Hotel Dusk: Room 215 - Act I, Scene I + Introduction
So I got a thousand gazillion things to say and because I'm a disorganised person, this is gonna sound and look pretty disorganised too.
1. I know I have a (bad) habit of discontinuing (or not starting at all) series, but I'VE GOT THIS ONE COVERED! The reason why I suck at finishing series is because I can't see the ending and things just start to spiral outta control and I end up disliking it. But I totally can see the ending for this one. I have it all planned! So I hope I have your support. I'll finish this or die trying.
2. This series is loosely based on the Nintendo DS game Hotel Dusk: Room 215, which I really really like after playing it once, hence the birth of this series. I said, loosely though. Most of the dialogue for Part I is taken directly from the game itself, but I think as I veer away/twist the plot, it'll be different.
3. There're some kinship relations in this series that don't make sense if you consider the characters real age. So... I ask you to ignore reality of it all :P These relations don't surface until later, so yea.
4. You won't be reading much slash in the first few parts because this is a mystery thriller and things like these need time to build up/reveal! I do hope that won't stop you from reading the fic. So anyway, I need your opinion on this one. I'm not sure if I should post it on the respective slash fics communities, but I've done so for Part I anyway. Depending on the response/comments, I might just post the remaining parts here only. Check back periodically xD
5. I try to follow the chapters in the game as best I can, but they become really long when I write it out. This first chapter/part, I split into four chapters. So, I'll be posting by parts subsequently as well. Each part corresponds to a chapter in the game.
6. ... I don't think I have a 6. Um, wait. Thank you so much for reading through all of the above! ^^
7. Oh, oh, I forgot. This is AU, obviously. It's set in 1979.
8. I just thought of another. I can't write smut to save my life, but I think it might be good (for the readers :P) to have some, after all, this is a hotel. So, co-writers are most welcome =) There're a million ways to contact me; look at my profile for starters and use one of 'em xD
9. *new* The lingo used here is pretty jumbled up, because a) the game was set in LA, America, however b) I switched it to Liverpool, so c) I'm trying to make it sound more 'British-fied', but d) I don't grow up in UK or US, though I study British English, but am more exposed to American culture O.o So don't mind a sentence that contains both 'mate' and 'dude'.
Yea, I think I've said enough and bore you with my ramblings/extremely long author's notes. Congrats on surviving all that! xD And thank you again for enduring it! Now, on to the fic...
Title: Hotel Dusk: Room 215
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Mainly Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso, but there are others in later parts
Disclaimer: This is fiction! Not true! However much I wish, I don't own the players or Hotel Dusk.
Chapter 1
Word Count: 1,971
Summary: December 29, 1979, Steven Gerrard checks into Hotel Dusk.
December 24, 1976
The setting sun bathed the room in an orange glow. Steven growled menacingly at the almost-blinding light and pulled the shades, however the light still managed to slip through the tiny gaps in the blinds. He sighed, but there was nothing more he could do. Oh well, at least he wasn’t getting the full blast of it.
He stretched out on his chair and twirled a pencil. The office was at a lull. There was a ton of paperwork for him to do, but he could not work on them now. Not with a troubled mind. He bit his lower lip and frowned in deep thought. His partner (pun intended) Xabi has been acting weird lately. Troubled was the word. Almost as troubled as he was now.
Xabi was keeping something from him. It frustrated him to no end that he was clueless about it. He asked Xabi once, but Xabi told him to wait - and that they needed to talk after this job was done. There was something bittersweet about it.
The phone rang. Steven had a dreadful foreboding feeling as he lifted the receiver to his ear.
“This is Gerrard.”
The person on the other side spoke in a fast agitated tone. Steven slammed the receiver down and was out of the office before anyone could ask what was going on…
---
The few solitary boats rocked gently along the river. A black cat feasted on a fish (a rare treat) atop a barrel. The place was almost deserted. People were all at home for a nice Christmas Eve dinner. The young moon cast a slivery sheen, a huge contrast to the harsh orange glow three hours ago. The strangely serene but eerie dock was all set for a confrontation between two men.
Steven had his gun out. His hands were trembling. Blinded by rage, he lost track of his actions since he received that call hours ago. Logic and reason no longer had a place in his mind. He should not be driving, much less holding a gun, but he both did anyway.
