𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄 || 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐊

𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

THE HMS POGUE hummed as it approached the crumbling dock near the rundown motel. The late-afternoon sun cast long shadows over the wreckage of the storm, but it did nothing to soften the harsh lines of the decrepit building ahead. The faded paint and boarded-up windows screamed of neglect, a stark contrast to the pristine Grady-White the Pogues had found earlier.

Avery Street leaned on the edge of the boat, her legs crossed casually, her sharp green eyes fixed on the motel. Dressed in her white bikini top and black shorts, she looked completely out of place in the setting, like a star dropped into a B-list horror movie.

"Okay, I'm just gonna say it," she said, her voice cutting through the silence. "This place looks like it smells bad through the pictures."

Kiara laughed softly, shaking her head. "So, what's the plan?" she asked John B, who stood at the wheel.

John B adjusted the throttle as the boat pulled alongside the dock. "I know how we're gonna find the guy who owns that boat."

Pope frowned, leaning against the railing. "We don't even know whose room it is. It could be anyone."

Kiara shrugged as the boat slowed. "I'm in. Come on. I'll be lookout."

"Finder's fee," John B added with a grin. "Just sayin'."

JJ turned to Pope, clapping him on the back. "And, hey, at least you'll only be an accomplice."

"Man..." Pope muttered as the group climbed out of the boat.

"Come on, bubba," John B urged, leading the way.

-

The air smelled faintly of mildew and something metallic, like old water and rust.

JJ whistled low as they approached. "I thought the Château looked bad."

"This place is a shitshow," John B agreed, stepping over a crumpled folding chair.

"Motel or meth lab?" Kiara asked, tilting her head.

Pope's face twisted with distaste. "You be the judge."

Avery paused, crossing her arms as she looked at the scattered mattresses outside the building. "It's giving end-of-the-world chic," she said dryly. "Very on-brand for a murder mystery."

JJ grinned back at her. "Don't worry, Street. If anyone tries to murder you, I've got your back."

"Thanks, Maybank," she replied. "But I'm faster than you, so I think I'll be fine."

John B pointed toward a staircase leading to the second floor. "Doesn't look like a place someone with a Grady-White stays."

"No," Pope said, glancing around. "Looks like a place someone with a Grady-White would get killed."

-

The narrow staircase creaked under their weight as they climbed, Avery lagging slightly behind. Her gaze swept over the cracked walls and warped wood as she muttered, "If this thing collapses, I'm haunting all of you."

"Why are all these mattresses out?" John B asked, gesturing to the pile on the side.

"After a hurricane, they ditch 'em 'cause they're moldy," JJ replied, stepping around a discarded lamp.

"Just be so careful, John," JJ added, smirking.

John B stopped, turning to look at him. "God, you're so weird."

"What was that about?" JJ replied.

John B shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe she wants us to be careful."