Damon pushed the door open to the office, a small bell above the door ringing out as they entered.
The room was dimly lit, with a single flickering fluorescent light overhead.
The air was thick with the smell of stale cigarettes and old books.
Inside, on the other side of the desk, sat an old lady, her grey hair pulled back into a tight bun.
She looked bored, her eyes fixed on a book in her lap. A pair of glasses perched on the end of her nose, and a pen was tucked behind her ear.
The desk itself was cluttered, with stacks of papers and old receipts scattered across its surface.
A small clock ticked away on the wall behind her, the sound echoing through the silent room.
Damon's eyes adjusted slowly to the dim light, taking in the details of the room. Aoife followed close behind, her eyes fixed on the old lady.
The old lady looked up as they entered, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in Damon and Aoife. She set her book aside, her movements slow and deliberate.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice gruff and unfriendly.
Damon stepped forward, his heart pounding in his chest. "We need a room," he said, his voice firm and clear.
The old lady raised an eyebrow, her eyes flicking to Aoife. "How long?" she asked, her voice a little softer.
Damon hesitated, unsure of what to say. "For a week," he said finally, hoping that would be enough.
The old lady nodded, her eyes flicking back to Damon. "Room 17," she said, her voice monotone. "That'll be $245."
Damon nodded, his hand reaching into his pocket for the money. Aoife stood beside him, her eyes fixed on the old lady with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
As Damon handed over the money, the old lady's eyes flicked to Aoife, then back to him. "You two okay?" she asked, her voice a little softer.
Damon nodded, his heart swelling with pride. "We're fine," he said, his voice firm and clear.
The old lady nodded, her eyes flicking back to the book in her lap. "Room 17," she said again, her voice monotone. "Down the hall, second door on your left."
She sighed, looking as they left, her eyes fixed on Damon's clean clothes and Aoife's dirty clothes.
She stared at Aoife for longer, her gaze lingering on the worn-out fabric and the stains that dotted the cloth.
Then, she shook her head, her expression a mix of sadness and resignation.
Damon forgot, and turned back to the office. "What about the key?" he asked, his voice firm and clear.
The lady stood up, her movements slow and deliberate. She went behind the desk, took some time, and you could hear key sounds as she checked the right one. "Here," she said, handing him a small, rusty key. "Make sure to not lose it, otherwise you'll have to pay for it."
Damon nodded, his hand closing around the key. "Thank you," he said, his voice filled with gratitude.
They left the office, staring at the keys in Damon's hand. He looked at his mother, who was looking at him as well.
They walked up the rail stairs, their footsteps echoing through the silent hallway. They walked towards room 17, the number etched on the door in bold, black letters.
Damon saw the door, and put the key in the lock. He turned it, and it gave him some trouble a bit. He was gentle, not wanting to break it.
He jiggled the key, and finally, there was a click. The door opened, creaking on its hinges.
Damon pushed the door open, and stepped aside, letting Aoife enter first. She walked in, her eyes scanning the room.
Damon followed, his heart pounding in his chest. He closed the door behind them, and locked it, the sound echoing through the room.
Damon looked around the room, taking in every detail. The room had two beds, each a single bed, with clean white sheets and a few pillows.
There was a TV on a small table, its screen dusty but intact. Damon stared at it for a while, mesmerized by the thought of watching TV again.
He hadn't watched one since years, and the idea of sitting in front of a screen, flipping through channels, felt like a luxury.
His mother was also ecstatic, her eyes shining with excitement as she took in the room.
She instantly dashed towards the door that Damon assumed led to the bathroom, eager to see the inside. She pushed the door open and disappeared from view.
Damon heard the sound of running water, and his mother's excited voice, "Damon, it has a shower! And it's clean!" He smiled, feeling a sense of relief wash over him.
Despite the location, and the exterior of the motel, it really had clean and good rooms.
He walked over to the bed, feeling the softness of the mattress. He sat down, running his hand over the sheets, feeling the smooth fabric.
He lay back, closing his eyes, feeling a sense of exhaustion wash over him.
The sound of running water stopped, and his mother came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her hair. "Damon, you should take a shower too," she said, smiling. "It'll make you feel better."
Damon chuckled, "Mom, I already showered today, how was it?" Aoife laughed, and began talking, her voice filled with excitement.
They chatted for hours, the whole night, until Aoife's eyes began to droop. She yawned, and snuggled under the blanket.
Damon smiled, and tucked her in. He then stood up, stretching his arms over his head. He walked over to his bed, and sat down, feeling the softness of the mattress. He opened the system interface, and a message popped up.
[CONGRATULATIONS FOR WINNING ALL YOUR FIGHTS]
Damon's eyes lit up, as he read the message. He felt a surge of pride and happiness.
He nodded, his heart swelling with excitement. He got his reward, the fight points (FP).
[MATCH DETECTED NEXT SATURDAY, TRAINING PROGRAM ORGANIZED]
Damon's eyes narrowed, as he read the message. He had a match next Saturday, and a training program was already organized.
He nodded, his mind racing with strategies and techniques. He needed to be prepared for the next fight.
He closed the system interface, and lay back on the bed, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over him.
He had a roof over his head, a bed to sleep in, and a chance to fight for a better life.
He smiled, and closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion take over.