'If I may ask, gentlemen, is there a specific reason why you want to visit the plaza?'
Henri spoke with an undertone of irony; his question came off as redundant and full of disinterest in the answer. He made no eye contact with either party member, which made Alonso ponder the motive behind the stranger's actions even more.
Alonso and Yogi exchanged looks, telepathically discussing how they should respond to the man. 'We're merely travellers wanting to see what the city has to offer,' Yogi answered.
'We wanted to rent an apartment overlooking the plaza; we'll accept only the best view,' Alonso continued, playing along with this pretence of motivation.
'Is that so?' Henri said. 'In that case, you are in luck, for I know the owner of the very establishment that faces the plaza. Allow me to procure you rooms.'
The pair's faces twisted into one of true incredulity: this cannot surely be true, nor can it be pure coincidence; something is not right here.
'That is very kind of you; however, you've done so much for us already-'
'No, no, it would be my pleasure. Please, allow me to do this for you two; after all, it is only just down the street. No trouble at all, I tell you!'
Although persistent, Henri spoke with sincerity; this constant change in behaviour made it difficult to decipher his character. Neither Alonso nor Yogi could think of an excuse quick enough for departing from the man; therefore, they followed him down the street and towards the apartment complex, allowing him to continue on slightly in front.
In the distance, a man emerged from a building across the plaza. He looked to have been wearing the same police uniform as the men they crossed earlier. Yet, that wasn't the only thing familiar about this man. He started walking towards them and, as they grew closer, Alonso and Yogi recognised this man to be the very officer Henri had spoken to earlier. But how did he get there before them? They eventually crossed paths, and the officer shot a smile at them, which was replied to with a wave from Henri; they looked to be acting normal, but Alonso did not believe it for a moment. Refraining from speaking out prematurely, he kept his wits about him.
Passing the plaza, Yogi could not resist glancing over at the abundance of illumination to his left. Even in the daylight, the lampposts inside the plaza shone brightly with a multitude of vibrant colours. Walls had been erected from the ground, made solely of well-kept bushes, which met in the middle to form an entrance. The closer they got, the stronger the scent of fresh flowers invaded everyone's noses: blossom, lilac and roses. It was wonderful, almost inviting enough to make one float towards it. It was difficult to fully observe the life inside, yet the sheer volume of jovial cries alluded to blissful entertainment.
The gigantic red sign in front of the plaza maintained class and was not over-excessive in any way; in fact, it perfectly complemented the lively, energetic atmosphere that was entailed within. Yet, something didn't seem right to Yogi: it read 'Merris Plaza', but he could've sworn before it said-
'Here we are, gentlemen; after you,' Henri said as he held the door for Alonso and Yogi, ushering them in from behind.
Presented before them was the very building that the officer had exited from. It looked to be rather small, yet refined in all of its architecture. The lobby of the apartment complex was spotless; the wooden floor shone as if newly waxed. An aroma of powdery freshness lightly floated under their senses. The lobby assistant stood behind a matching wooden desk, which was placed close to the door; in fact, the whole lobby was quite compact, although a door did stand on the opposite wall, with a sign next to it saying 'HOT TUB / SUANA'. Bookcases lined all the walls, each complete with a variety of volumes for customers' tastes, as well as purple velvet chairs. It seemed as though Henri's summary of the residents here was true: they really do strive for perfection.
'Hello, good sir, I would like to get these fine gentlemen here a room with a view of the plaza, if possible.' Henri said to the man behind the counter.
'Of course, sir; right this way.' The man replied immediately. He looked to be incredibly young, with not a hair on his face. His submissive tone implied that he knew Henri and his status, propelling him to follow his orders without question.
The assistant led them across the lobby and up a winding staircase; the shiny wooden finish did not creak under anyone's feet. The staircase split off onto the second floor, but they ignored this and carried on ascending. Although they got only a mere glimpse of the floor, Alonso was surprised to see the amount of detail and attention put into making this building feel both complete and ideal. Paintings lined the walls, all placed in finely engraved gold frames; furthermore, from what he could tell, they too had been freshly recoated with wax, allowing the colours to coruscate in the dancing daylight.
They departed from the staircase on the third floor; an extensive corridor presented itself before them, looking to be infinite in length. It was almost wide enough for all four members to walk in a line; yet, upon short consideration, it felt almost impossible for the hallway to possess such a feat, considering the small size of the lobby below. If the hallway alone was around the size of the lobby, how small were the rooms?
