Chapter Twenty-Eight:

Posted With Demons

The silver Audi pulled up in front of a magnificent hotel that was damn near a skyscraper. Outrun Hotel had about twenty-seven floors and it all had an incredible beachside view. The palm trees that framed the white-gold path that led to the front of the hotel waved in late afternoon summer air. The sky was spotless and the sound of the ocean was in the distance. Steven parked right in front at the designated space, a meter-less parking that was for those checking into the hotel. He stepped out and got Festival's door for her, walking the Flareon girl to the entrance. The ingress was elaborate in its display: full of tropical themed images etched upon the surface. The circular glass door screamed ultramodern and yet it seemed nostalgic, as if echoing the art deco style of another, far gone time—a touch of the zeerust. He opened the door for her and she marveled at the interior: white floors, pale walls and a collection of ferns that gave the front desk a warm aesthetic. Steven waved at the receptionist, escorting Festival to the elevator, located at the end of a warm, eggshell colored hallway. The place was covered in mirrors and transoms, perhaps to make it look bigger than it was. The lobby was pretty spacious, but the building itself was enormous. Steven pressed the button and elevator doors instantly slid open. He gestured for Festival to step in, like a true gentleman. She listened, smiling at the fact that even the elevators were decorated to a posh standard and smelled distinctly of potpourri. He walked in, pressing the top floor button: the penthouse suite that belonged to him and his father. The doors shut and lights on the elevator's display screen dinged one by one until they reached the twenty-seventh floor. This floor only had one room and it was the largest room in the Outrun Hotel. It had huge window that made up half of the room's length and the window overlooked not only the hotel's pool, but the beach, half the city and the Oceanview Hills and their respective pastures could be seen. The skyline was magnificent. The décor was simplistic—a warm toned mica floor, neon toned Memphis patterns etched onto the walls, a very spacious bathroom and a walk-in closet, as well as a miniature kitchen that boasted a mini fridge and a mini bar. The bedroom area was comfortable, with two water palms used as decorations in marble pots. The bed itself was king sized, with pastel colored sheets. The light fixtures were embedded in the ceiling and the sides of the walls. It had a neon filter, giving it the distinctive New Palm City vaporwave aesthetic. Festival politely took off her shoes and sat down on the floral patterned settee that reminded her of the one in Jasper's office in Babylon Nights.

"Make yourself comfortable," Steven said, going to the mini bar. Festival watched him crack out a bottle of Armand de Bronzong and two ornamental glasses.

"Oh…you…drink? Aren't you seventeen?"

"Yeah? So?" Steven said, "I mean its champagne…it not a big deal. I'm sure you've drank before."

"Umm…yeah…I've drank 4 Lokos."

Steven snorted in amusement, "Yeah, that's garbage. You…need finer stuff and I have it."

"I didn't really like it," Festival said, "It made me really…sick. And I was at party I shouldn't have been at."

"Eh, it happens," Steven said, pouring himself a glass and one for Festival. He walked over, handing it to her. She tentatively accepted it and took a sip. It was somewhat dry and she wasn't sure she too liked the taste. At least 4 Loko had a juicy flavor to it. This was…something else entirely.

"Ace of Hearts, Armand de Bronzong," Steven said, "My dad's favorite champagne…always buying the good stuff."

"Is this your dad's suite?"

"Yeah… mine is below," Steven said, "Penthouse is more impressive. My dad is doing his business right now. He won't be back 'til later."

"You're staying…til the end of summer?"

"Yep and then it's back to Rustboro," Steven said, sipping the champagne, "It's a lot colder there. Eh…I don't mind the cold really."

"I do," Festival said, giggling as she sipped her drink.

"Easy now, it's still alcohol," Steven said to her with a smirk. He sipped his champagne and set it down on the glass table that was beside him.

"You know, you…are very nice. I like you Festival. You're beautiful too."

"T-thank you," Festival said, blushing a lot, "Sometimes I feel like…everyone sees me like a little kid."

"I mean we're both kids," Steven said.

"You don't seem like a kid to be honest," Festival said, "You drive a car—"

"It's my dad's car," Steven said laughing.