“Xabi.” He said in a strained voice. “Why?”
His partner stood at the edge of the pier.
“Don’t move!” Steven warned.
But Xabi did not take heed. He turned around slowly.
A single gunshot exploded.
Steven caught Xabi’s heartbroken gaze before the man fell into the River Thames.
---
December 28, 1979
His pager beeped incessantly. Steven groped the bedside table in the darkness for it. A familiar number flashed. But he didn’t need to look at it to know who it was. He tossed the pager on the bed (it had stopped its annoying beeping now) and took his time to freshen up before returning the call.
“What’s up, Rafa?”
“Stevie! What took you so long?”
Steven grunted and Rafa could almost see the man shrugging on the other side of the phone.
“Anyway, I’ve got a job for you.”
Rafa waited for a reply, but none came, so he went on giving instructions.
“It’s a place called Hotel Dusk. The package is on the way, and the order sheet’s inside.”
“Got it.”
He hung up and started packing. His dad’s old friend, Rafael Benitez ran a door-to-door sales company known as the Red Crown. Based in Liverpool, it sold all kinds of household goods. But things weren’t as simple as it seemed. On the side, Rafa found things for clients who did not want them to fall into the ‘wrong’ hands. Steven lent a hand even now and then.
Since he left the force, this was what Steven got himself into. It wasn’t the best job on earth, but it allowed him to travel often and when he did, Steven kept his eyes and ears opened for Xabi’s whereabouts. Not a day went by without him thinking of his missing partner.
“Missing, not dead.” He mumbled, stuffing an off-white shirt into the weathered suitcase. “I know you’re not dead, Xabi. They didn’t find your body in the river. I’m going to hunt you down. I want answers, Xabi…”
---
December 29, 1979
The drive to Hotel Dusk was a drag. After stopping over at a dubious looking roadside café for a quick lunch (which didn’t taste as bad as it looked), Steven stepped on the accelerator and sped towards his destination. Just before arriving, he passed a young man whose brown hair was streaked with gold. He looked to be hitchhiking. Their eyes met, but Steven did not stop. He met a number of punks like him along the way. Best to ignore them. There was no telling what they might do once they hopped in.
Minutes later, Steven pulled up in the driveway of the hotel. It was a small two-story red-bricked one with a good old 60’s look. It had a homey feel to it, but Steven wasn’t sure if he should be falling in love with it so quickly. He grabbed his bag from the boot and walked through the heavy wooden doors.
On the right was the front desk and by the left wall was a battered leather couch and table. Straight on ahead was the archway to the lobby. Steven walked to the desk with the ‘OPEN’ sign flashing above. Hm. Guess this is where I check in. He rang the bell, several times until he was losing his patience, and at last, the door behind it opened.
A middle-aged surly man emerged with a glare that made Steven wished he did not ring the bell that many times. Must’ve interrupted him watching a match or something… The man didn’t say a word. He leaned against the desk and looked at Steven questioningly. Steven looked back.
“I need a room.” He said eventually. It was pointless to engage in a staring contest.
“Oh yea, I can tell.” The man said sarcastically before turning around to grab a key, then tossing it at Steven. He took a pen from behind the desk and pushed it towards him together with a form.
“Wish?” Steven asked after examining the tag on the key. It had the number ‘215’ and ‘Wish’ engraved on it.
“It’s the room’s name. Can’t you tell?” Mr. Sarcastic drawled.
“The rooms have names?” Steven grinned in amusement.
“Yea, why not.”
“Why?”
The man tilted his head and blinked, as if surprised that someone like Steven was questioning him. “Because, it makes things interesting. And besides, that Wish room, it’s got a… history.”
“A history? What, like it’s haunted?” Oh god… why am I not surprised…
“No.” Then a pause as the man thought about whether or not to tell him. “Don’t you have something you wish for?”
Steven was on the verge of shaking his head immediately but stopped himself. The man chuckled. “Everyone does.” He rapped his knuckled against the desk where the pen and form was. Steven proceeded to filling it in while the man went on speaking.
“That room… People say it grants wishes. Might grant yours tonight.”
