A/N: Here we go! Psychological torment and angst combined with silly, horror-tropey fun make for a creepy paranormal mystery. How can that work, you ask? Read on and find out, friends.
I've used the basic layout of the Shinra mansion from the original game and the exterior look from Crisis Core as starting points, but in the spirit of the Compilation I've happily added rooms and corridors as best fits my devious purposes. The chapters are pretty long, so I'm aiming to get one out every two weeks or so.
Rated T for swearing, innuendo of varying levels of (un)subtlety, and dark themes later on.
1. Arrival
Rude could have sworn the village was trapped in a rift in time. The settlement looked like it had lain dormant for decades, with only a solitary water tower standing to attention at its center. Even the tower was old-fashioned, cobbled together from coarse timber and chunky metal piping. He parked the pickup truck under its shadow, in the middle of what passed for a square in this mountain town.
It was hardly square, though. It wasn't even paved. It was a roundish patch of dirt, ringed by houses just as rough and plain as the water tower that took pride of place in this town. None of them were taller than two stories. It was about as far from the village of his birth as he could get on this continent, in both distance and climate, yet the first thing he thought of was home.
Rude wondered what the hell he was doing here.
"So this is Nibelheim," said the woman beside him. Professor Dana Rayleigh had spent the ride from the airfield with her nose buried in a folder, but now she peered out the window over her glasses. She sounded as underwhelmed as Rude. Then again, he had never heard her speak in anything but that paper-dry dismissive tone.
She was the reason he was here: security on this Shinra-sanctioned quest of hers. What Rude didn't understand was why she required not one but three Turk bodyguards in this sleepy backwater. The mission was basically recon for Shinra's science department, and the only known threat was the local wildlife. SOLDIER would have been a better match for bears and dragons.
Maybe the higher-ups knew something Rude didn't. In any case, orders were orders.
Rayleigh opened the door and hopped out, then swore as a gust of wind caught her hair and tousled it about her face.
"For crying out loud..."
Rude paused. It was the way she said those words. Her hair was a deep brown, not blonde, and too short; but it was the way she pushed it back with both hands. He remembered the smell of the air, that crisp promise of snow. He remembered the taste of her lipstick. Not Rayleigh's; hers.
Rayleigh tied her hair back into a stubby ponytail with an elastic band she snatched off her wrist, still muttering to herself, and the memory faded. Rude blinked and pushed his sunglasses tight over his eyes, then stepped down from the truck.
The sun shone thinly in a pale, cloudless sky, but in the shadow of the water tower Rude was grateful for the Turk suit. Nibelheim's summer weather was a far cry from the withering heat of Midgar or Costa del Sol. The breeze carried a sharpness that pricked his nostrils; Rude recognized the faint, familiar tang of refined Mako. He looked windward, but the steep mountainside hid the reactor stack from view.
"Not to diss your drivin' skills or nothin', buddy, but that was one hell of a bumpy ride. I can't feel my ass anymore."
Rude turned back to see Reno leaning against the cab in the back of the truck, goggles hanging around his neck. He wrinkled his nose as he ran his hands through his scruffy, red hair.
"What a shithole."
Rude winced as Reno's words echoed through the quiet mountain air. A couple of locals on the other side of the square looked up from their conversation. They glared at Reno with the same disdain that he wore as he inspected their town.
Cissnei jumped down and dusted off her Turk suit. Unlike Reno she wore it properly, complete with a tie.
"You've been here two minutes," she said.
"Yeah, well, I know a shithole when I see one." Reno pushed his hair out of his face with his goggles and seated them in their usual perch on his forehead. "Since I grew up in one and all."
"Isn't your current place kind of a shithole, too?"
"Nah, moved a few months ago." Reno grabbed hold of the side of the truck with one hand and hopped down. "Got a kitchen now and everythin'. You should come check it out some time."
"Only if you promise not to cook."
"Deal," he said, grinning, then glanced over at Rayleigh. "Y'know," he added, raising his voice, "Rude's a great cook."
Rude sighed. He had thought Reno had given up the wheel because he wanted a nap after the flight, or perhaps some time alone with Cissnei in the back of the truck. Rude got the sinking feeling he'd been wrong.
"Is he now?" Cissnei gave Rude a sly look. "Then I'm sure you boys don't mind taking care of the food on this trip."
Rude leveled a stare at Reno, who just shrugged with a sheepish grin.