"But you still don't seem like a kid…I don't know. My sister don't really seem like a kid either. I guess it just depends…."

"It does, it's all a matter of perspective…"

Festival smiled sweetly, finishing the champagne. He poured her another glass and she obliged, drinking it. She was acquiring the taste very quickly. He moved closer to her and she blushed again.

"When I'm near you, I feel your warmth," he said.

"Oh…yeah, everyone says that," Festival said, her eyes wide. She took another mouthful of the champagne and sighed, feeling the slight sting of the alcohol and the buzz.

"Want some more?"

"Yeah, y-yeah, it tastes good."

Steven walked over to the bottle and poured her another glass. Soon, they began talking about school and what they wanted to be.

"I wanna be an artist," Festival said, halfway through her fourth drink. She felt lightheaded, but fire types had excellent alcoholic tolerance, even for someone her height, age and inexperience.

"Yeah? That's lovely. I'm…probably gonna end up running the company once my dad retires. Armory Corps….it sounds boring, doesn't it? Wouldn't it be nice to go on adventures and just have fun?"

Adventures are dangerous. "Um…yeah."

"Art is a blessing," Steven said, getting up and walking around, drink in hand, "You wouldn't believe how many artists I've met. My dad loves art, but he prefers the more utilitarian kind."

"Um…I like watercolors and color pencils," Festival said. Steven poured her another glass and she tossed it back. "It'sss…pretty fuun…I useeeed to paint…a lot. Um…not as…much anymore…"

"Oh?" Steven set his glass down, "Why?"

"Cuz…lifeee…is…sh-sh…uh…" Festival hiccupped, "It's shitty…sorry for the l-language…and my mom…and dad...don't g-get along…"

"Ah…"

"My dad is…kinda…" Festival burped a little, "Oh…Arceus. Sorry…I'm tryna say…my dad is…a wild…card."

"Wild card?" Steven said, "Is he… someone I should be scared of….?"

"Y-yes," Festival said, "H-he's…v-very…like…a big deal…he's…" she took a deep breath, "Oh boy…"

"Here," Steven poured her some water, "Drink up."

Festival took the water and sipped it, feeling the buzz starting to lessen a tad, "I love him s-so much…but s-sometimes I feel like…he h-hates me because…he hates my mom and I look like my mom. I feel weird about my dad…sometimes I don't think he is my dad. He d-d-doeesn't…really act like a dad…it's confusing…"

"Hmm. What does he act like?"

"I-I d-don't know…but…I don't think he really likes me…or maybe he does…a-and I'm just…n-not seeing it…"

"I'm sure he does. You're a likable person."

"Y-you don't really know me," Festival burped.

"Well, no, but I'd like to get to know you. And you seem nice you're pleasant to be around. Yeah…a little naïve…but that's…cute. A lot girls I've been with—erm, nevermind. How are you feeling?"

"Comfy…and…happy," Festival said, smiling at him. Steven walked over to her as he slid off his gloves, touching her face. He was surprisingly gentle.

"So…then…could I kiss you?"

Her eyes became large as the sun and she nodded slowly. Steven gently picked her up and laid her on the bed, kissing her. She enjoyed the kissing and so, she kissed back. He broke the kiss and ran his hands down her body. She shivered in delighted anticipation, but also trepidation. He unbuttoned her shirt and kissed her again, holding her still. She kissed back, not sure what to do with her hands. He gripped her hips and slid down her skirt, throwing it aside as he got on top of her. He continued to kiss her, growing excited as she meekly kissed back. He slipped her some tongue and she squeaked, not used to this style of kissing at all (or any style, for that matter). He unzipped his jeans and took her hand, placing it over his visible erection. Her eyes went wide as he began removing her bra.

"W-wait…" she whined, covering herself. Steven paused for a moment, visibly frustrated.

"What?"

"Um…I…I'm not sure—"

"Yeah? Not sure?" Steven asked, still over her, "Do you want to stop? 'Cause I don't…."