Steven snorted and shrugged. “Maybe.” He pushed the form and pen back to the man.
“Steven Gerrard?” If the man had any surprise on seeing Steven’s name, he did not show it.
“Yea, what about it?”
“Nothin’.” But it was too late. Once Steven’s interest was piqued, there was no stopping his questions from coming.
“Doesn’t sound like a ‘nothin’ to me. Out with it.”
The man shook his head and yawned. “Nothin’.” He shoved the form and the pen out of sight. “Well, you’re all checked in. Room’s on the second floor. Stairs are on the left of the lobby - can’t miss it. Restaurant’s open for dinner at 6 and breakfast at 7.30. We’ve got a bar too. It opens at 9. Checkout’s at 10 in the morning. My name’s Raul and I own this place. Welcome to Hotel Dusk.”
It was the most Raul had said so far and he said it quickly too. Steven found himself trying to catch the nitty-gritty details so carelessly flung at him at break-neck speed.
“Anything else?” Raul asked when Steven was still standing there.
“You had a guest with my name? That what surprised you?” It wasn’t too hard to figure out.
Raul shot an annoyed look at him. “Yea.”
“Tell me about him.” Steven prompted.
“’Bout your age. Tall and thin. Dark brown hair.”
Steven thought it sounded like Xabi, but he didn’t dare keep his hopes too high. There could be a number of people in England with the same name.
“This Steven Gerrard stayed here often?”
“Nope, just this once, 6 months ago.” Raul tapped his fingers on the desk. Clearly, he was getting fed up with this interrogation. Steven took it as his cue to leave.
“There’s supposed to be a package for me.”
“Really?” Raul raised a brow.
“Yea. It should be here. Maybe you could-”
“I’ll get the bellboy to send it up to you when it arrives.”
“Thanks.” Steven nodded. He grabbed his belongings and headed for the stairs. Raul watched him leave, as if wanting to make sure Steven did not get lost. The lobby wasn’t bad as well. Raul’s office and a “STAFF ONLY” door were on the right. A room 111 sat straight ahead and to the left was the archway that lead to the restaurant, bar and stairs.
As he climbed the stairs, Steven looked at the key-tag again. “Wish. Ch’…” He chuckled, Raul didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would take the trouble to name rooms. So amused by it, he did not notice someone else coming down the stairs hurriedly. By the time he did, it was too late to step aside.
“Hey! Watch it.” Steven growled at the other man.
“S-s-sorry.” As quickly as he came, the man disappeared down the stairs.
“What’s the rush…” Steven mumbled. “There’d better be no more of such weird characters staying here.”
The second floor was basically full of rooms. He turned right and found his at the end of hallway.
“So, this is where wishes are granted, huh?” Perhaps… “Ah, forget it, Stevie.” He dropped his suitcase on the table. “It’s just a bunch’a fairy tales.” He took a walk around the room and was impressed by it. It was simple, but all the necessities were there. And guess what? The bathroom was squeaky clean. “Not bad…” He smiled, slumping onto the bed and stretching like a lazy cat. “Guess I’ll wait for the package to arrive and call-”
The phone rang. He sat up and looked at it curiously but picked it up anyway.
“Yea?”
“Stevie!” It was Jamie Carragher. One of the guys who worked for Rafa. “Glad to hear you arrived in one piece!”
“Hey, Carra.” Stevie smiled. It was good to hear a familiar voice in a foreign place.
“So, how’s the place?”
“It’s alright. Better than it looks from the outside.”
“Great! Has the package arrived yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Hmm… Well when it does, check the order sheet and give me a call.”
Steven nodded, then realised Carra probably couldn’t see, so he said, “Okay. That all in the package?”
“No, there’re some new products in there too.”
“New products?” What the hell for? “What am I suppose to do with them?”
“You’re a salesman, Stevie! Try selling something!” Steven could almost picture Carra giving him the ‘are you stupid’ look. “And those are Rafa’s orders, not mine.”
“Hm.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll get off your back. Remember to call when the package arrives!”
“Yeah.”
Carragher hung up and so did Steven. Glancing quickly at his watch (it was 5:10pm), he decided that he could do with a short nap before heading down for dinner. Yawning, he stretched out on the bed and within seconds, he was dreaming of that night on the docks, again.
