“Hi," Ava said. She held out her hand to shake it, and it took it gently.

“Oh, yes, hello," said Ahana. “Nice to meet you. Having fun here?”

“Not at all. These old men are so boring.”

“Yes, exactly. They have nothing to talk about except work," replied Ahana.

“They have nothing to talk about except work because their wives never want them home.”

Ahana laughed, his sharp teeth receding inside so he wouldn’t accidentally bite his tongue. He smiled, and Ava felt that minus the teeth, he was handsome. She considered that instead of killing Ahana, he could finance her revenge instead.

“You’re wonderful. I’m Ahana. What's your name? Are you new to this kind of scene?”

Ava started to relax the more she talked to Ahana, easily swayed by another sociopath in a suit.

“It’s Ava. I’m here filling in for someone who usually comes to these events for work.”

“Well, you should get used to this sort of boring conversation if you want to work your way up," said Ahana. “This is a shark tank, except with business cards instead of blood.”

Ava laughed, which made Ahana sure that he would get her alone.

Her laugh sounded genuine because it was.

“Did you come here alone," asked Ahana.

“Yes," she sighed. She tried her hardest to sound sad and lonely. “I couldn’t find anyone to come with me."

Ahana stepped closer to try and bridge the gap between them.

“That’s hard for me to believe. I would love to go anywhere with you," Ahana said, laying it on thick.

Ava’s cheeks burned and she took a bite out of her sushi.

“Thanks."

Ahana noticed that she looked nervous, so he tried to make her relax.

“Do you want some wine," asked Ahana. “It helps with the nerves. You must be nervous since it's your first time here."

“It's better than beer!"

“So come up to my room and have some,” Ahana offered.

Ava tried not to make a face because it was so ridiculously easy. Ahana was not shy at all, and Ava was worried she might have to actually sleep with him.

They left the ballroom and got into the hotel elevator. Like the rest of the hotel, it was high-end, with glass for the walls, and the carriage was filled with sparkling lights and relaxing music.

“What do you do for a living Ava,” asked Ahana.

“I just work for Triangle Corp," said Ava. “What do you do?”

Ahana smiled again, his pointy teeth sticking out.

“You really don’t know who I am," asked Ahana.

She felt embarrassed even though she already knew who he was, and what he did, and stuck to the script.

“A co-worker couldn’t go so I came in their place," replied Ava. “That’s all."

Ahana was now very interested in Ava. Finally, a woman who didn’t know who he was, and wouldn’t chase him for money.

He had to have her.

“Should I know who you are," asked Ava, trying her best attempt to look stupid.

She knew that men like him liked their women smart, but not too smart. Ahana gave her a skeptical look, knowing her game.

“Don’t worry about it," he said. “We’re trying to escape work after all.”

With a soft ding, the elevator door opened and people streamed in.

Ahana pushed himself to the front and pressed the button for the fifteenth floor. Ava stood next to him, holding herself close to him to avoid the people coming into the elevator. Ahana mistook this for flirting and held her closer, and she let him, anything to make him believe. She pressed herself closer to Ahana, and he was more than happy to hold her close in the elevator.

As the elevator went up higher, Ava started to wonder if it was a good idea to kill a man that had done nothing wrong to her. She had just met him, and he was the one thing standing between her first major paycheck.

She didn’t have enough time to think about it, because, with another soft ding, they were at their destination. She followed behind him, clutching her purse, eyes widening, hoping that something would stop her, some sign would tell her not to kill him.

Ahana got out his key card, swiped it, and the door opened, letting them in. The inside was more akin to a fancy apartment than a hotel. It overlooked the city and Paradis’ perpetual sunset twinkled over the horizon.

A singular hallway led down to a bedroom, separated by a singular wall, and then a living room outfitted with a small kitchen. Ava took off her heels and made herself comfortable on one of the modern couches next to the electric fireplace.

Ahana offered her a drink, and she took it, now reckless, trying to find a reason not to kill him, hoping that he wasn’t like the others, but still, there was no reason she could come up with other than it would make her feel bad. Feeling awkward and guilty she stared at the large fern in the corner, asking it for salvation.

Ahana went into his mini-fridge and brought out a bottle that looked very fancy, and very old in an attempt to impress Ava. She didn’t notice, and when she didn’t say anything Ahana was upset.

What kind of woman wasn’t impressed with his wealth?

Now he wanted her even more, as she was a challenge to be conquered.

Ahana sat next to Ava and put his arm around her. Ava let him get closer to her and tried to relax. Ahana seemed that he was easier to pretend to like instead of Alto, and decided not to kill a stranger in cold blood for revenge money.