Cissnei clasped her hands behind her back and stretched as she looked around. Unlike Reno, her face showed no reaction to the town, not even when she glanced back at Rude again.
"Have you ever been here before?"
He shook his head.
"First time for all of us," Reno added. "Ain't that right, Prof?"
Professor Rayleigh had climbed onto the back of the pickup and was rifling through one of her steel trunks.
"What?" she asked, looking up. "Oh," she added and turned back to her luggage. "Yes. My first time, too."
Reno grinned and opened his mouth, but Rude drove his elbow into his arm. So did Cissnei on her side, he noticed. Reno pouted as he rubbed his bicep, but stayed mercifully silent.
"So..." Cissnei pivoted around as she scanned the buildings that encircled them. "How do we get to the manor from here?"
As Rude did the same, he realized that only three major paths converged on the square. The village gate he had driven through was behind them, and a raised wooden walkway curved off deeper into the village. The only way further up the mountain was a wide stone stair beyond the water tower, carved into the rock itself.
"Won't get the truck up those stairs, and no way in hell am I draggin' all this science crap up 'em either." Reno looked over at the pair that had given him the evil eye before, but they pointedly avoided his gaze. "Heh. Guess I'll try the inn. Gotta fix us some rooms, anyway."
"While you do that, I'll see how chatty the locals are."
Cissnei nodded at the gate, pointing out a pair of girls in their late teens. Rude would have thought it too nippy for t-shirts and tiny shorts, but the girls seemed unbothered by the weather as they strolled into town. Reno's grin widened as he watched them.
"Put in a good word for me, yeah?"
Cissnei rolled her eyes and strode off. Rude settled for a sigh of resignation, feeling old beyond his years. Reno was technically a teenager, too, for another month or so. Cissnei was even younger.
Reno rolled his shoulders and slid his hands into his pockets.
"All right, let's get this done."
As he and Rude stepped away from the truck, the bang of a metal lid made them look back.
"Excuse me," Rayleigh called, and patted the lid she had just closed. "This is valuable Shinra property. We can't leave it unguarded."
It was a politely worded command. Rude glanced at Reno, and was not surprised to see the irritated squint on his face.
"What, you expect us to haul your shit around town?"
"No, I expect someone to stay here and guard it."
"Fine. If you're that worried about it, you watch the truck."
With that, Reno wandered off. Rude half-expected Rayleigh to protest, but she said nothing more as he followed Reno. He frowned and hastened his steps.
"One of us should stay," he said once he'd caught up with Reno.
"Relax, buddy. I'll tell Ciss to keep an eye on her. Or..." There was that shit-eating grin again, creeping back onto Reno's face. "You can go back and apologize for your asshole of a partner. Be her knight in a black suit, yo."
"No."
It wasn't the prospect of another half hour of silence in the professor's company. It was that Reno would think his little scheme was going somewhere.
Reno glanced up at him and smirked.
"Wanna play it cool, huh? Sure, man, whatever."
Rude sighed.
Cissnei had caught up with the girls near the inn and the three of them were hunched over a sheet of paper – a printed newsletter from one of the SOLDIER fan clubs, judging from what Rude could hear as he and Reno approached them. Despite their long, drawling vowels and the occasional patch of unfamiliar slang, Rude could understand most of their conversation. He had assumed as much – Shinra's history had intertwined with Nibelheim's for decades – but it was still odd to hear the official language of Midgar in this remote speck of a town, half a world away.
"No way!" exclaimed the girl with the brown ponytail and stared at Cissnei with round eyes.
"It's true," Cissnei said as she pulled out her PHS from a pocket. "I've got proof. Look."
She brought up something on the screen and showed it to the others. The girl with the glasses gasped.
"It really is him! You met Angeal!"
"You're so lucky," whined the other. "I'll bet he was even more gorgeous in person."
Cissnei pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and giggled. Fresh-faced and doe-eyed, she certainly looked the part of a sweet teenage girl. Only the suit marked her as something very different.
A chameleon, some called her. One who changed her colors to fit her environment.
Reno was a bit of one, too, but the personas he put on were all exaggerated aspects of his real self: the friendly drunk, the playboy, the ruthless bastard. To Rude's eyes, Cissnei seemed to become a different person altogether. Maybe it was only because he didn't know her very well, but it still made him uneasy. How would he ever get to know her if he couldn't tell which personality was her own?