They followed the assistant all the way to the other end of the corridor; they passed countless rooms, concealed by the same designed door all throughout. Observing his surroundings, Yogi saw that the hallway was like a mirror image of the one below; the very same carpet was laid along the floor, the same cabinets and flowers, and… even the same paintings? Although his view on the previous floor was brief, he could not help but find the two practically identical. He had been following the numbers on the doors, accumulating to twenty rooms passed on this floor alone, yet when he looked back for a moment, he felt as if there were fewer doors. Perhaps his superstitions had created a biased view on Henri and his decision to lodge them here, but it truly looked to him that only seven or eight doors now stood on either wall.
He was planning on speaking up about his concern to Alonso, but they had already reached the end of the corridor and now stood at room thirty-six. 'Allow me to show you in,' the assistant said, pushing the door open for the party. He held his smile as Yogi and Alonso entered, but responded to Henri's serious expression with only a nod of his head. 'If you need anything, just give me a call,' and with this, the assistant left, closing the door behind him.
The room itself surprised both Alonso and Yogi, for it extended far beyond that of the corridor. The wall with the window, seen previously in Nero's vision, seemed miles away, stretching across the entire room. A table and chairs sat in the centre, surrounded by a bed, bookshelves, and writing desk, all finished with a fine mahogany shine. The room was large enough for the entire party to stay in, with the floor being spacious enough to house another bed.
How is this possible? Alonso thought. This room alone shares nearly the same area as the entire building itself! Then, to confirm that this was, in fact, the correct place, he rushed across the room and leaned against the window. A faint glow emanated from his cheeks as he stared into the dazzling lights of the red plaza sign: the bold letters reading SANTA GRENIN PLAZA. There was no doubt in his mind now; this must have been Nero's room!
'Well, is it to your liking, gentlemen?' Henri asked. He approached the table in the centre of the room, slowly removing his long coat.
Alonso and Yogi shared a look of confirmation before nodding to one another. Although both on edge, it was hard to deny that this room and its positioning to the onlooking city were picture-perfect for what they had been looking for. Furthermore, Alonso quickly deduced that its sophisticated and polished design fit the assumed likings of Nero.
'Yes… this is perfect; thank you.' Alonso wanted to wear a smile of satisfaction, but feared that it would act as an indicator of vulnerability.
Yogi sat on the bed; initially, it was as solid and hard as metal, but suddenly deflated under him, causing him to sink comfortably inward. His analytical mind was restless: he felt that he could not be calm until everything felt normal and perfectly in place. Only the moonlight and a single candle had illuminated the room when he invaded Nero, meaning very little was truly seen then. Nevertheless, something still did not sit right with Yogi's intuition…
Henri placed his long coat on the back of a chair, followed by the removal of his smart hat. Underneath were the continuation of the bandages, which further concealed a large portion of his temple. His precisely combed hair was also half-masked, giving him the look of a vitally wounded soldier. Hitherto, the pair had not verbally questioned Henri on the meaning behind this extensive covering, marginalising their suspicious questioning and replacing it with a more reasonable explanation. This quickly changed, however, as Henri began to unwrap the bandages; as he pulled and extended one strand, the rest soon followed, unravelling all around his face.
'I must say, gentlemen,' he began, 'your company has been rather pleasant, although brief.' Finally, strokes of skin were revealed to the room. What rested on Henri's face would not be deemed "normal" by any, for it was of a dislikeable hue of pink-crimson, with patches of darkness, almost like burnt meat. It had a visibly uneven, rough texture, with many crevices and withered fragments of muscle, loose from his skull. As more bandages were removed, the exposure of horror rose: Alonso and Yogi felt sick simply looking at it.
'Alas, we must depart here, I am afraid. But… not before I receive my payment.' As he spoke, the final bandage fell, and an eye was revealed. A striking red pupil was surrounded by an eerie blackness; this was beyond the features of an ordinary person. It was devilish in nature, emitting an aura of pure death into the room. It was placed carelessly among the cluster of revolting flesh, completing the image of a half-faced demon. A sinister smile swept across his lips, and everything was made apparent; Alonso and Yogi's suspicions had been correct all along: this man was a threat.