1. I know I have a (bad) habit of discontinuing (or not starting at all) series, but I'VE GOT THIS ONE COVERED! The reason why I suck at finishing series is because I can't see the ending and things just start to spiral outta control and I end up disliking it. But I totally can see the ending for this one. I have it all planned! So I hope I have your support. I'll finish this or die trying.
2. This series is loosely based on the Nintendo DS game Hotel Dusk: Room 215, which I really really like after playing it once, hence the birth of this series. I said, loosely though. Most of the dialogue for Part I is taken directly from the game itself, but I think as I veer away/twist the plot, it'll be different.
3. There're some kinship relations in this series that don't make sense if you consider the characters real age. So... I ask you to ignore reality of it all :P These relations don't surface until later, so yea.
4. You won't be reading much slash in the first few parts because this is a mystery thriller and things like these need time to build up/reveal! I do hope that won't stop you from reading the fic. So anyway, I need your opinion on this one. I'm not sure if I should post it on the respective slash fics communities, but I've done so for Part I anyway. Depending on the response/comments, I might just post the remaining parts here only. Check back periodically xD
5. I try to follow the chapters in the game as best I can, but they become really long when I write it out. This first chapter/part, I split into four chapters. So, I'll be posting by parts subsequently as well. Each part corresponds to a chapter in the game.
6. ... I don't think I have a 6. Um, wait. Thank you so much for reading through all of the above! ^^
7. Oh, oh, I forgot. This is AU, obviously. It's set in 1979.
8. I just thought of another. I can't write smut to save my life, but I think it might be good (for the readers :P) to have some, after all, this is a hotel. So, co-writers are most welcome =) There're a million ways to contact me; look at my profile for starters and use one of 'em xD
9. *new* The lingo used here is pretty jumbled up, because a) the game was set in LA, America, however b) I switched it to Liverpool, so c) I'm trying to make it sound more 'British-fied', but d) I don't grow up in UK or US, though I study British English, but am more exposed to American culture O.o So don't mind a sentence that contains both 'mate' and 'dude'.
Yea, I think I've said enough and bore you with my ramblings/extremely long author's notes. Congrats on surviving all that! xD And thank you again for enduring it! Now, on to the fic...
Title: Hotel Dusk: Room 215
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Mainly Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso, but there are others in later parts
Disclaimer: This is fiction! Not true! However much I wish, I don't own the players or Hotel Dusk.
Chapter 1
Word Count: 1,971
Summary: December 29, 1979, Steven Gerrard checks into Hotel Dusk.
December 24, 1976
The setting sun bathed the room in an orange glow. Steven growled menacingly at the almost-blinding light and pulled the shades, however the light still managed to slip through the tiny gaps in the blinds. He sighed, but there was nothing more he could do. Oh well, at least he wasn’t getting the full blast of it.
He stretched out on his chair and twirled a pencil. The office was at a lull. There was a ton of paperwork for him to do, but he could not work on them now. Not with a troubled mind. He bit his lower lip and frowned in deep thought. His partner (pun intended) Xabi has been acting weird lately. Troubled was the word. Almost as troubled as he was now.
Xabi was keeping something from him. It frustrated him to no end that he was clueless about it. He asked Xabi once, but Xabi told him to wait - and that they needed to talk after this job was done. There was something bittersweet about it.
The phone rang. Steven had a dreadful foreboding feeling as he lifted the receiver to his ear.
“This is Gerrard.”
The person on the other side spoke in a fast agitated tone. Steven slammed the receiver down and was out of the office before anyone could ask what was going on…
---
The few solitary boats rocked gently along the river. A black cat feasted on a fish (a rare treat) atop a barrel. The place was almost deserted. People were all at home for a nice Christmas Eve dinner. The young moon cast a slivery sheen, a huge contrast to the harsh orange glow three hours ago. The strangely serene but eerie dock was all set for a confrontation between two men.
Steven had his gun out. His hands were trembling. Blinded by rage, he lost track of his actions since he received that call hours ago. Logic and reason no longer had a place in his mind. He should not be driving, much less holding a gun, but he both did anyway.
