Robert turns away from the window. With the knife firmly held in his hands, he strides across the darkened room to the side of his bed. He puts his shoes on and tucks his still-dead phone into his pocket. He then approaches the door as quickly as he can. He has to unlock it to get into the hallway, making him even more curious about where Galen could have gone.
This thought is pushed to the backburner as he looks around the hallway. It isn’t how he remembered it when he came to his room last night. The wallpaper is peeling in several places, revealing a black texture—mold?—that seems to sparkle when it catches the pale light coming in from the window at the end of the hallway. There is no light coming from overhead because all the bulbs have been burnt out. The glass shards have fallen to the torn-up, damp carpet. It’s like someone has aged the hallway by several decades, down to the very smell that permeates through the heat Robert trudges through.
He pounds his fist on the door across the hall. When no one answers, he tries for the handle. Even without a keycard, the door swings open. The only thing that’s wrong with this room is that no one is in it and there isn’t any technology. Instead of being aged like the hallway, it’s just missing its television, appliances, and even the lamp that was attached to the desk. It, therefore, does give the room a sense of oldness, like this is for an inn rather than a modern-day hotel.
Robert returns to the hallway to investigate the other rooms. They are all mirrors of each other, down to the fact that the lights aren’t coming on in any of them. Robert realizes now why his phone was still dead. It seems the hotel—or whatever simulacrum of it he’s stumbled into—doesn’t have any electricity running through it. For now, Robert is getting by with the fog-tinted light pouring in from the hallways, but he knows that it isn’t going to last for long. He needs to find a light source, even if it’s just a match.
He also needs to find Galen. Another person. Answers. There’s a lot Robert needs to do, and he’s left wondering if exploring the hotel is really the best option right now. He walks toward the window at the end of the hotel’s hallway. He peers out at the city, only seeing fog blanketing the streets. It seems thicker now than before. Robert knows Torrance well enough to have some assurance that he won’t get lost, but still, he’s as fallible as any other human. He could get turned around and never know it with how thick that fog is. But that’s definitely a risk he’ll have to take if he wants to get to SDN. An entire floor’s worth of people have disappeared, after all, which means it’s time to call in reinforcements.
Ding!
Robert whirls around, brandishing the knife in front of him. He knows it’s the sound of the elevator, but he checked all the rooms: who could’ve called it?
A dark figure at the end of the hallway, it seems. Robert hurries forward a few steps. The elevator settles before the person. As the doors slide away from each other, the figure glances over their shoulder. Robert freezes where he stands when he meets a pair of familiar blue eyes beneath dark eyebrows. His breathing picks up into a frenzied panic. He nearly drops the knife he’s still holding in front of him. Shroud—Eli, right now, with his casual clothing and observational expression—steps into the elevator. He points downward with one hand while the other presses a button. The maintained eye contact spurs Robert into motion. He starts running down the hallway, screaming, “Wait!”
Elliot does not wait. The doors shut completely. Breathing heavily, Robert looks upward. The elevator is going down. Robert doesn’t have time for it to drop Elliot off and come back up, so he bolts through the door to the stairs. His breathing and frantic footsteps echo throughout the stairwell. Robert even starts throwing himself down to speed up the process, desperately needing to beat Elliot down. This, unfortunately, causes Robert to nick his own skin on the knife he’s holding, but it’s only a little of his finger. The few drops of blood that mark his path are nothing for him to be concerned about when Elliot—when Shroud—is here.
Robert slams his shoulder into the door to the ground floor. He practically stumbles over his feet to get in front of the elevator. He doesn’t know how he beat it, but he’s listening to it settle. It feels like an eternity before the doors slide open. Robert prepares himself for a fight and a conversation, so he’s knocked back by the emptiness. Not just that, but the elevator’s interior doesn’t look the same as it did earlier, either. Even down the hall, Robert saw golden light and silver walls, but now he sees shadows and rust. Leaning forward, the buttons aren’t even glowing, and when Robert presses them, they don’t do anything. It’s like the elevator completely broke and was thrown forward in time when it settled.
Robert sighs, thumping his head against the metal plate above the buttons. Did he hallucinate Elliot? He must have. And all of this must be a hallucination, too. What the hell is Robert doing right now?