"Who is that with him?" the girl with the ponytail asked, pointing at the screen.
Cissnei's smile softened to something sweeter.
"That's Zack. Zack Fair."
"Angeal was his mentor, right?"
Cissnei nodded, still smiling.
"Angeal sure had good taste in students," said the one with glasses.
"Zack is now First Class too, though," Cissnei pointed out. "I heard he might be getting his own fan club soon."
"I'm not surprised. Look at those arms."
The girls burst into giggles. Reno scoffed. Instead of slowing down on his way past them, he picked up his pace.
"C'mon, man, get a move on. Let's get this fuckin' done already."
Rude gave Reno a curious look as he stalked off toward the inn's front entrance. He noted the narrowed eyes and the tense shoulders, but decided it best to keep his observations to himself.
Rude followed Reno through the double doors into a haze of tobacco smoke and cooking fumes. He paused at the doors to let his eyes adjust. The clear mountain light outside had stung his eyes even through his dark lenses, but in here only a few ceiling lamps cast their dull light on the inn's bottom floor. No windows; stairs to the second floor on the right, two doors to the back. White plaster walls trimmed with the same reddish wood as the floor. A couple of gaunt old-timers seated by the counter. A pudgy man with a graying beard behind it, hunched over on his elbows. His face lit up as he looked them over.
"Come on in," he boomed as he straightened up. "I reckon you two are Shinra gents?"
"Yeah, that's us." Reno sauntered over to him. "Straight outta Midgar."
"That's what I figured. Fancy suits like that? Gotta be Midgar." The innkeeper flashed a broad smile. "Always good to see you folks dropping by our little village for a visit."
Rude took a second look around as he approached the counter, stooping under the low-slung beams that held up the ceiling. A few tables were scattered around the room, all of them currently empty. The shelf of bottles behind the innkeeper, along with the plates and the half-full glasses of beer in front of the old men by the counter, suggested this was also the village pub.
"Well, I reckon you gents have business at the reactor," the innkeeper continued. "Want me to find you a guide?"
"Naw, man, we're here to check out the Shinra manor. How do we get there?"
The innkeeper's smile vanished in an instant. "Take the stairs across the square."
He turned away, picked up a glass and started polishing it with the rag he kept around his neck. Reno and Rude traded a glance.
"Thing is, we got a truck. Got any roads up to the place?"
One of the old-timers jabbered something. Rude couldn't understand a single word of it, but the man's companion hacked out a laugh.
Reno planted his hands on his hips and sized up each of them in turn.
"You got somethin' you wanna tell me, old man?"
The man who had spoken stared at Reno, as he picked up a fried sausage from his plate and tore off half of it with nicotine-stained teeth.
"He says it's mighty nice of ya to visit the mansion," his friend said, his accent rolling thickly over his tongue. "The ol' place is getting hungry."
The first guy grinned as he chewed, turning his sausage into a slimy, red-brown mush right before their eyes.
"Go back the way you came," the innkeeper grumbled. "There's a fork in the road about a mile back."
"Don't say we didn't warn ya, though," the old guy added.
The Turks shared a look. Reno raised his eyebrows and tilted his head toward the doors. Rude was only too happy to nod in agreement. As they left, the old-timers wheezed in laughter behind them.
"What a bunch of weirdos," Reno muttered under his breath as they stepped out into the pale mountain sun.
He'd barely finished when someone crashed into him.
"Hey, watch it!"
Reno grabbed the gangly youth and held him at an arm's length by the scruff of his faded hoodie. The guy wasn't much shorter – or younger – than Reno, but he stared up at them with a wide-eyed naiveté that instantly marked him as "kid" in Rude's eyes.
"S-sorry, sir! I've come to report in."
"Huh?"
"I'm ready to sign up, sir!"
He peered at them hopefully. Reno gave Rude a bewildered look. He responded with a shrug.
"You're Shinra recruiters, right?" The kid looked from one to the other uncertainly. "For SOLDIER?"
Reno's face soured at the mention of SOLDIER, but he pasted on a smarmy smile as he let go of the guy's hoodie and patted it down.
"Sure, we're recruiters. You wanna be a SOLDIER, huh?"
Rude knew what that drawl meant, but the boy's head was bobbing up and down before Reno had finished his question.
"Cool. All you gotta do is come up to the manor house after nightfall."
The kid went pale.
