monster, and someone walks in on you.
Not possible, you say? Well, It couldn’t have been any more real for Jekyll Castleman.
The fifty-something year-old ostrich gawked at Jekyll’s hands, which cupped two large balls of perky plastic fixed to his chest. Her wrinkly, dark eyes blew up in confusion.
“Uhh, do you mind?” Jekyll said, just as confused.
The ostrich blanched, then flushed. Clutching her pearl necklace, she snapped out of it and squawked a hurried apology, almost dropping her handbag as the stall door slammed closed and the bolt clicked back into place.
Jekyll exhaled ten-thousand curses into one long sigh, and checked the lock. You’re useless, defective, he told the lock.The online reviews for this hotel must have been fake.
A snazzy, island melody sputtered from an ancient intercom in the corner of the ceiling, and the sounds of the ostrich’s panicky footsteps on the bathroom tile bounced off the walls, echoed and retreated.
What if she was running off to tattle to the security guards about a pervert in the ladies room? Being that this was the fourth floor of the hotel, Jekyll had to think of an escape route, quickly.
The golden jackal glanced into the mirror above the sinks, gold paint flaking and peeling at the outer edges. For today’s mission: a tasteful turtleneck dress made of black silk, dark tights, a cropped wig, and ballet slippers, leaving a peppering of bronzer and highlighter as the final touch that made his cheeks shine like a brand new steak knife. Stilettos would've been a smart addition to what he was aiming for, but he knew after taking one look at those piked heels that they would slay his ankles long before they could do anything to the Komodo dragon he would be meeting up with soon.
Jekyll’s reflection twisted this way and that, but his gruff expression was almost a dead giveaway to his true identity. His golden eyes burned with scrutiny at the sight of himself standing in his disguise. He still looked more mannish (naturally) but this was the best he could do without over-doing it.
He swung his purse over his shoulder and cracked the door open a smidge to peek out at the hallway.
The dial above the elevator dinged and a set of crocodile guards appeared behind the sliver of the elevator door, escorted by the frazzled ostrich who jabbed a feathered finger in the direction of the bathrooms. He slid out of the bathroom and dashed past an army of hotel rooms, checking behind him every few seconds. He didn’t want to bring suspicion to the room he was staying at, so his only option was to go into another elevator, or find an unlocked hotel room on this floor, but fat chance of that happening.
“Come on, come on,” Jekyll violently pressed on the down button for the nearest elevator. Then he noticed the tiny signage in red font taped to the doors: OUT OF SERVICE. Jekyll cursed, abandoned the elevator and desperately jostled the doorknobs he came across as he ran, not caring if he disturbed the other guests.
All that was left at the end of the hallway was a small table with a vase and one wilting flower. Jekyll could already feel slick, cold dread trickle down his back. As soon as he heard the ostrich’s shrill voice, he turned his head and instantly spotted an open door with its pitch black interior beckoning him to come in. It seemed too good to be true, but he took his chances and barreled inside.
Jekyll crouched down on a rug, back against the side of the wall, and the door creaked slightly as he pulled it shut. What surrounded him now was absolute stillness, without light or sound, save the steady heartbeat beneath his ribs. Dust floated about his nose. The tumble of the guards’ feet and the patter of the ostrich were like an incoming thunderstorm to his ears, till they came to an utter stop right outside the door.
“Ma’am, every room on this floor is booked.” The female croc.
“What are you trying to tell me, that he vanished into thin air?” The ostrich.
“Good point. Christy, check the cameras. The footage won’t lie.” The male croc.
“Purposefully leaving the stall unlocked so I’d catch him in the act. Despicable. Young men should learn to restrain themselves in the face of classy, vintage ladies, such as myself.” The ostrich again.
Jekyll vomited inside his head, Ugh, it actually sounds like she’s into it.
The footsteps began to fade, till they were washed away completely by the bowels of silence in that room. Jekyll crept with slow movements, using his heightened night vision to survey for any obstacles in his path. His hand glided along the wall until his fingers met with what felt like a switch.
Jekyll held his breath, and flipped it on.
The room sparked to life. It was a cheap, two-person hotel room. Old sage wallpaper, wooden dressers, and burgundy carpet, with the obligatory bible tucked at the back of a drawer (and ten dollars beside James 1:20, which he pocketed; the verse he didn’t touch). In the middle of the room were two suitcases: one zipped tight and the other spilled on its side, dripping T-shirts and underwear all over the carpet. The blankets were flown off the beds, the chairs tipped over, and the curtains were perforated with cuts and holes, like they’d been dragged over sharp rocks.
The residual odor of a struggle still hung in the air.
Everything about this room set Jekyll’s fangs on edge, and fur prickled at the top of his spine. He went to the window, pushed aside the torn shades and peered down to see a fire escape ladder attached to the side of the hotel. Bingo.
With the windows all the way up, Jekyll’s top-half bent over the windowsill, reaching for a rail to help pull himself out.
The lights died. Before he could react, something had dug itself into his calf and wrapped around it, sending him soaring backwards. He landed with a crunch against the wooden door of the hotel room, the lights flashed on, and a grizzly bear towered over him, fires of hell swirling in her dark pupils.
Spit droplets flew onto his cheek as the grizzly roared, “WHERE IS MY BABYYY!?”
