Max was tired, and rightfully so. She had just driven all the way from Portland to Arcadia Bay in her black 1989 Mazda 323. The actual trip hadn't really taken very long due to the lack of traffic, but in her state of sleep deprivation, it seemed to have lasted forever. With all her luggage in tow, she had felt like a sardine in an overstuffed can. It also hadn't been easy to drive through the Tillamook National Forest in the dark, especially since she was still pretty jumpy and paranoid about being followed. The lack of street lights between Forest Grove and Tillamook hasn't made it any easier. For that portion of the drive, the only light had been from the dingy headlights of her antique of a car. It was a miracle that there hadn't been any forest animals that darted across the road in front of her, aside from that one raccoon in Beaverton, which she had managed not to hit. Luckily, there had been no other cars on the road at the time of the raccoon incident.
After Max had finally arrived in Arcadia Bay, she immediately checked into the cheapest motel she could find in town. The manager; a short, middle aged man with balding grey hair, hadn't seemed happy about her checking in at 4:20 in the morning, but there wasn't much she could do about that. Travelling in the wee hours of the morning was the best way to deter being followed. It wasn't worth the risk to travel during the day. Max had learned that the hard way. There still wasn't any way of guaranteeing that she hadn't been followed, but she had managed to at least lower the chances. The only thing Max could really do now was to be extremely cautious, as always. It almost feels like I'm on the run. I guess I sort of am, in a way.
Unloading the few belongings that she would need from the near ancient vehicle, she brought them to her room. The rest of her luggage was left in the car, reserved for her future dorm at Blackwell. Max's motel room was on the second floor, so she didn't want to have to carry all her stuff up the stairs. Room number 7. The door had a coat of red paint which had faded and chipped over the years.
Damn, this place looks ancient, like it'll collapse at any second. At least seven is a lucky number, right? After fumbling for the key, Max finally unlocked the door to the motel. As soon as the door opened, she was hit with a wave of the distinct smell of tobacco, her nose wrinkling up reflexively at the foul scent. Max had never liked the stuff, but she would have to put up with it. At least until she moved into her dorm room at Blackwell. It was only for a few days, right?
The whole room stank of mildew and stale cigarettes, the stench having likely sunken into the walls over the years. And the aged floral patterned wallpaper was peeling from the walls, revealing the mouldy wall beneath. She caught sight of a roach darting across the floor, but at least there weren't any bedbugs, at least not as far as she could tell. For $9 a night, she couldn't really complain. I just have to make sure not to bring any food into the room, Max noted. I doubt this place is up to any kind of code. If they actually have regulations like that for motels.
Despite the negativities, Max was elated to be back in Arcadia Bay. She had never really thought of Portland as her home, and she had been waiting so long to go back to her home town. And now she was here. More than that, she was finally free from her old life. Hunting monsters, just as her parents had before her. She hadn't had much of a say in the matter. Not to mention that the Caulfields had many enemies. Very powerful enemies. Luckily, they were her parents' enemies, for the most part. And Max had managed to make it through those five years without killing any that had those sort of connections. Not that she didn't feel horrified by her actions. Arcadia Bay was a chance for her to start over.
She had, of course, brought a few weapons with her in the off chance that she would need them. Or if she had somehow been followed, which was unlikely. Max hadn't even bothered loading her gun, not that she had ever used it. She hated guns.
After she had finished putting away her luggage, which consisted of a sleeping bag, a ratty old toothbrush, clothes, a crossbow, and her unloaded pistol with a built in silencer, Max grabbed a towel and some clean clothes and headed out to the bathroom to take a shower, although after she actually saw the state of the bathroom, she pondered if it would actually make her smell worse.
There was only one public bathroom in the middle of the complex, which was unisex and had only two stalls, one sink, and one grimy looking shower. The whole bathroom stank like it hadn't been cleaned in at least a year. The walls, which had probably been white at some point, were now stained with mold and tobacco stains. Who even smokes in a bathroom, anyway?