Finding Galen or another person. Real people. That’s his goal right now. Getting to SDN, too, but he just… he needs to make sure that between the work station and the breakfast area, there’s no one on the ground floor.
Robert walks to the eating area first. Like the rooms upstairs, there’s no technology, only furniture. The difference is that the lights are just gone. It’s like the ceiling swallowed up the places where a bulb might have been screwed into. The only reason Robert can see anything is because the far wall is entirely made from windows that lets the gray-white light pour in.
Finding no one there, Robert goes to the front desk. There’s no one sitting behind it. The computer is gone, too, and Robert knows for a fact there was one there when he and the other dispatchers checked in yesterday. He knows because the lady was having trouble with it, and she took him up on his offer to help. And because he was already back there, he doesn’t hesitate to throw himself over the countertop now. Whatever took all the technology, thankfully, missed the industrial-grade flashlight underneath the desk.
When Robert clicks the flashlight on, the entire underside of the desk is flooded with light. It reflects off the glossy ink of a paper left down here by the small trashcan. Robert sets the knife down to pick the paper up. He was only going to skim it until he catches a few familiar names—Red Ring members.
[Complaint From Cleaning Staff:] Boss needs to kick these freaks out yesterday. I’m just trying to do my fucking job, but they all keep getting in my way. That creepy psychic lady keeps laughing at me about shit she shouldn’t know while also locking me in every single room. Toxic has joined her in hazing me. That lightning throw or struck or whatever guy has burned down most of the furniture in his room. And don’t get me started on the rest of this circus! If we don’t get a bonus and a paid vacation, I’m quitting—I don’t care that Shroud says there’s only a 7% chance that I actually will!
Robert grabs the knife after he stuffs the paper into his pocket beside his phone. He doesn’t know why he takes it. The Red Ring are all imprisoned, so what does it matter if they spent time at this hotel? It must be a coincidence that SDN booked this place. After all, if he didn’t know the Red Ring were here with how obsessively he was looking into them, SDN definitely wouldn’t have.
Still, it’s something to keep in mind as he walks into the backroom in search of another person. The beam of his flashlight swings around the room. There’s a table in the center of the room covered in papers and overflowing cardboard boxes. There are paintings on every wall with bronze plaques that give their names, painter, and date of origin. If Robert were dropped into this room, he wouldn’t have guessed it was connected to a hotel. He’s almost certain it isn’t.
With that thought, he hears the sound of footsteps behind him. He whirls around. Although his flashlight is pointed right at him, nothing reflects in Elliot’s eyes. That alone should prove he’s a hallucination, but Robert can’t believe it when the man literally grabs the door handle and slams the door shut. Robert bolts across the room. He’s hardly able to use his hand while still holding the knife, and even then, he finds that it was useless because the door is locked.
Robert squats to look at the lock. It needs a number code. While Robert would be fine punching in random numbers for eternity just to get out, he knows this make and model. If he doesn’t put the right code in within five tries, he’ll be locked out completely. Someone else will have to come get him. With no one in the hotel, a terrible fog outside, and a dead phone, Robert knows not to trust that help is on its way.
He sighs. He turns toward the papers on the table. He sets his knife down within arm’s reach while putting his back to the far wall so he can face the door. He sets the flashlight beneath his chin to give him access to both of his hands without losing the light source. Robert starts flipping through the papers, searching for any hint or clue that will give him an idea of what the number code could be.
After a while, he finds a sticky note. Two people are having a conversation in black and red marker on the yellow surface.
[Note in Backroom:] I keep getting stuck in the backroom. Tip for remembering the code? I remember that it’s the last year of the painting that doesn’t belong. Does that help? Yes!! Thank you! I’ll get your coffee tmrw
Robert isn’t as sure as the person writing in black, but he turns his attention towards the paintings. He didn’t pay much attention to them when he first entered. Now, they have his undivided attention.
There are seven paintings: two on the wall with the door, one on each of the side walls, and three on the wall behind Robert. Five of the paintings have people in them with three of those being self-portraits of different people. The remaining two are both paintings of countryside cities. Looking at the names and painters, none of them are any more different than the others. Which one doesn’t belong?
