Chapter 25 - Villain Hotel (1)
After the taxi cruised along the road for about two hours, the immense majesty of the Sky Island finally came into view.
It's enormous. No wonder they say it can support an entire city.
Back in my hometown of Moscow—well, Moskva—there used to be a Sky Island in the sky far larger than this one. Of course, it crashed due to some accident before I was even born, so I never saw it. But they say it plummeted right into the heart of the city, causing damage even greater than the LA quake that hit the coastline.
Why the hell did they float something that dangerous over Moscow? Was it to cast a shadow over the whole city, crushing any thought of rebellion against the dictator?
Those old folks.
From my current perspective, 22nd-century people just did the most baffling shit imaginable. They say the glorious 21st century wasn't like that. Hell, some who lived through it even claimed the dictator's era was the best!
To a bone-deep rebel like me, they're nothing but idiots from a pathetic generation of boomers too spineless to resist.
"U-um..."
Lost in thoughts of my homeland, I heard a mosquito-like buzz from the front seat. Shit, I should've stayed on guard. I gripped my pistol and aimed it back at the driver's head.
"What."
"H-heek! P-please spare me!"
"Ah, we're here already."
I thought I saw the Sky Island a bit ago, but damn, that was fast. Well, modern cars cruise at a steady few hundred kph, and this road to the island was empty anyway. Or maybe this bitch floored it like a jet, desperate to dump me off quick.
I pocketed the gun, opened the door, and stepped out.
"U-um! D-due to the new carbon regs, taxis can't use the instant teleport portals anymore..."
"Yeah? Tsk, nothing to be done. Go on, then. Oh, right—take this."
I pulled a wad of bills from my pocket—stolen from Min Eunjeong's purse before I left her slumped over. Not sure on the exchange rate, but this should cover it. Her face lit up, so yeah.
"Th-thank you!"
"Don't go snitching to the cops. I've got a unique ability to track you down and kill you anywhere. Even if they nab me, I can still rip you and your family apart."
"...Y-yes, sir."
She hesitated, so yeah, she was thinking about it. But her paling face said she'd dropped the idea.
"Now beat it for real."
"Y-yes!"
She peeled out in a hurry, vanishing into the distance. Who knows if she'll rat me out for real. I threatened her, but it might be heroes who show up, not cops.
Whatever. The Villain Hotel will handle it.
They built a whole hotel right here on the island, so they've gotta have bribes or countermeasures in place.
[Please enter the address.]
Heading to the teleport device for the hotel, I marveled at the fancy setup. Free to use, too.
Hotel perk, huh?
Normally only rich folks ride these. These guys are loaded.
Alright then.
I stepped into the elevator-like machine. It hummed with flashing lights, then flash—a burst right in my face.
Back when my organization was at its peak, I hopped these all the time. Until those damn superhumans ruined everything.
> [Arrived at Hotel Sylvania. We hope you have a pleasant night.]
The flashing stopped, and a dry voice echoed from the machine. Stretching my neck with a satisfying crack, I stepped out.
"Made it."
A massive hotel loomed right in front of the device, left exposed like a public restroom teleporter. Villain Hotel, right? Huge operation.
The exterior evoked a grand old French manor, and the line of luxury cars out front looked like a herd of rhinos on the savanna.
Gonna snag some of those emblems later.
Shaking off the dumb thought, I headed for the entrance. But as I got close, my skimpy outfit drew nasty stares.
Fucking trash.
I figured only Min Eunjeong would get horny for a body like this, but apparently there's demand.
"What brings you here?"
A long-bearded man approached as I strode up boldly.
"Looking for a room."
"I-I'm terribly sorry, but we're fully booked..."
Fully booked, huh. But the Status Window invited me here. And no normal hotel staff talks like a government drone: "What brings you?" Definitely the passphrase guy.
"That so? Where's the bar, then?"
"The bar? W-well, if I may intrude, you don't look old enough to drink..."
"I could go for a glass—or three—of 'whiskey.'"
"...!"
Bingo. The Status Window passphrase worked; his eyes changed instantly.
"...On second thought, we have one room left. This way, please."
"Got it."
He led me into the lobby, glanced around to confirm no one was watching, then whispered into a desk intercom. Too quiet to catch details, but the honorifics suggested reporting to a boss.
"All set. The bar's in your room. Then, 'have a pleasant night,' Ivan Sergeevich Ivanots."
"Huh."
He knows my name? Connected to the Status Window somehow? For now, I'd play along.
He handed me a key: Room 101, first floor.
'Have a pleasant night,' right?
I bolted to 101, unlocked it, and scanned the room. Luxuriously antique, begging me to flop onto the cloud-white bed.
But first.
I checked under the bed. Sure enough, a red button hid in the shadows.
I pressed it firmly. Rumble—vibrations filled the room.
"No idea how they built this underground on a Sky Island. Ironic as hell."
The vibration stopped. Spotless white marble tiles parted, revealing stairs descending.
"The bar, huh..."
Heart pounding, I descended.
The long stairs led to a vast space. I braced for musty warehouse stink, but it was fresh and fragrant instead.
"Hm."
The area screamed club— not modern, but that 21st-century vibe: dim lights, disco ball flashing, people dancing to fast beats. Each one probably a unique ability user. Villains, in other words.
"Are you Ivan Sergeevich Ivanots? The boss wants to see you."
A woman in a pale mask like the Phantom of the Opera's lead approached. Her outfit was wild: purple tights with jester bells, not a suit.
What kind of psycho wears that?
Her 'boss' must be nuts to have minions like this. Proper org uniforms are sleek black suits or crisp white like Macau sharks.
"Yeah, that's me. The boss summoned me?"
"She wants a word. Spare a moment?"
"Sure."
I'd follow for now. Worst case, activate my abilities, kill, and bolt. Plus, curious how she knew my name.
I trailed the jester chick like a duckling after mama hen to a private room deep inside.
"Boss, I brought the guest."
She knocked and murmured. Short silence, then the door flew open.
"Go on in."
I entered. Thick hookah smoke hit my nose.
Water pipe, huh.
That scent's unmistakable. But who still smokes this shit? Cigarettes went healthy a century ago thanks to med tech. Committed to the bit, I guess. Like a 21st-century throwback.
"Hng, smaller than on camera."
A clear voice—clipped like a news anchor—spoke from the haze. The presumed boss.
"Don't just stand there. Come here. Or on my lap?"
Pushing through the smoke, I saw her: mid-180s cm, taller and less muscled than workout freak Min Eunjeong. Sharp suit shirt and pants, unlike her clown minion. And those tits...
Fucking massive.
Min Eunjeong level or bigger; shirt buttons strained. White fabric showed hints of black bra and skin underneath.
"Pass."
"Oh? Kinda curt, aren't you?"
"You started rude."
Younger me would've blasted her face. Bratty temper and all.
"Westerners talk rough, huh?"
"Cut the shit. Why'd you invite me?"
"Hehe, curious about the hotel invite? First, what do you think a villain is?"
Ah, this fucking bitch, beating around the bush. Hate types who dodge straight talk, doling out riddles.
If I had the power, I'd slap her silly.
"Too vague. Answer: 'Just answer my damn question, you cunt.' Got it?"
"Huh."
Snapped like a rage addict flooring it, but felt good. Speak your mind or rot inside.
"Fine. Thought we'd chat before the drug kicks in..."
My strength melted away. Hot bath soak haze burned through me.
N-no way! When the hell did she dose me?
"Hnggg..."
"Guess we'll play with this one tonight."
Shit, again—AGAIN!