It’s funny. No matter what you’ve seen, or how old you are, or what you’ve experienced, you can still learn new things almost each and every single day.

For example, today I learned two things.

That orgies can be skin-wrenchingly sticky.

And that two men riding on the back of a white stallion, in the middle of the day, with a massive suitcase between them, tends to draw stares from the crowd they’re trying to pass through.

Who knew?

“We’re almost there. You remember the plan?” I ask Spike, the hotel finally looming into view, getting ever closer.

“Yeah, I remember. Grab the Mrs, run upstairs, chuck her in. Easy peasy.” He says.

I nod, pulling Gimpie up to the steps of the hotel. A few fellow guests stare, taking in the sight before them, before they turn and carry on with their day. Spike and I quickly untie the Mrs from Gimpies back, Spike heaving her up the steps and into the hotel. Spike half-walks, half-jogs in, the bag now visibly wriggling as the Mrs starts fighting against the bag. I see a part of the zipper pop open, a slender, manicured finger poking out of the hole. I run up to stand next to Spike, blocking the view of the bag from the reception area, giving the cute receptionist behind the desk a tip of my hat on my way past. I hear her giggle behind me, as we make our way quickly to the stairwell.

We quickly duck into the stairwell, leading up to the second floor. We take the stairs two steps at a time, the soft, red carpet that makes up the floor of this cheap hotel cushioning the sound of our frantic footsteps.

I hear a noise coming from the bag, and I look down at it, just in time to see an arm fly out of it and latch onto Spikes’ leg. Spike stumbles and lets out a short shout of surprise, as he frantically tries to kick her off of him. Her arm frantically crawls further up his leg, seeking out his crown jewels. He lets out another cry, tripping over the last step and dropping the bag onto the ground. I turn around, checking to see if the coast is clear.

Not a single guest in sight.

“Jack, help me here!” Spike says quietly. He dodges away from the second arm, bursting out of the same hole as the first, both arms twisting and seeking their target. The bag strains against the pressure, still holding back the beast within for now.

“What am I supposed to do?!” I ask quietly, jumping away from a furious swipe.

“Just open the door so I can throw her in, dammit.”

“Fine, fine.” I say, skirting past the furious bag and walking towards the door. I reach into my pocket, searching for the key. Finding nothing, I check the other.

Nothing.

That can’t be right? I check the first pocket again, finding nothing but a small lighter and some small change. I go back to the second pocket, finding it just as bare, the pack of cigarettes and my phone hiding nothing underneath them.

“Spike, do you have the key?”

“You locked up this morning, so no.” he says, giving a small kick to the wandering hands. I hear a muffled cry from within the bag, followed by the arms stopping their wandering. After a second, they start again, trying to pull the bag open.

I check my pockets yet again, coming up with nothing.

I feel a sinking feeling in my stomach, as the realization hits.

“I think I lost the key…”

Spike turns to me, a hint of anger in his eyes.

“You did what?” he asks, a slight edge creeping into his voice.

“I said… I think I lost the key.”

He lets out a groan, scratching his head and giving the suitcase another small kick.

“Fuck, man! Wait here. Watch her. I’ll go down and ask for a spare. If they charge us a fee, it’s coming off your cut!”

“Fine. Fair enough. Just hurry, She’s getting a bit antsy.” I say, as I dodge another grapple attempt from the bag. The noises coming from it is starting to get louder. It seems she found an otherworldly source of energy that’s giving her a kind of second wind. I’m slightly impressed, after all the physical activity she’s been doing I’d expect her to be exhausted but she just keeps on going.

Spike groans again, turning back to the stairwell and giving me a quick wave. He hops down the steps, three at a time, and his body quickly ducks out of sight.

I let out a sigh, and turn back to look at the bag.

She’s pulled her arms back in, and has stuck her head out of the hole she managed to make. She’s looking around, trying to find a way to break the bag further. She turns her attention to me, and we lock eyes for a second.

I can see the fury in her eyes. She’s not happy.

She starts shaking her head from side to side, screaming as loud as the gag allows her to.

“Hey, better quit that now. The harder you make things for us, the worse it’ll be for you.”

She stops and looks at me, her face a mask of rage.

I crouch down, bringing my face closer to hers.

“We didn’t have to gag you. You made that choice, not us. I’m sure it’s uncomfortable, but it’s needed. Don’t make things harder for yourself.”

Suddenly, I hear a click coming from in front of us. We both turn to look at the source of the noise, the Mrs turning as far as she can, but she’s facing the wrong way from the source. I see one of the other doors in this corridor’s handle push down, as the door swings inwards.

I curse quietly, and see the Mrs face light up with hope as she realizes what’s happening. She starts screaming as loud as she can, hoping that whoever is coming will hear her.

Shit.

“I’ll be back in a minute, just gotta fetch something from the store quick!”, I hear someone say from inside the room. Sounds male, probably mid-30s.

Not good.

I grab the bag, pushing the Mrs head back in with as much force as I can. I fling the bag against our door, the hole she made pointing towards it, blocking her from pushing her head out again. I pull out my phone from my pocket, opening the feed app and clicking on the first video on the page. Some Korean news report starts playing, something about the war, the english subtitles flying across the bottom of the screen. I turn the volume up as loud as I can, sitting down on the bag as heavily as I can to prevent it from moving.

I lean my back against the door, my hand resting just over where my gun holster is.

Just in case things get ugly.

A second later, he comes out the room. Definitely mid-30s, slightly overweight, in a green collared shirt with khaki shorts. Possibly 200lbs, his steps are heavy, meaning he probably isn’t fast on his feet. His hands are tucked into his pockets, relaxed, his shoulders slouched as if he spends too much time in a chair. He regards me for a second, our eyes locking as sounds from the news feed mixes in with the sounds of the Mrs’ muffled screaming. For a second he hears it, I can see the moment he hears it. That slight sound that doesn’t seem quite right, the muffled screaming that doesn’t belong with a news feed. My hand slowly goes towards my waistband, as his step falters.

“Afternoon.” He says, giving me a curt nod. The man starts walking again, his brain accepting and associating the noises he’s hearing to my phone.

“Afternoon.” I say back to him, giving him a curt nod. I let my hand slip from my waistband, feeling that the moment has passed and I’m safe for now.

The man walks to the stairwell, and I watch him slowly disappear down it. A bead of sweat drips down my neck, as my adrenaline levels start leveling out.

A moment later, I see a familiar, bald head peek up from the stairwell.

Spike.

I get up from the bag, the Mrs wriggling furiously as she tries to escape again. “Did you get it?” I ask.

He pulls out a set of keys from his pocket, attached to a massive wooden keychain with our number on it.

“Cost us a hundred credits. Oh, sorry, did I say us? I meant you.” he says, flicking the keys towards me.

“Yeah, yeah. Take it from my cut.” I say, catching the keys mid-air, as I turn towards our door. I slide the key inside the lock, feeling the tumblers part underneath it. I give it a twist, and the door clicks open.

“Let’s just get her inside.”