Every color is on at least two paintings. The sizes are all different from one another. None of the artists’ marks are in unique areas. Which one doesn’t belong…
And, then, it hits him. He doesn’t know how he didn’t get it immediately. He steps right up to it, holding his fingers up to what’s different about this painting compared to all the others. In the background, flying in the sky, there is a divinity. The rest of the paintings are only of man and man-made things. Robert looks down at the plaque. A Dance to the Music of Time. Nicholas Poussin. 1634-1636.
Robert hurries over the door. As soon as he inputs 1-6-3-6, the digits flash a bright green. Robert pulls the handle down, swinging the door open. He steps back into the lobby. It has aged significantly in his time locked away.
A new addition has also been added. There’s a small radio sitting on the edge of the front desk. Robert can hear the static pouring out of it. With his knife in one hand and flashlight in another, he approaches the radio while swinging around the desk. As soon as he gets close, other noises begin to filter out of the static. “Robert… Robert… can—hear—? Listen! Listen well!... not much time… Don’t look up… you don’t need the stars… let them have no need of you… keep your eyes forward… tread your own path… as you always have… Promise me, Robert… We believe in you–!... don’t look up… you don’t need the—”
The radio suddenly shuts off. The sound of old gears groaning comes from deep within it. The box trembling grows into a heavy shaking. Metal contorts. The front suddenly bursts open. A black liquid spills forth like an unbounded flood. As it drains down, it reveals chunks of flesh and organs alongside the gears and wires. Tiny bugs and worms made from the same bright blue light as the butterfly are swimming and drowning in the blood, feasting upon the flesh and organs that don’t belong in a radio.
Robert stumbles back a few paces, creeped out by both the radio knowing his name and by the creatures inside of it.
If that wasn’t enough to make him leave, Robert hears the door opening. His nausea dissipates as he watches Elliot leaving the hotel. Although he should know better, Robert immediately races after him and enters into the fog.
It’s just as thick as he thought it was going to be. He loses Elliot for a few seconds. It’s only when the wind shifts the thickness that Robert sees Elliot standing in the middle of the street. Even when Robert gets audibly close, the man doesn’t walk away. Because of this, Robert can grab Elliot’s shoulder and turn him around.
That’s not Elliot.
A mechanical puppet with a metal face devoid of all features snaps its neck all the way around to look at Robert with emotionless red lights for eyes. The rest of its body jerks around, revealing that it isn’t all technology. Though the skin has been ripped away, rotting organs are being held in place by a moving—snapping—ribcage made from metal. Black blood drips to the ground, yet also seems to be smeared across the entire humanoid doll. Robert leaps back to put some distance between the two of them. When the puppet tries to swing at Robert, he shoves the knife into it. Immediately, the blade shatters. Robert drops the hilt and takes several steps back since he no longer has a weapon.
Before he can plan his next move, he sees a blue light reflect across the black blood and metal. He glances over his shoulder to find another creature coming up behind him. That blue light that made the butterflies and other bugs has been molded into a chimera, a mixture of so many animals that it isn’t really any of them. The closest Robert can approximate is that a big cat must be the base, like a lion or tiger. White plants grow right out of the creature’s backside, and fungus covers its eyes. A snake-like tongue lashes out of its gnashing maw.
Robert makes the wise decision to step out of the way right as the chimera leaps forward. Its claws crash into the chest of the mechanical puppet. While it manages to snap the front half downward, the legs remain stalwart. The mechanical puppet twists around to pop right back up. It throws its arm to the side. Muscle tendrils explode outward, covering a cannon that begins glowing with red energy inside the barrel.
Robert would join the fight if he didn’t notice more red and blue lights starting to glow from the fog. Horribly outnumbered, Robert turns on his heel to make a strategic retreat, searching for back-up or a suitable weapon.
He comes to a tree with a metal rod sticking out of it. There’s a street sign on the metal rod that points toward the left marked with the word, ‘PURGATORIO.’ The tree has a wooden plank leaning against the side. It points toward the right with the word, ‘INFERNO.’
Robert doesn’t know what street he’s on, but he knows for certain that this isn’t Torrance as he knows it any more than that hotel was, because what the fuck are these signs?
His shock morphs into battle-readiness when he hears the puppets and chimeras approaching him. Taking a deep breath, Robert comes to a decision.
He goes...
Left
Right
Back to fight the Puppets
Back to fight the Chimeras