She leaned in and kissed Ahana, pretending he was a tomato, whenever she had to kiss someone she didn’t really want to. She tried to balance the drink with her hand as Ahana pushed her close. She gently pushed him away, spilling wine all over the floor.

“Wait… a minute," said Ava.

Ahana jumped back in surprise.

“Did you not like it," asked Ahana. “I am so-”

“No, no, I just spilled the drink on the floor."

Ahana relaxed once he saw the wine on the wooden floor.

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s just enjoy each other.”

Ahana took the glass out of Ava’s hand and put it on the ground. He picked her up and placed her in his lap. Ava kissed him, and quickly she had all but forgotten about her job. They kissed on the couch, and Ahana rubbed her thigh, trying to work his way up her dress, which soon came off.

“Wait,” she gasped. “Stop."

“What’s wrong? Are you shy?"

“You’re forgetting something," she said. “We need...to be safe.."

Ahana wasn’t going to argue because he told himself that it was just a minor bump until he could finally bump uglies. Ava noticed he was erect when he stood up and tried to avert her gaze, again staring at her trusty friend, the plant in the corner. Ahana left, quickly as he was on a new mission.

Ava realized that she was half-naked on a stranger’s couch and that she wasn’t really Ava.

Nero quickly put the dress on and stumbled through the apartment, searching for the purse. Ahana’s words repeated through his mind as he scrambled through the suite.

“I don’t let anyone or anything stop me from getting what I want."

He knew that Ahana was just another Luoh and that she would have the same problems as Alto with Ahana. It was better to stick with the devil he knew than the one he didn’t.

Nero finally found the purse, on the ground near the doorway to the hallway. He picked it up and stumbled over to the couch. The wine was starting to take its effect and Nero wasn’t handling it well and tried to make it back to the couch without accidentally shooting the gun.

Ahana came back, a bottle of lotion in his hand but no safety equipment, and found Nero sitting on the couch with his purse.

“Are you leaving already," said Ahana. “Please don’t be shy.”

“That’s not it," said Nero. “That's not it at all.”

Ahana walked over to the couch and sat next to him.

“Then what’s wrong? You are a kind woman. You can tell me anything," said Ahana. Nero began to cry and shook his head.

“Remember when you said that you wouldn’t let anyone get in the way of what you wanted," said Nero. “I feel the same way too."

Ahana hugged him and kissed his cheek. “There is no reason to cry then," said Ahana. Nero opened the purse and tried to shuffle through it, looking for the gun. “We can stop if you want,” said Ahana.

“You are a good person," said Nero. “You understand, right ?”

“I understand," said Ahana. “We went too fast anyway.”

Nero found the gun in the mess of makeup inside the bag. Its cold metal felt strange in his hands, but he knew that he had to finish, or else this chance would never come back to him.

A soft click could be heard as Nero took off the safety. Ahana glanced around trying to figure out where the noise came from.

He looked down and saw the gun in Nero’s purse.

Nero shot Ahana through his jaw, and he fell over on top of him, blood pouring all over the couch and his dress.

Nero shrieked, over and over, louder, surprised by the loud sound the gun made when it went off. He screamed as Ahana’s blood poured out of his jaw and onto the couch. It poured all over Nero’s body, soaking his purse, dress, and legs.

Ahana was still alive, and he tried to grab onto Nero. He couldn’t see straight but managed to push him down in an attempt to get the gun. Nero screamed and screamed as Ahana tried to grab onto him, but his grip was weak from the gunshot, and the blood made everything slippery.

Nero shot Ahana again, in his cheek, and his screams were almost as loud as the sound itself. Blood poured out of Ahana’s mouth and all over Nero’s face as he sobbed in disgust. Like a waterfall it drenched his body, covering whatever part of him was left that was clean. It got into his mouth, and Nero cried even harder, as it tasted like fish.

Nero tried to push him away with his free hand, but it was impossible. All the blood made him too wet to grab. He shot him again, this time in the stomach, and finally, Ahana’s body went limp and fell on top of him. Nero pushed his body off of him, and tried to get up, but slipped on the blood on the floor.

The gun accidentally went off, along with a final scream, and a bullet was left in the wall.

Careful to not slip on the floor again, Nero grabbed the gun and put it in his purse. He grabbed onto the couch and tried to avoid Ahana’s body. As he passed by it, Nero heard an unmistakable sound, and the smell of feces filled the air.

A new lesson on human anatomy was learned that evening.

Exhausted and terrified, Nero made his way to the bathroom and tried to figure out how to leave the hotel without causing a scene. He shuffled through his purse and saw that most of the blood got onto the makeup, but not the shorts and t-shirt he put in.