"Um…I—"

He didn't wait for her answer as he kissed her again, squeezing her hips and thumbing a nipple. She let out an involuntary moan and melted underneath his touch. He slid down her underwear but she hesitated.

"W-wait," she started again. Steven sighed, his pupils now exasperated pinpoints.

"What?" He asked more sharply than he intended.

"Slow down…I'm…I never did this before."

"I can tell," Steven said, "Don't worry, I got you."

"B-but, b-but I j-just met you," Festival whimpered.

"So…?" Steven said, rubbing her hip, "I just met you too."

"A-and you're c-cool with this?" She squeaked. He kissed her again, hungrily this time, too aroused to just stop. Festival broke the kiss and asked again, "A-are you cool with this?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Steven said, staring at her. Festival stared back. His normally mellow eyes looked terrifyingly inhuman. The pupils were too small and his yellow irises were mildly glowing. Her heart skipped a beat.

"B-because you d-don't know me," she whispered.

He laughed a little, rubbing her lips, "I don't need to know you to fuck you. And you don't need to know me to fuck me either."

"B-but isn't this kind of stuff special?"

He pulled her closer, "It can be."

"S-so wouldn't it b-better if we knew each other?"

Steven gave her a dry look, "We can get to know each other after, yeah?" He kissed her again and Festival kissed back, taken in with how good it felt. He slid down his pants and grind against her, lifting her legs.

"W-wait," Festival squeaked, covering her face, "Wait."

"Yes?" Steven said, gritting his teeth.

"This isn't right—maybe…"

"Maybe you should trust me," Steven said, kissing her neck.

"I don't know you," Festival pointed out. He looked at her, smiling.

"We will know each other soon enough," he said, entering her. Her eyes went wide as she grasped the bedsheets. The feeling was overwhelming. It felt good, but when he started to thrust, she began to panic. She gripped the bed sheets tighter and let out a choked moan when he started to speed up. He grunted, his talons tearing into the sheets, making ripping noises as he started to buck against her. She moaned again and then felt her brain go to a dark place. She panicked and screamed out. Her brown eyes turned orange-red, like a ruby encased in flames and she overheated, burning the sheets and Steven. He immediately withdrew, screaming as he held his burned forearm. Festival cried out, mentally snuffing the flames. She rolled off the bed, crying now. Steven, however, stumbled to the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet. He found a burn heal and sprayed it on his arm. He squawked in pain when the spray came in contact with seared flesh. He growled, emptying the whole spray on his wound. The searing pain of the burn subsided as his flesh began to heal, leaving an unpleasant scorch mark that would probably fade in a few days. He punched the mirror, shattering it and walked out. Festival was on the floor, covering her face as she cried.

"Holy…fuck," Steven hissed, "What the fuck is wrong with you? You burned me!"

"Y-you wouldn't stop," Festival bawled, hastily grabbing her clothes. Steven pulled up his pants and zipped up his fly.

"So you burn me!?"

"I d-didn't do it on purpose," Festival said, "I-I was panicking…I told you t-to wait…why d-didn't you listen?"

"You told me to wait….oh yeah," Steven sighed, "Listen, I'm not trying to hurt you or anything, I was just…too into it. I'm just…trying to have some fun before the summer ends. Aren't you?"

Festival was still weeping, her shoulders shaking. She reached for her phone, texting Mardi.

Festival: please come get me

I'm at Outrun Hotel with this boy

Please come get me

I'm on the top floor

Mardi: festival

The fuck?

What boy?

Fine…fuck

I'ma take a Drop

Be there in fifteen

"Who are you texting…" Steven asked.

"I-I just wanna go home…" Festival whimpered.

"Yeah…listen…I'm trying to get laid…and…" Steven rolled his eyes, "Why are you—"

"I never did this before," Festival cried.

"Will you stop crying?" Steven shouted, becoming frustrated again, "I'm the one who got burned, man. This scorch mark is going to take days to go away."

"I-I can't s-stop," Festival sniveled, checking herself. There were a few droplets of blood and she began crying again. Steven walked over to her.

"Stop crying," he growled, "You're going to have people below us hear you."