"The, uh... Shinra place?"
"Yeah." Reno beamed at him. "That's where we're stayin'."
"I... Uh, maybe–"
"Awesome, kid. We'll talk all about your SOLDIER hopes and dreams when you get there. Make sure it's dark, tho'!"
Reno slapped him on the shoulder, making him lurch forward, then strode on toward the pickup truck.
"This whole damn town got a hard-on for SOLDIER?" he grumbled when Rude caught up with him. "What's so fuckin' great about 'em, huh? Nothin' but a bunch of juiced-up, glowy-eyed killin' machines, yo."
When Rude had met Reno, Zack Fair had been an occasional drinking buddy. Rude strongly suspected he and Reno had partnered up for a few of the more elaborate office pranks, too. Then Cissnei had joined the Turks, and been assigned to keep an eye on Fair.
It had been a long time since Reno and Fair last met up for drinks.
Cissnei was leaning against the truck, her hair lit up like bronze in the sun. She had a slight smile on her face; whether it was her own or for the benefit of curious observers, Rude didn't know.
"Anythin' to report?" Reno asked once they were beside her.
"Well, according to those girls I talked to we've ended up in the most mind-numbing hole in all of Gaia..." She opened her eyes fully and raised a hand to shield them. "Which also happens to have the creepiest abandoned mansion ever."
Reno snorted.
"You too, huh? You should've seen the show the old farts in there put on for us. Made it sound like somethin' out of a goddamn horror flick."
"Guess we'd best head on up there, then," she said with a crooked smile. "Did you get directions?"
"Yeah, we gotta go back the way we came some ways until we find a fork in the road."
Professor Rayleigh, who had taken a seat on one of her trunks in the back of the truck, looked up from her notebook.
"It's that far out of town?" She looked up at the mountains and frowned. "I know we planned to stay at the inn, but why not use the manor itself? Travelling back and forth will waste time I could spend on my work."
"She's got my vote."
Both Rude and Cissnei stared at Reno. He stared back.
"What? The sooner she's done, the sooner we can get the hell outta Weirdo-heim. Everybody wins, yo."
"Seriously?" Cissnei asked, echoing Rude's unspoken sentiments. "You want to hole up in some creepy remote mountain house?"
"It's better than havin' to fend off groupies and fuckin' SOLDIER wannabes every time I step out for a smoke!"
He spat it out. Rude frowned and glanced at Cissnei. She had pressed her lips into a tight line.
"Hell, the way these weirdos keep eyeballin' us," Reno continued, "I wouldn't be surprised to wake up and find 'em starin' at us as we sleep." He shuddered.
"The mansion's been empty for decades," Rude pointed out.
Reno huffed and stared up at the sky for a moment.
"We'll go up to the manor and take a look, okay? If it sucks too much ass, we can always come back here. Now let's get a move on. It'll be dark soon enough."
"Fine." Cissnei's smile held no warmth. "Your call."
The road they eventually found was little more than an overgrown set of tire tracks. It circled Nibelheim on a meandering path up the mountainside, until it joined up with a dirt road at the top of the rocky stair. From there it was only a few minutes' drive before the stone wall around Shinra manor came into view.
A woman was waiting for them by the gate. Her denim overalls hung loosely, cinched tight with a belt around her narrow waist. The blouse she wore underneath was buttoned up all the way to her neck. The tiny blue flowers dotting the white fabric reminded Rude of the dresses his mother liked to wear.
"So," she cawed, "you're the Shinra boys and girls."
Her skin was as thin as paper; crinkled around the mouth and eyes, and pulled taut over her forehead and cheekbones. Her hair was dark and thick enough to rival Reno's, though she kept it in a tidy ponytail. Her eyes seemed younger than her face, too, sharp and alert as she studied them each in turn. They could have been gray, they could have been blue; they were so pale that Rude couldn't tell for sure.
"I am Professor Dana Rayleigh," the professor said coolly and held out her hand. "I'm here to assess the mansion's suitability for my department's projects."
"Projects, eh? Well. Good luck to you. The old place can be... picky."
The woman peeled her lips back far enough to show both rows of teeth in a smile. It made Rude think of a grinning skull.
"Not as picky as us," Reno said, indicating the three of them. "We're here to go over whatever security this place has, make sure it's fit for these science guys."