“Xabi.” He said in a strained voice. “Why?”
His partner stood at the edge of the pier.
“Don’t move!” Steven warned.
But Xabi did not take heed. He turned around slowly.
A single gunshot exploded.
Steven caught Xabi’s heartbroken gaze before the man fell into the River Thames.
---
December 28, 1979
His pager beeped incessantly. Steven groped the bedside table in the darkness for it. A familiar number flashed. But he didn’t need to look at it to know who it was. He tossed the pager on the bed (it had stopped its annoying beeping now) and took his time to freshen up before returning the call.
“What’s up, Rafa?”
“Stevie! What took you so long?”
Steven grunted and Rafa could almost see the man shrugging on the other side of the phone.
“Anyway, I’ve got a job for you.”
Rafa waited for a reply, but none came, so he went on giving instructions.
“It’s a place called Hotel Dusk. The package is on the way, and the order sheet’s inside.”
“Got it.”
He hung up and started packing. His dad’s old friend, Rafael Benitez ran a door-to-door sales company known as the Red Crown. Based in Liverpool, it sold all kinds of household goods. But things weren’t as simple as it seemed. On the side, Rafa found things for clients who did not want them to fall into the ‘wrong’ hands. Steven lent a hand even now and then.
Since he left the force, this was what Steven got himself into. It wasn’t the best job on earth, but it allowed him to travel often and when he did, Steven kept his eyes and ears opened for Xabi’s whereabouts. Not a day went by without him thinking of his missing partner.
“Missing, not dead.” He mumbled, stuffing an off-white shirt into the weathered suitcase. “I know you’re not dead, Xabi. They didn’t find your body in the river. I’m going to hunt you down. I want answers, Xabi…”
---
December 29, 1979
The drive to Hotel Dusk was a drag. After stopping over at a dubious looking roadside café for a quick lunch (which didn’t taste as bad as it looked), Steven stepped on the accelerator and sped towards his destination. Just before arriving, he passed a young man whose brown hair was streaked with gold. He looked to be hitchhiking. Their eyes met, but Steven did not stop. He met a number of punks like him along the way. Best to ignore them. There was no telling what they might do once they hopped in.
Minutes later, Steven pulled up in the driveway of the hotel. It was a small two-story red-bricked one with a good old 60’s look. It had a homey feel to it, but Steven wasn’t sure if he should be falling in love with it so quickly. He grabbed his bag from the boot and walked through the heavy wooden doors.
On the right was the front desk and by the left wall was a battered leather couch and table. Straight on ahead was the archway to the lobby. Steven walked to the desk with the ‘OPEN’ sign flashing above. Hm. Guess this is where I check in. He rang the bell, several times until he was losing his patience, and at last, the door behind it opened.
A middle-aged surly man emerged with a glare that made Steven wished he did not ring the bell that many times. Must’ve interrupted him watching a match or something… The man didn’t say a word. He leaned against the desk and looked at Steven questioningly. Steven looked back.
“I need a room.” He said eventually. It was pointless to engage in a staring contest.
“Oh yea, I can tell.” The man said sarcastically before turning around to grab a key, then tossing it at Steven. He took a pen from behind the desk and pushed it towards him together with a form.
“Wish?” Steven asked after examining the tag on the key. It had the number ‘215’ and ‘Wish’ engraved on it.
“It’s the room’s name. Can’t you tell?” Mr. Sarcastic drawled.
“The rooms have names?” Steven grinned in amusement.
“Yea, why not.”
“Why?”
The man tilted his head and blinked, as if surprised that someone like Steven was questioning him. “Because, it makes things interesting. And besides, that Wish room, it’s got a… history.”
“A history? What, like it’s haunted?” Oh god… why am I not surprised…
“No.” Then a pause as the man thought about whether or not to tell him. “Don’t you have something you wish for?”
Steven was on the verge of shaking his head immediately but stopped himself. The man chuckled. “Everyone does.” He rapped his knuckled against the desk where the pen and form was. Steven proceeded to filling it in while the man went on speaking.
“That room… People say it grants wishes. Might grant yours tonight.”
Steven snorted and shrugged. “Maybe.” He pushed the form and pen back to the man.
