When he got back to the car, he beeped the horn loudly. The police officer jumped, and Annette visibly sighed in relief. She peeled Chuck's hands away from her waist and said goodbye, sauntering back to the car as if she was on the catwalk.

"Oh my god, that man was repulsive. He wanted to meet me after work and take me back to his place, then he started going on about what he was going to do to me when we got there. I'm telling you, you got out here just in the nick of time." She took her shoes off and re-buttoned her blouse. "Did you get everything you needed?"

"Yeah, thanks for that. You have to be the best social worker in the world." He mustered up the best smile he could, and hoped it would cut it.

"Aw, that's so kind!" She said as she started the car. "I care a lot about my job. I guess I just want to make that extra bit of difference, you know? I grew up in care too, and my social worker was a complete and utter bitch."

"Go on"

"My stepfather was the sort who enjoyed a drink... And he was violent. I'm sure you can fill in the blanks." She smiled unconvincingly. "I don't want any other child to go through what I did."

"That's very inspiring. I can tell you are a really good person."

"I like to think so, and I think you are too." She turned to him and smiled. "Here we are. It's not exactly the Ritz, but it's fairly nice. I stayed here for a while when I was assigned my first case here in Amity Park." She put her sensible shoes back on and pushed the killer heels back under the seat. "We'd better go."

It was really quite dark outside and it was raining ever so slightly. They got out of the car and headed to the main entrance of the hotel.

It was rather plain on the outside, just a large building with the letters "HOTEL" printed on the front, with four stars under the name. Danny was no hotelier, probably because most of this family vacations were spent in the Fenton RV or in tent studying ghost activity. He hated every second he spend on uncomfortable makeshift beds, either cramped in the RV, cramped in a tent or, worst case scenario, outside 'under the stars'. He abstractly thought that as strange as it may be, he was going to greatly miss those vacations.

The lobby was very nice. The floors were tiled in some kind of marble-like stone, and there were brown obviously-expensive leather sofas and large potted plants. There was a huge fountain centrepiece bang in the middle of it all, with a large sign reading 'Welcome'. There were important-looking people dotted around going through files and typing into laptops.

In truth, Danny had no idea what the Ritz was, but this place surely couldn't be far off.

They approached the reception. A man stood behind the counter, looking mostly bored.

"Good evening, can I help you?"

"Yes, my name is Annette Jones and I booked a room over the phone earlier tonight under the name 'Fenton'."

"Ah, just let me check."

Danny wandered over to a large TV that was pinned to the wall. It was the news coverage of what had happened earlier that night at the Nasty Burger. He was distracted by his phone vibrating once more. He pulled it out of his pocket and saw Vlad's number on the screen. He frowned as he slid the phone back into his pocket. He couldn't keep doing this. He was going to see Vlad in less than 24 hours, there was very little to gain from avoiding his calls.

"Here we go." Annette said as she handed Danny the keys to his room. "Room 334, he says it's on the third floor, and to turn right when you get out of the elevator, okay?"

"Yes, and thank you Annette, for everything" He smiled at her, genuinely.

"It's my pleasure to help. Here's my card, if you need anything, give me a call without hesitation." She placed the card in Danny's hand, but didn't let go, and smiled sadly. "I know things look impossibly awful right now, but everything will work out okay, Danny. I promise." She tightened her grip on his hand, before releasing it.

"The taxi will be outside at 10am sharp tomorrow morning to take you to the air port." She turned to leave, and then turned back again. "Oh my, I'm such an idiot." She said, whilst rummaging in her bag. She pulled out a plane ticket. "I almost forgot to give you your plane ticket!"

Danny took the plane ticket and let out a small laugh. "Thanks. I'll see you around."

"I hope so, Danny, I really do."

His room was really quite nice. The first thing he noticed was how big the bed was. Everything was crisp and white, clean to the point of obsession.

He dumped his stuff on the floor next to the bed and took out some clean clothes, before heading to the shower.

He hadn't had time to wash since the explosion. What with being hauled into an ambulance and then to the morgue, he really didn't have much chance to do anything at all.

The bathroom was fairly basic. A toilet and sink with a large mirror and various complimentary toiletries. He picked up the bottle labelled 'shampoo and conditioner', as well as a bar of soap and a sponge, and turned on the shower.

It looked so very warm and inviting as he took off his wrecked clothing. The usually white T-shirt was singed and covered in ash and blood and god knows what, we were his jeans. His converse survived, but could really do with a bit of a clean.

It was only now that he could see the full extent of the damage done by both the battle and the explosion. His ribs were quite badly bruised, going on the shades of purple on his skin. He had various scratches and scrapes all over the place. He had a rather deep gash on his shoulder and his lip he was sporting a split lip. Other than that, he seemed to have gotten off lightly. At least he was still alive, others weren't so lucky.

He climbed in the shower and winced as the water penetrated his various injuries, before he started to get used to it, and enjoy the feeling of the warm water on his skin. It felt nice, it was relaxing.

The water going down the plug hole was a disgusting mixture of blood and dirt, mostly blood. That couldn't be healthy. That being said, he did let the paramedics give him the once over. Well, sort of.

...

Okay, he didn't. He sat there for five or so minutes whilst they rambled on about smoke inhalation and some other rubbish, let them shine a light in his eyes, the standard stuff. As soon as they were looking in the opposite direction, he bolted to the scene of the explosion and, needless to say, regretted it almost instantaneously. He was met with the most horrific, disturbing sight that he'd ever seen – and he'd seen every instalment of Final Destination to date.

A gut wrenching sob somehow escaped from deep in his chest where he'd been keeping it contained since the explosion. He was, without doubt, utterly devastated. He slapped a hand over his mouth, blinked hard, and breathed deeply. In through the nose, out through the mouth – or was it in through the mouth and out through the nose? He could feel it coming. A pure, violent, raging panic was growing inside of him, he could feel despair clawing at the surface and he wasn't quite sure how to stop it.

But he had to, right? If he let grief and sorrow sink its teeth into him, then it would never let go, and he would drown in it. And that all sounded very depressing and, sure, teenagers kill themselves all the time. It's a tough world out there and shit happens. But this was different – he wouldn't just be killing himself, he'd be destroying everything because that monster would be born and he'd kill everyone in his path. Not fun.

He had to focus on other things, and what better to focus on than obtaining Tucker's PDA.