Episode 18-3: The Closer You Look, The Less You See

It's a modest-looking place, the motel. It isn't rundown or top quality, it's right in the middle of that. We all approach the front counter with a young-looking human man sitting behind it. Clyde stops walking midway and keeps Sandy with him, letting me do the talking as usual.

"Can we get a room?" I ask, "One room for the three of us, two beds at the very least."

The man is pleasing as he returns dialogue. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid the rooms we've got left are single beds only."

"Oh," I say, my smile fading purposely, "it's very urgent that we have two beds. Any suggestions?"

He skims his fingers over the opened ledger sitting in front of him. "Hmm, your only other option is to rent two rooms instead of one if you wish to have your conditions met."

That answer doesn't satisfy me. This mission is different in the sense that the only resources given to us are the gadgets in our holsters, and we can't afford to shell out extra money if it's coming directly from our pockets. I turn to Clyde, giving him a 'can I flirt our way?' face. He gives me a small nod, telling me it won't hurt our relationship. I'm not cross-dressing today, but maybe I can use my boyish charm...if I have any.

I lean on the counter, elbows propping up my chin. "Mm-hm. I'll be honest, we can't afford two rooms at the moment. Perhaps we can work something out?" I make sure that my fluffy tail is visible to him from behind the counter. The tail plays a big role!

He seems taken back, unprepared for my resting eyes fixing firmly on his. "Uh, no, I'm sorry, sir, we can't do deals. Prices are set, I'm really sorry that I can't help you."

I giggle girlishly, "How cute. Everything is negotiable, as long as both parties are happy in the end. Don't you think?"

A rosy shade crawls on the man's cheeks. "I, uh, sure. I mean no. Happy? That's a different case, ma'am, I mean sir! Sorry, I meant sir. I don't know why I called you ma'am..."

That's it, he's stuttering, go for the kill! "It's okay, I get it, I've got feminine features." I lay my hands on the table and spring into a standing position. "Oooh, I've got an idea! What if we pay the charge for a room with two beds, and you supply us with an extra bed in one of the free rooms? It's a steady deal that's fair for all, what do you think?"

He loosens his tie, his nervous eyes darting to and fro. "Um, that technically is a standard rate, and supplying a bed is easy. Well, I-"

I spring off the table and act giddy. "Yes? Oh thank you so much, you've really saved us tonight!"

He chuckles softly, a grin accompanying his blush. "Oh, okay. Yes, I'll give you room 106 on the lobby floor, and I'll get the bed set up for you immediately." He grabs the key and hands it to me, his hand feeling slightly clammy.

"Thank you, I'll find a way to repay your kindness," I tell him. As I turn my back and begin walking to Clyde and Sandy, a loud rustling noise happens behind me, and I feel a tiny sting on my butt. I jump in shock, but I keep the yelp I wanted to make inside. The man had reached over his desk and given me a quick pinch. Clyde immediately scowled and threatened to step forward, but his better judgment told him to stay back.

I whip around, rubbing the pinched spot. "Ow! How forward of you."

I see his smile go away and his eyes turn wide. "I'm sorry, I just--I've never seen a boy like you before. I, um-- and that tail...I'll get that bed now."

"No harm, no foul," I say casually, looking behind me to check on Clyde.

He leaves hurriedly to a Staff Only door, quietly mumbling to himself about his actions. Clyde watches him every step of the way, waiting for him to disappear completely.

Clyde grits his teeth, "Douchebag."

"Wow," Sandy says, "you're kind of a slut, Troy."

I stick my tongue at him. "At least we got what we wanted."

He sticks his tongue back at me. "Why did we need a one-room-two-beds setup so badly?"

Clyde throws his arm over Sandy's shoulder. "So we can watch you closely. You think we're dumb enough to give you your own privacy?"

All three of us head into the room. It's small, and it'll only get smaller with an additional bed on the way. But that's fine, I'm not planning on staying here for long. Clyde sits on the bed with Sandy, and I find a table against the wall to read the file comfortably.

"What're we dicking around here for, guys?" Sandy asks, playing with a pocket knife we didn't know he had.

"Residual," Clyde simply says.

"What?"

"Jack and Abby checked in here, but they didn't check out. They must have left a trace, even better, some equipment lying around in their room. It's our first lead."

"And they're in room 213, most likely the second floor," I tell them.

Sandy switched from the knife to flipping a coin. "Great. You guys go check it out, I'm gonna watch t.v."

Clyde nonchalantly kicks at Sandy's back, knocking him off the bed with little effort. "No dice, Mr. D&D. You're coming with us."

Sandy rubs his butt as he stands up. "D&D. Classic. It's because of my glasses, yeah?"

*** *** ***

The receptionist seems to be the only one in the building as far as staff goes. He's busy setting up the frame and mattress for us, so now is the perfect time to do some investigating. Like a hundred times before, my manicured nail slips into room 213's lock and teases the tumblers until they set and turn. We all walk into a seemingly normal room.

"You know," Sandy starts, "if you weren't a spy, you'd probably do good as a thief."

I choose to ignore him. "Alright, everyone get started. Sandy, we're looking for trace evidence or strange gadgets, let us know if you find anything suspicious."

He gives me a mocking salute and starts looking through the closet. Clyde begins at one corner and follows the grid, and I begin on the opposite side of Clyde. It doesn't take long for Clyde to find a special gadget called The Travel Cube; its purpose is to keep all of the unit's gadgets hidden away in a small, decorative cube.