"Turks," she said, eyeing their uniforms. "Yes. Well. I'm the custodian, as I imagine you've figured out if you're any good at your jobs. Euphemia Gubbins. That'll be Mrs. Gubbins to you lot."
Mrs. Gubbins turned around and pushed the gates. They jerked open like a twitching corpse, hinges screeching in protest with every shove. When the gap was wide enough for them to pass through, she stepped aside with a theatrical bow.
"Welcome to Shinra Mansion."
A broad stone-paved path, framed by knotty trees with bare branches, drew a straight line up to the manor. Two slim towers, topped by spires, rose from either side of the main entrance. Two rows of tall, narrow windows ran the entire width of the building, and a third row formed a series of miniature gables along the dark-tiled roof. Rude guessed the manor had once been sparkling white, but decades of grime had turned its walls a filthy gray.
"Well," said Reno. "This is creepy."
An eerie sensation crept down Rude's spine as the group approached the mansion. After the crisp breeze of the mountain road, the air within the mansion walls felt stale and perfectly still. He couldn't hear a thing beside the dull thuds of their feet hitting the weed-infested pavestones. If passing through the Nibelheim gate had felt like entering a different era, this felt like stepping into a dimension beyond time itself.
The main doors swung open with a tired creak to reveal a spacious foyer that spanned both floors. On the right, a wood-railed staircase curved upward to a second-floor landing, where a pale gloom sifted in through a trio of huge, ornate windows. The once-white walls were mottled with stains – whether it was mildew, soot from the Mako reactor, or both, Rude couldn't tell.
"The old place is in a bit of a state, I'm afraid." Mrs. Gubbins sniffed as she shut the door behind them. "Shinra pays me to keep the walls standing and the vermin out. They don't pay me to keep it spotless."
Rayleigh nudged a pile of rags with the toe of her shoe and wrinkled her nose.
"Is it actually in... livable condition?"
"Eh, I've lived in worse," Reno said with a shrug and wandered farther into the foyer as he looked around.
Mrs. Gubbins didn't exactly tilt her head, Rude mused. It slumped to the side and came to an abrupt halt, as though it was at the mercy of an invisible thread.
"Are you planning to stay here?" she asked, peering at Rayleigh.
"It's a possibility."
Her head rose slowly, pulled upright by that imaginary thread.
"Well! The bedrooms upstairs are in better shape than this. The kitchen's a bit old-fashioned, but everything ought to be working. Plumbing's fine, and I can have the water and power running within half an hour..." She nodded. "Well, sure. I mean it ain't fancy, but it's... livable."
"Could you show us the bedrooms, then?" Cissnei asked.
"Follow me."
The staircase protested with a chorus of groans as the five of them climbed to the second floor. Rude cast nervous glances at the steps beneath his feet, as did his traveling companions, but Mrs. Gubbins didn't seem worried. She led the way with her brisk, jerky gait, and turned left at the landing. A low stair brought them to a corridor, decorated with columns half-sunk into the walls. The layer of dust on the floor was thicker here and gathered in the creases of Rude's shoes.
"This is the south wing," she called over her shoulder. "It's mostly bedrooms, but there's a greenhouse at the end of the hall. A study, too." She stopped by the first door on the left and pushed it open. "Knock yourselves out."
Reno was the first to slink in. Rude stayed by the door and peeked inside, as did Cissnei. Dusty sheets shrouded all of the furniture, but it wasn't hard to guess which one concealed the bed. Rude suspected that under the rest lurked a couple of chairs and a dresser.
"Holy shit, this one's got a shower and everythin'!" Reno's voice echoed from what must have been the bathroom. "Callin' dibs!"
Cissnei glanced Rude and rolled her eyes, though there was a small smile on her face. Professor Rayleigh was frowning, though.
"Do you have anything closer to the library?" she asked Mrs. Gubbins.
"The master bedroom's in the north wing, but–"
"Perfect. I'll take that one."
Mrs. Gubbins gave her an unblinking stare, then shrugged.
"All right," she sang.
As the two of them headed back toward the landing, Cissnei sighed and looked at Rude.
"Please tell me I'm not the only one who thinks this is dumb."
"You're not."
"Well, that's a relief." She looked down the corridor, gently chewing on her bottom lip. "He's got a point, though. If this means Rayleigh gets done sooner..."
They both flinched as Reno bounced out of the room and draped his arms over their shoulders.
"Hey guys, isn't this cool? We've got a whole frickin' mansion to ourselves, yo!"