“Steven Gerrard?” If the man had any surprise on seeing Steven’s name, he did not show it.
“Yea, what about it?”
“Nothin’.” But it was too late. Once Steven’s interest was piqued, there was no stopping his questions from coming.
“Doesn’t sound like a ‘nothin’ to me. Out with it.”
The man shook his head and yawned. “Nothin’.” He shoved the form and the pen out of sight. “Well, you’re all checked in. Room’s on the second floor. Stairs are on the left of the lobby - can’t miss it. Restaurant’s open for dinner at 6 and breakfast at 7.30. We’ve got a bar too. It opens at 9. Checkout’s at 10 in the morning. My name’s Raul and I own this place. Welcome to Hotel Dusk.”
It was the most Raul had said so far and he said it quickly too. Steven found himself trying to catch the nitty-gritty details so carelessly flung at him at break-neck speed.
“Anything else?” Raul asked when Steven was still standing there.
“You had a guest with my name? That what surprised you?” It wasn’t too hard to figure out.
Raul shot an annoyed look at him. “Yea.”
“Tell me about him.” Steven prompted.
“’Bout your age. Tall and thin. Dark brown hair.”
Steven thought it sounded like Xabi, but he didn’t dare keep his hopes too high. There could be a number of people in England with the same name.
“This Steven Gerrard stayed here often?”
“Nope, just this once, 6 months ago.” Raul tapped his fingers on the desk. Clearly, he was getting fed up with this interrogation. Steven took it as his cue to leave.
“There’s supposed to be a package for me.”
“Really?” Raul raised a brow.
“Yea. It should be here. Maybe you could-”
“I’ll get the bellboy to send it up to you when it arrives.”
“Thanks.” Steven nodded. He grabbed his belongings and headed for the stairs. Raul watched him leave, as if wanting to make sure Steven did not get lost. The lobby wasn’t bad as well. Raul’s office and a “STAFF ONLY” door were on the right. A room 111 sat straight ahead and to the left was the archway that lead to the restaurant, bar and stairs.
As he climbed the stairs, Steven looked at the key-tag again. “Wish. Ch’…” He chuckled, Raul didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would take the trouble to name rooms. So amused by it, he did not notice someone else coming down the stairs hurriedly. By the time he did, it was too late to step aside.
“Hey! Watch it.” Steven growled at the other man.
“S-s-sorry.” As quickly as he came, the man disappeared down the stairs.
“What’s the rush…” Steven mumbled. “There’d better be no more of such weird characters staying here.”
The second floor was basically full of rooms. He turned right and found his at the end of hallway.
“So, this is where wishes are granted, huh?” Perhaps… “Ah, forget it, Stevie.” He dropped his suitcase on the table. “It’s just a bunch’a fairy tales.” He took a walk around the room and was impressed by it. It was simple, but all the necessities were there. And guess what? The bathroom was squeaky clean. “Not bad…” He smiled, slumping onto the bed and stretching like a lazy cat. “Guess I’ll wait for the package to arrive and call-”
The phone rang. He sat up and looked at it curiously but picked it up anyway.
“Yea?”
“Stevie!” It was Jamie Carragher. One of the guys who worked for Rafa. “Glad to hear you arrived in one piece!”
“Hey, Carra.” Stevie smiled. It was good to hear a familiar voice in a foreign place.
“So, how’s the place?”
“It’s alright. Better than it looks from the outside.”
“Great! Has the package arrived yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Hmm… Well when it does, check the order sheet and give me a call.”
Steven nodded, then realised Carra probably couldn’t see, so he said, “Okay. That all in the package?”
“No, there’re some new products in there too.”
“New products?” What the hell for? “What am I suppose to do with them?”
“You’re a salesman, Stevie! Try selling something!” Steven could almost picture Carra giving him the ‘are you stupid’ look. “And those are Rafa’s orders, not mine.”
“Hm.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll get off your back. Remember to call when the package arrives!”
“Yeah.”
Carragher hung up and so did Steven. Glancing quickly at his watch (it was 5:10pm), he decided that he could do with a short nap before heading down for dinner. Yawning, he stretched out on the bed and within seconds, he was dreaming of that night on the docks, again.