After hanging her clothes on the shower rack, she turned the water all the way to hot. The water came out in a light trickle, and could just barely pass as lukewarm. At least the water dribbling from the faucet seemed like it was probably clean. It was better than bathing in the ocean. Oh, how she couldn't wait to get out of here.
I can't believe I'm back in Arcadia Bay. Max thought to herself as she shivered under the cold water. The air seemed even colder upon her wet skin. As she washed her hair, she became enveloped in her own thoughts. It's been what, five years since I last lived here. I should stop by the Two Whales at some point and say hi to Joyce. And Chloe. I wonder if she still lives here...though she probably still hates me. I did kind of leave her right after her dad died. And I couldn't find a way to contact her for five years, I doubt she would ever want to see me again after that. What kind of person just leaves town and drops all contact with their best friend?
Max sighed, at this point she was no longer so focused on actually showering. She had completely forgotten to pack shampoo. Her eyes had started to get misty, but she blamed the humidity. Even though it wasn't my fault, I still feel awful. Although, now that I'm in town, I should at least try to get back in touch. What am I supposed to say if they ask about Seattle? I never even ended up going to Seattle, I don't know what it would be like to live there!
Max shut off the water and then pressed the palm of her hand to her forehead, a stress headache building. No point in stressing myself over this tonight, I can always deal with it tomorrow. I need to unwind after today.
After drying herself off with a moth eaten towel and getting dressed in clean clothes, Max hastily exited the bathroom. Her legs hadn't dried out completely, that and the cold night air caused her to shiver. That shower hadn't really helped her smell any better. Now she smelled like everyone else's body odor. Accept your fate, Max, she thought to herself, chuckling softly.
The lot outside the motel was anything but impressive. The pavement was patchy and filled with potholes, and the only lighting was whatever came from residents' windows. At least it didn't smell awful, thanks to the crisp autumn wind. A tiny sliver of moon hung crooked in the mostly clouded sky, and the soft chirping of crickets could be heard.
Across the street was a mostly empty lot with a single building, the pavement so torn up and aged that grass was growing between the cracks. There had been a Blockbuster's Video there when she had last lived in town. As a kid, Max had used to go there with her dad to pick out movies to watch. Now, it was little more than a crumbling abandoned building.
Leaning against the side of the building, Max reached into her pocket, pulling out some weed and rolling paper, skillfully rolling up a joint. She didn't smoke too often, but it helped take the edge off when she had anxiety. Which admittedly was pretty often. Max had initially been repulsed by the thought of smoking, but now here she was. She would probably have to conserve what she had left now that she wasn't in Portland anymore. She had to have the good stuff, cheaper bud tasted like shit. Lighting it up with a quick snap of her fingers, she set the joint to her lips, taking a good deep hit. Her mind wandered to Chloe yet again. It was hard for it not to, now that she was finally back in Arcadia. I should really call her tomorrow or something now that I'm finally back in town. Hopefully she doesn't still hate me, but I wouldn't hold it against her if she does. What would she even think of me now? Max sighed, smoke cascading from her lips. She'd probably think I'm a total loser.
After a couple more deep hits, Max snuffed out the roach and stuck it in her bag for later. She already felt the effects of the THC, and was ready to sleep. What time even is it? ...Probably doesn't matter. School isn't for two more days, anyway.
With a good yawn, Max walked back to her room. It feels like I'm moving in slow motion. Am I really, or am I just really stoned… ugh, I just want to sleep. By the time she reached her room, her head felt like it was floaty and filled with cotton. Damn, that shit was strong.
At least the bedding is clean, Max thought to herself as she buried herself under the covers. The room was freezing, but Max was would have to just shiver it off. Shivering is good for your health, right? It burns calories or something. Note to self: buy a space heater from Fred Meyer tomorrow.
