You had just checked into the Hotel Cortez in downtown Los Angeles, a place taken straight out of the beautiful 1920's. Long, winding hallways that never seemed to end. A calm yet unnerving feeling whenever you're walking around alone, trying not to get lost. Guests who never seemed to check out. All of this would turn any person away, but not you. You always had a knack for the strange, and when this hotel popped up as a suggested place to spend the night while on your journey, you'd be a fool to turn it down. The price was probably a bit in the steeper end, but the reviews and photos had you wrapped around the hotel's finger.

You held your room key firmly in your hand, your bag with your belongings clutched in the other. Reception told you the floor and room number, but yet you manage to get lost. No one could really blame you, considering how every floor looked exactly the same. At least you assumed so. You walk down the hall on floor 13 in search of your room, your eyes searching upon every door and every number plaque next to it. At some point, you'd think your mind was playing tricks on you. Maybe the room number was false. Surely not, just continue looking..

''Hello, my dearest. Are you having trouble finding your room? Is there a chance I may be of assistance?''

A warm voice pipes up from behind you, so unexpectedly it causes a yelp to erupt from you. You stop and turn on your heel, now standing face to face with a taller man than yourself. A man with short, black, neatly styled hair, and a pencil moustache adorning his upper lip. He's dressed in a tailored, sleek, striped suit with a cane secured in his right hand. His brown eyes are on you, observing you, analysing you. His lips gracing a smile, one not only of warmth, but also .. one sending shivers shooting through your spine, making the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. A peculiar individual, yet you couldn't tear your eyes off him.