Disrespect your surroundings

“Fuck this all, that’s too fucking awesome!” Aya said, with her eyes glazed like she’d been watching a movie screen instead of listening to me.

“Of course it is,” I replied, stretching and sticking my head out the window, watching the white road lines whip under the car.

“How’d you know that fridge thingy would work?”

“No fucking clue,” I said, turning to eye the other moving cars. “Just figured it was the fastest way to waste three extras at once.”

“So you just improvised and that’s it?”

“Pretty much…”

Aya smacked the seat over and over like a kid hearing a bedtime story and refusing to sleep ‘cause it’s at the good part. “It’s so stupid! So stupid I fucking love it, they could’ve ended up scraping your pieces with a shovel, all to look cool for this psycho.”

“I’m not crazy. Crazy people never doubt their sanity, and I do sometimes,” Cher said, flicking her eyes between the road and rearview.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Aya waved her off, then turned back to me. “Incredible what you’ll do for a pair of tits…”

“Don’t simplify it that ain’t just tits… those are THE tits,” I said, flopping back onto the seats.

“Weird way of saying love at first sight.”

“Yeah, right? Though trust me, I gave them more than one look.”

“What the fuck… damn...” Aya muttered, dropping her forehead on the seatback. “Now I want someone to fall for me like that… at least I don’t need a goddamn neon sign to get it.”

The car slammed to a stop. I thought it broke down from me messing with the ignition earlier, but nah, we were parked in front of the hotel.
One of those glass-heavy, stupidly flashy spots built for rich fucks who won’t buy a house for some reason. As for the car, no breakdown, but Cher’s head looked like it was smoking, glowing cherry red.

“What’s her deal?” Aya asked, poking Cher’s cheek with her index finger. She was glued to the seat, hands clenched on the wheel.

“Ah… nothing, she always bluescreens like this when love comes up.”

“You telling me you never confessed in two fucking years?”

“Nah, I did, and it ended up like this. After that, I started doing it more just to fuck with her,” I said, hopping out. “Coming? We ain’t got much time.”

“And Cher?”

“Don’t worry abour it, her brain’ll reboot soon.” I circled to the trunk, grabbed our guns, yanked the jacket off irrelevant-ass Kaito’s corpse, and tossed it to Aya. “Put it on, at least it hides your ripped clothes. We’ll sort that later.”

“And you? You look like a beat-up hobo,” she said, catching it mid-air. “Ugh… smells like a damn morgue…”

“I’ll figure something…” I said, brushing past and slipping my phone into the jacket. “Handle check-in? One room, twelfth floor.”

“Huh? O-okay…” She sounded unsure but hustled into the building.

I leaned on the car side, waiting for Cher to snap out but this reboot was taking forever.

“Haaa… goddamn it…” I leaned into her window. “You good?”

“Y-Yeah…” she said, staring straight ahead, gripping the wheel thight.

“Come on… what the hell’s up?”

“Am I really that slow? I know I’m kinda twisted… but ain’t I just slowing everything down? Right?”

“Heh… not at all, dumbass…” I said, ruffling her hair. “This ain’t a romance series, no three-hundred-chapter wait…”

“Yeah… I know… but Hiro…”

“Nothing, shut up.” I caught her eye in the mirror. “Don’t you dare say some sappy bullshit.” I pulled my hand away and opened her door. “Notice we’re being tailed?”

“Since halfway through that fucking flashback,” she said, shaking her head and climbing out.

“Then let’s head in, love talk on hold.” I took her hand, leading her to the hotel.

“I ain’t some fucking teenager, shit…”

“Nah, but you know… in shit like this, the one dropping the romantic line always dies first.”

“Uh… another of your bullshit rules?”

“Call it sixth sense, just no ghosts, for now.”

“Eeeh… ghosts ain’t real, but werewolves are,” she said, letting me pull her along.

“Not explaining the first, not asking about the second.”

The lobby was stupidly wide. Four elevators, two per side.
The desk guy—who I assume gave Aya the room key—was lost in a newspaper.
Who the fuck reads physical papers these days?
Too goddamn convenient.

I hit the elevator button. Cher and I stood silent, watching the numbers light up slow as hell.

“Hiro.”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna fuck?”

“What the fuck did you just say?” I asked as we stepped in and punched twelve.

“If you wanna fuck.”

“Yeah, no—I mean—Aah… look… not like this.”

“You always bitch we never do it… maybe that’s the problem.”

“Don’t mind not doing it… mind you fucking other people,” I said, leaning on the elevator wall.

“It’s for the dopamine… don’t mix shit up…” she said, arms crossed against the opposite wall.

“Then fuck, I’ll buy you one of those sex toys or whatever, boom, problem solved. You get your dopamine, I skip shooting morons.”

“The one I pick? ‘Cause I saw this tentacle one in a shop, guy said it even had auto-movements.”

“Uuh… yeah… if you want… fuck, I never get used to your weird-ass fetishes.”

Aya left the room door cracked so we’d know where to go: normal.
The not-so-normal-at-fucking-all? Dead silence in the whole hallway, no murmurs from other rooms… y'all following me? Meant one thing: No matter what went down, nobody was coming out.

Aya was sprawled on the bed when we got there, barely noticing us. “Haaaaaaa… slowpokes, what the fuck were you doing?”

“Hiro’s buying me a battery-powered sex tentacle,” Cher said, beelining for the bathroom.

“A WHAT!?” Aya’s eyes bugged out like they’d roll across the floor.

“Ignore her… We got bigger shit now.” I stood by the window.

“What’s up?” Aya vaulted off the bed, peering down at the street. A few blocks off, a caravan of vehicles.

“Looks like they found out Watermelon Guy ain’t coming back, don't know how they knew we’re here, probably someone forgot to mention post-flashback.”

“Watermelon Guy? Oh… Kaito…?”

“Eh, same diff, a reader nicknamed him that, and it sticks…” I said, staring at the cars, counting heads per vehicle.

“Uhm… Hiro.”

“Yeah.”

“By your logic… bad guys always roll up in black SUVs…”

“That’s exactly what’s bugging me right now.”

“Why?” she asked, smooshing her face to the glass, fogging it up and puffing her cheeks. No clue why she pulled that dumb shit, but it suited her.

“You said it, ‘bad guys’… and we ain’t exactly the good ones of the story.”

Y'all get what I mean, right?
No fucking clue what kinda people were coming for us.