If not for being pretty stoned, Max probably would have had trouble falling asleep due to her anxiety. She was going to be starting school at Blackwell Academy in only two days! She wouldn't be able to actually start living on campus until after orientation. She instead chose to stay at the most inexpensive motel she could find.
Mere minutes after she had switched the lights off and gotten relatively comfortable, she heard a shrill and inhuman scream outside, accompanied by snarling and immediately turned the lights back on, momentarily blinding herself. Quickly retrieving her already loaded crossbow from her bedside, she stumbled out into the near empty parking lot, ready to fight if need be. Although she also felt about ready to pass out.
There, across the street!
She could barely make out the shapes in the dim light of a single streetlamp. It was the empty lot across the street. Her eyes focused as best they could on the figures across the street. It appeared to be a very large dog fighting...something that sort of but didn't really resemble a dog. More like a very tall crocodile. By the sounds they were making, Max could tell that they certainly weren't dogs. The two of them were locked in a violent conflict. Well, the basilisk was attacking the chupacabra, who seemed to try to be getting away and failing.
The basilisk struck with incredible speed, latching it's teeth onto the hind leg of it's victim, who screamed in agony. The sound alone made Max feel sick. She had to do something.
Max quickly snuck closer, readying her crossbow. She wasn't too worried about the chupacabra, who was clearly the victim to this attack. They didn't pose too much of a danger to humans, since they fed off animal blood. And could also subsist on regular food, but blood seemed to somehow be preferable. Basilisks usually kept to themselves, so this was probably a personal spat. In matters like this, she knew she should really try not to interfere, but Max Caulfield never minded her own business. And by her judgement, this altercation seemed unjustified.
Upon closer inspection, the victim seemed to be wearing jeans, which was kind of odd. Chupacabras were shapeshifters, and they usually shed all their clothes before taking on their true form. But for some reason or another, this one had decided to wear skinny jeans. Maybe they serve as protection of some sort? That, or it's just modest.
Taking aim at the aggressor's hind leg, Max fired her crossbow, a loud snap ringing through the air, similar in volume. It hit true, but didn't seem to do much other than catch the basilisk's attention. Not good. Max didn't have any more bolts with her, leaving her essentially unarmed. Both of the beasts turned towards Max. The basilisk charged at her without warning, crocodile-like maw gaping and ready to tear into flesh.
Right as the aggressive beast launched itself toward her, Max nailed it right in the shoulder with a powerful kick, sending it reeling back in pain. Hopefully, that will slow it down so I can make a run for it.
Max made a run for it, heading towards her motel room. Just as she was reaching out to grab the doorknob, she was tackled down and pinned to the ground by hooked claws. At this point, she was nearly defenseless. Feeling cool breath on the back of her neck, Max couldn't help but panic. She couldn't kick at this angle, and her crossbow had skidded a few feet away from her when she had fallen. Shit, now I don't really have much of a choice. I have to use my powers on him…
Before Max could have another thought, the weight pinning her to the asphalt was suddenly gone. Scrambling to her feet, she witnessed the chupacabra in skinny jeans sinking it's teeth into the hind leg of the basilisk who had attacked her, drawing blood before the enormous reptile managed to free itself and scurry off, realizing that it was outnumbered.
Finally able to slow her breathing, Max looked up to get a better look at her rescuer, whose breathing was laboured, blood leaking from multiple lacerations. It seemed to be a female, seeing as she was wearing a light application of eye makeup. She noticed an intricate sleeve tattoo snaked up the creature's right arm, and sharp spines running down her back. Upon looking back at Max, her eyes widened and she backed away slightly, the beginnings of what seemed to be tears welling up in her eyes.
Suddenly, the beast was upon her, lips curled back in a snarl, razor sharp glittering in the dim light. As she was readying a kick to free herself, Max noticed tears dripping from the creature's bright blue eyes. Up close, Max realized that she could recognize those eyes. The eyes that had been burned into the back of her head ever since she had left Arcadia Bay five years ago. She just didn't want to believe it.
"...Chloe?"