"I found their Travel Cube. Anything on your end?" Clyde asks me.

"I found scuff marks on the carpet, but I'm not sure if it was a struggle. I don't think they were taken from here."

"Yes, they were," Sandy says, "I found something over here by the closet."

Clyde and I join him by the closet doors, but when we get there, there's nothing of interest.

Clyde huffs, "What are you playing at, Sandy? There's nothing here, and we don't have time to humor you."

He only smiles and says, "You need me. Watch." Slowly, he runs his hand over the carpet, again and again, just hovering his palm like he's petting something invisible. It takes a few seconds, but particles of blue light begin to appear between his hand and the floor, and just like that, a scorch mark is revealed on the carpet.

"Whoa," I say, completely stunned by his advanced gadgets, "that's some technology you have there."

"Not technology, magic. These marks are the aftermath of a teleportation spell. If your old buddies are non-magic users, chances are someone else teleported them out."

He keeps saying magic as if he really believes in it. Magic isn't real, he's using science, he has to be. "Magic?" I ask.

"Yes, detective, magic. The magic of Zooh, to be precise. It's real, some people have it, they're born with it, and others aren't."

"Stop being silly, you can't seriously believe that you can trick me into thinking a fantasy idea is real? I don't know what gadget you're using, and I don't really care as long as it works."

He stands up and turns to Clyde, "Has he always been this stubborn?"

Clyde shrugs. "Not the point. This...teleportation residue, you can track this?"

Sandy cleans his glasses. "Yes, but without my mana, I'll have to physically track it down, follow the wave patterns, and all the joyous labor. Basically what I'm saying is there's gonna be more walking."

"Then let's hop to it," Clyde says, rotating his neck to loosen up.

"Yeah, I'm not much of a walker. Hate it, really. We should have a little break, we just got here. I brought that book I bought too."

Clyde smiles. "It's cute that you think you have a say in the matter. Come on, you're leading the pack on this one."

He sighs, "Of course, there's no break. The universe would never be that nice to me."

Sandy closes his eyes, not too tight, but just enough for a restful face, and places his hands next to the sides of his head. He extends two fingers, index and middle, and slowly inches them towards his temples. They make contact, and when he opens his eyes again, they've changed color. His once brown eyes are now a bright blue, and honestly, they're quite beautiful.

"Oooh, that's a neat trick," I admit.

"It's for clairvoyance, I'm going to use this sight to see the invisible trail of the teleportation. Luckily it's a novice spell, so I can keep this going for a long time."

"Spell, yeah, whatever, just go."

He clicks his tongue at me in annoyance. "You should have a more open mind, Troy. It'll suit you better."

He begins his march out of the motel and through the parking lot. Not many resources are going toward us for this mission, but Adams said we'd at least get a car. It hasn't arrived yet, maybe later on during the day.

We get far enough to where we can no longer see the motel before Sandy starts running his mouth again.

"So, where do you keep your gadgets anyway? I can't see them on you, and your clothes are tight-fitting. You keep 'em in your back pocket or something?"

Is it really a good idea to tell this guy our setup? It's a tiny detail, I suppose.

I humor his question. "We have special holsters that bend, expand, and contract to fit us perfectly and inconspicuously. It's kinda like the thing is alive, crawling all over you to make sure it can't be seen."

"That's wild."

"Troy," Clyde says, "don't indulge him. He doesn't need to know these things, and when you respond, he keeps talking."

Sandy continues. "You guys ever wonder why Anthros evolved into having human feet? History says they use to have paws and claws like the domestic pets today, but now they have human feet and hands."

I respond again. "Maybe it's because we no longer hunt primitively, and we don't need paws and claws like the neanderthals."

"Hey, that kinda rhymed," he says, a small chuckle thrown in with it. He walks confidently, following an invisible trail that we can't see. "Speaking of which, why are there Anthros and domestic pets? How is it that a special gene exists in some people, but not others? Who decides who becomes an Anthro, and who stays as a four-legged pet? It's a cruel world, I'll tell ya."

Clyde sighs, frustrated at the chatterbox. "Please don't."

"Have you ever thought about when a human and an Anthro cross-breed, how is it decided what the baby will be?"

"Dominant genes," I say quickly.

"And when two Anthros of a different species meet? Probably the same answer, right?"

"Jesus," Clyde yells, finally fed up with the questions, "did you not pay attention in Social Studies and Health class? This is all middle school knowledge! You should know this already!"

Sandy stays calm, not changing his pace one bit. "Well, I do know that you two are different species, a dog and a fox, and are also dating. However, male pregnancy isn't a thing, at least not yet."

Clyde and I both stop in our tracks, letting Sandy continue on his own. I'm totally dazed and have no idea how he figured that out so quickly. After he notices the absence of our footsteps, he stops and turns around.

"Hey," he calls, "why'd you stop? You tired? Can we have that break now?"

"You-" I stutter, "you're not supposed to know that. How do you know that."

He laughs, "Seriously? I saw how Clyde wanted to smash some spines when that clerk pinched your little booty. You don't get like that with co-workers. Also, two beds? One for me, one for you two to share. Am I right? At first, I thought you were gonna make me sleep on the floor." His smirk is so smug, you'd think he believed he was Sherlock Holmes himself.

At a loss for words, Clyde speaks up for both of us. "Keep walking, Sandy."

"Okay, okay," he says, throwing his arms up in defeat. "Another question: If male pregnancy was real, who'd have the baby? My money's on Troy."

Oh great, my cheeks are red.