"I-I…I…" Festival panicked once more, looking at him. Her eyes began to glow vermillion again.

"Burn me again and I'll cut your throat open," Steven snarled, revealing that his teeth were sharper than she realized.

"P-please…I'm just a kid…" she cried out, "I didn't wanna d-do this. I s-said wait…I said w-wait."

Steven glared at her, "Just…fucking go…"

"I…I…I'm s-sorry…I…thought you were nice…I-I guess not."

"Have I not been nice?" Steven snapped, "I'm leaving at the end of the summer. Do you really think I was going to wait? I'm never going to see you again. I know you're naïve, but this was going to be a one time, maybe two time thing. I'm not…trying to date anyone here. This place is full of women who are junkies and addicts."

"I-I'm not that—"

"Yeah, I get that, and that's why I liked you," Steven said, staring her down, "You're clean, you aren't doped up…you're cute. What's so hard about…just…giving in?"

"S-Steel types…they're just...mean, a-aren't they?" Festival yelped, "Oh—no, I d-didn't mean that."

Steven snorted and walked over to her, grabbing her by her hair, "I could be mean. I could be rough. I'm sure you'll like that."

"W-wait, no—"

"Then stop wasting my time and leave," Steven shouted at her, "NOW." He let go of her hair and she scrambled to get her purse and shoes. But before she could put them on there was a loud knock on the door.

"Who's there?"

"Open the motherfuckin' door before I kick it open!" Mardi shouted. Steven groaned angrily and walked over, opening the door. Mardi shoved him aside and saw Festival getting her shoes on, her face stained with tears and her clothes rumpled. She turned and looked at Steven.

"First of all, who IS you and what the fuck did you do to my sister?"

Steven stared at her, "Huh? Who are YOU? And I don't know you! I didn't know that's your sister!"

Mardi slapped the shit out of him, but it barely did anything to Steven. He didn't even flinch. Instead, Mardi recoiled, rubbing her hand.

"Ow…"

"What the hell is wrong with you? Who are you? And this one was just leaving. She burned me."

"GOOD!" Mardi shrieked at him, "Nigga you look twenty! She's fourteen! And—" she sniffed the air, "You fuckboy ass nigga tryna give her alcohol." She glanced at the sheets ruffled on the bed, "And she cryin'! Why you cryin' Fes!?"

"I…a-asked him to stop and h-he wouldn't. I freaked out and b-burned him."

"Yeah…good that you burned him," Mardi barked, "The fuck is this."

"Yeah, she went out with me by her own choice, she came here of her own volition. It was her choice to drink."

"Nigga, suck my dick," Mardi yelled, "Festival come on, the Drop's outside. If ever see you around my sister again I'ma electrocute you so bad yo eyes will pop out yo eye socket, you heard me nigga?"

"Just go you fucking hoodrats," he said, dismissing them. Festival got her shoes on and walked out of the penthouse with Mardi who gave him an obscene gesture and went to the elevator with Festival. She was still weeping quietly and Mardi sighed, pressing the button to get to the lobby.

"Now I see why Jasper be freakin' the fuck out with me," Mardi said tiredly, "And witchu. Damn—"

"I know! I'm stupid! I'm so stupid! I'm sorry! I thought he was cute and he was nice and funny! And I don't know why I let him—"

"You ain't let him do shit," Mardi said to her, "Nigga is fuckin' creep. Not all creeps are busted ass old niggas who smell bad. That nigga fine as fuck but he's a creep. Fuck him! Fuck him and his penthouse and his fuckin' perm! Dumbass bitch, I ought go back up there and clap the shit outta him. I would too—if his defense stat wasn't so fuckin' high…" she massaged her mildly sore hand.

"He's seventeen…"

"Yeah? So he 'bout my age. Fuck him anyways. Rich pretty boy ass. Called us hoodrats too, fucking scunt. EAT MY ASS YOU BITCH!" She called out from the elevator.

Festival sniffed. The elevator doors slid open and they walked outside to the Drop that was waiting for them. They both got into the back seat and the driver pulled off, heading back to Cherry's duplex.