“ Thank the gods," sighed Nero.

He got into the bathroom, and using the terrible hotel-provided soap, he tried to scrub all the blood off of his body. He scrubbed as hard as he could, but he couldn’t get the blood out from under his fingernails. He cried as he realized that he probably wasn’t going to make it back alive.

After crying in the shower, he finally exited when the water became too cold to bear. Nero dried off, eyes trying to scan the room for something to stare at, missing the trusty plant that was now a witness to a crime.

He threw the towels on the ground and inspected his face in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, either from all the crying or possibly too much wine.

The suite’s doorbell went off.

Nero began to breathe heavily and fast. He threw up what little wine and food was in his stomach and started to cry again as a voice called out from down the hallway.

“It's one of the managers," yelled a voice. “Someone heard gunshots and wanted me to come to check up on you!”

The knocks got louder on the door and Nero became more frantic. He rinsed out his mouth and quickly put his clothes on. It was time to pretend to be someone else again, someone who didn’t just kill a man in his hotel.

Nero walked down the blood-streaked hallway and opened the door.

Standing at the door was a man in dress pants, a clean white shirt with a green tie. He looked annoyed at having to wait so long. Nonetheless, he tried his hardest to plaster his customer service smile onto his face.

Nero opened the door only wide enough so that he couldn’t see any blood left on the floor. “Sorry," mumbled Nero. “I was in the bathroom."

Immediately the man softened and realized that he was being rude.

“It is okay young man, I am just checking up on a complaint.”

“Ah, okay," said Nero. “Don’t worry. Everything is fine. It was just the TV."

Nero gripped the doorknob and tried to smile, but it didn’t look very convincing.

“Wait a minute," said the man. “Isn’t this Mr. Ahana Hori’s room?”

Nero’s eyes got wide and he started to shake. His lie quickly fell apart, and he was going to prison for a very long time.

The hotel manager noticed the look on Nero’s face and sighed.

“It’s okay young man, don’t worry about it," he said. “You are a prostitute, yes?”

“I… yes…”

“Don’t worry about me reporting anything. You guys bring us great business at the hotel.”

The manager got out his business card and gave it to Nero. Nero quickly put it in his pocket and muttered a quick thanks.

“Don’t worry about it," said the manager. “If you ever want to know when I’m on shift, call me. I will make sure you can keep working in privacy." The manager walked off, and Nero shut the door.

“What the fuck,” Nero shuddered. “What the fuck?”

Nero quickly grabbed the purse and stuffed the blood-stained clothes inside it. They barely fit, but Nero knew it was better than nothing. He put on his heels and made a run for the elevator.

On his way down, an old man got into the elevator and watched him with a strange look. Nero’s heart raced as terror and adrenaline filled his blood, worried that he didn’t get all the blood off of his body. The old man tried to find the right words before he spoke, wanting to give his sage advice to a young stranger.

“I have a funny brother like you. Always with heels. Don’t worry about it, you look fine." Nero’s terror soon turned to confusion. He laughed nervously in the elevator as it went all the way down to the lobby.

“T-t-thank you, sir," said Nero.

“You should try a little bit harder though," said the old man. “No one will think you’re a girl just because of the heels. You got these shorts on! Tsk ."

Nero’s laughter simply increased as he tried to hide his confusion.

He silently prayed that he would meet more degenerates on his way to the parking garage so that no one would question him, or just agree with whatever crime he was committing.

When a soft ding could be heard and the elevator opened in the lobby, Nero ran as fast as he could to the parking garage. He ran awkwardly in his heels, like a newborn giraffe, through the hotel lobby, burst through the parking garage doors, and tripped down the stairs onto the cold pavement.

Struggling to stand, Nero, made his way through the cars to the aisle that the driver said he would be waiting in. There he was, smoking a cigarette and using his phone. When the driver saw him, he looked shocked and confused.

“You’re back? How are you alive,” Mr. Mata asked. He put out his cigarette and led Nero to the car, hobbling, his knee and ego bruised from the stumble.

“I’m fine," grunted Nero. “Did you think I wouldn’t come back?”

Mr. Mata put Nero’s seat belt on and sat him up straight after he helped him get into the car. He smelled like strong soap, but his breath smelled like bile and alcohol. Mr. Mata got into the front seat and prepared to leave.

He wondered what he would tell his boss because he wouldn’t be happy that Nero had lived. Maybe he should lie? Mr.Mata decided to tell his boss the truth.

Alto Feardocha was never happy about anything anyway.