Reno had streaks of dust through his hair, and his face was split into a huge grin as he looked from one to the other. Cissnei looked at Rude and raised her eyebrows. Rude sighed and gave a nod.
As they stepped onto the landing, Rayleigh and Mrs. Gubbins appeared at the other end.
"I'll get the bedrooms fixed up for y'all later," the latter called. "I figure I oughta get the generator running first. Water, too, now that you'll be staying here."
"The house isn't on the power grid like the rest of the village?" Rayleigh asked.
"It used to be, back in the good old days, but the boys and girls up there on the mountain made some changes to the reactor some years back. Or maybe it was to do with the power grid..." She raised her hands. "I don't understand how it all works, to be honest, but they told me to stick with the generator until some Shinra engineer types have looked over the electrics."
"Some years back, and it still hasn't been fixed?"
Mrs. Gubbins revealed her teeth in that disturbing grin of hers.
"I guess our little town isn't a priority to the bigwigs over in Midgar."
A silence settled, but before it could stretch on too long, Reno clapped his hands together.
"Right guys, we got a plan. Time to get shit done."
While Mrs. Gubbins scuttled off to the generator, the rest of them headed back to the truck. The rumble of the engine as they drove it up to the mansion sank into the silence around them without a trace. Rude couldn't pick up on the slightest echo.
Was he the only one who noticed it? No one else remarked on it.
At the manor's front doors, Rude hauled the suitcases off the back of the pickup truck one by one, handing them off to Reno before jumping down to help carry them inside.
"Could someone give me a hand with this?" Rayleigh called.
Rude looked up to see that she had climbed onto the back of the truck, and was struggling with one of her metal trunks.
"Rude can help ya out," Reno piped up. "He's real good with his hands, yo."
His toothy grin was as wide as it was shameless. The guy was fully aware of his lack of subtlety, Rude was pretty sure of that. What he couldn't fathom was how Reno could possibly think it might have a good outcome.
Of course, it was possible he didn't expect it to lead anywhere good at all, Rude mused. Reno enjoyed his innuendos exactly as much as he enjoyed getting on people's nerves. With only four of them cooped up together, his targets were few.
This would be a long week.
Rude closed the door behind him and rolled his weary shoulders with a soft groan. The day was almost over at last.
His room was the next one over from Reno's. Mrs. Gubbins had rounded up a pair of nieces – one of them was the brown-haired girl Cissnei had talked to earlier – and had them whip the bedrooms into shape. They had done a better job than Rude had expected. The thick layer of dust was gone, and every wooden surface was polished to a shine. The double bed was made with crisp sheets that gave off a faint scent of lavender. It couldn't fully mask the lingering smell of musty wallpaper, but there was little anyone could do about that on such short notice.
Rude took off his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair, then shrugged out of his shoulder holster. He removed the gun from its holster and checked the clip. As usual, he took the opportunity for a bit of handling practice. Racking the slide and thumbing off the safety was coming to be second nature, but the weight of a firearm still felt strange in his hands. He was a brawler by nature, and preferred to keep it that way.
Rude holstered the weapon and set it down on the chair. While Turks were expected to wield more than just their fists, this was hardly the kind of mission that called for him to be armed at all times. He wasn't sure the presence of a Turk was required at all; much less three. Orders were orders, though. A slow mission was still a mission, and Rude was prepared.
His room may not have had its own bathroom like Reno's, but it did have a walk-in closet. Rude pulled his suitcase inside and hung up his clothes, taking the time to smooth out the inevitable travel wrinkles as best he could. A manor like this was bound to have an ironing board tucked away somewhere. He made a mental note to ask Mrs. Gubbins.
His suitcase was unpacked. On his way out, Rude gave the room a cursory scan. After a couple of steps, he stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the chair.
His pistol was gone.
Rude's whole body flooded with adrenaline – but it took him only a second to spot his weapon.
On the bed.
After a careful look around, Rude slowly stepped up to the gun. It was still strapped into its holster, just as he'd left it. He picked it up for a closer inspection, but nothing about the gun itself was different.
He must have zoned out, Rude decided. It had been a long day, full of travel, and he was tired.
Rude placed the holster on the chair. After a few moments of deliberation, he brought out his phone and snapped a picture of it. He gave it some more thought, then stepped into a corner and took a shot of the whole room.
Just in case.