"C-can I tell you something?" Festival said.

Mardi, who was on her phone, set it aside and listened, "Yeah, tell me."

"The first…boy…I ever kissed was in middle school. But…the first…guy that ever did anything to me…was at a club…called The Surf. He was a steel type, like Steven, but a lot older, like…almost as old as dad."

"…What happened with him?"

"I was with Jazmin, ya know, cousin Jazmin."

"Yeah…I know, wha'bout her?"

"I was with her and her boyfriend, um…Talon, I think," Festival explained, "And we were invited to this club. A huge party was going on and for some reason, we were allowed in because Jazmin's boyfriend was cool with the dude who …I guess…ran the club? I think he ran the club…"

"Yeah, yeah…go on," Mardi said.

"Well anyways, I was sitting with them for a bit. And…I got drunk and whatnot. And I just…wandered off. I wanted to see the rest of the club. So…I sat around the bar to get some juice. This…man, saw me. Um…I don't remember his name. But I remember he wore shades indoors to kinda conceal the fact…he had three eyes, because he was of…the Magnezone line."

"Mmmhm…"

"He was very nice to me…and um…we talked. And talked. And then, he put his hand in my…muffin pouch…and starting, wriggling around up there."

Mardi grimaced, looking disgusted, "Fuck…"

"And I was so freaked out I didn't know what to do. He was trying to get me to go to his car. This…Lopunny woman, however, intervened…and told him that, at the time, I was thirteen. He stopped…and left me alone. And then shortly after…a…shootout happened…and…I was in the middle of all of it. I never really told anyone this…I told daddy…but not about the part where I was fingered."

"Arceus…" Mardi muttered.

"So…I thought maybe I didn't like steel types. But here's this guy…he's so handsome, and nice and he's closer to my age. And I thought…yeah, I would like to kiss him and I would like…to get to know him and I wouldn't mind if he held my hand, or touch my hip or something. But he just…wanted to get to the sex stuff, right away and…and…and…I was stupid enough to follow him to the hotel. I feel so dumb, Mardi. Boys…are…they…never want to be your friend or your girlfriend, just something…to mess with."

"Yep," Mardi said, "Yeeeeeeeeeep."

"So…maybe I was right."

"Nah," Mardi said, "Steel…ain't got shit to do with it. It's not the type, it the type of nigga. That nigga you met in the club, fuckin' pervert pedo creep, iight? You ain't look no type of grown. So for him to be stickin his nasty ass fingers in yo cooch…is disgustin'. And you shoulda told dad so he could whoop that moffucka's ass. This nigga, uh—"

"Steven," Festival said.

"He a fuckboy," Mardi said, "I met a lot of them niggas back in Los Lados. These niggas are erry'where, Fes. And…you gon' meet some of them. And you prolly gon' get played by some of them too. Here's a few tips. Listen…if some nigga tryna get you to go back to his hotel mad quick…he tryna fuck. He ain't lookin' for nothin' serious. Just cuz he nice…and buy you food or some shit—if he tryna just…get you in a place, where it's just him…he just tryna fuck. And that's all he tryna do. Smash and dash, hit and quit, cum and run…that shit. And he wasn't 'bout to stop, cuz mons be like that sometimes. We feel deeply. And we also feel arousal deeply. Festival…don't fall for this fuckboy shit. He coulda hurt you…"

"I ended up hurting him."

"Good. It ain't ideal, and that's another reasons niggas need to not do shit—cuz y'all gonna fuck with the wrong one and get burnt the fuck up. But he learned his fuckin' lesson…I hope."

"Probably not."

"Wha'ver the case…it ain't about the type," Mardi said, putting an arm around Festival, "It's about the type of nigga. And he a fuckboy. But don't worry. You gon meet someone nice. Whether it be a fire type, water type, a human, wha'ever. Just don't be settlin' for no fuckboys. Unless…all you tryna do is fuck too."

Festival giggled, wiping her tears, "Yeah…I see. Thank you, Mardi."

"No problem," Mardi said, swiping through her phone. The Drop sailed down the local roads, weaving through light traffic.