Welcome to the Hotel Oklahoma

Cast[]

Chapter 1: On a Dark Desert Highway[]

"It was the easiest case Artie, I swear!"

Pete leaned into the view of the Farnsworth propped up on the dashboard of the car.

"These ladies had the whole thing sorted in under an hour. I'd have felt totally useless if they hadn't needed a distraction."

"Hrm, if there's one thing we can rely on you for..." Artie replied wryly from the fisheye lens. "The artifact?"

Bri triumphantly thrust an arm between the seats from the back, a silvery bag in her hand. "Safe and secure!" she announced, "The residents of Smalltown, Oklahoma can once again enjoy their shakes riot-free." She pulled the bag back and extended out a large paper cup, which Pete tapped with his own.

"Cheers to that!" he said, taking a loud sip from the straw.

"Right, good." Artie replied unenthusiastically. "Sorry I couldn't get you a flight home, but the budget is still bit tight after all that mess last month. You best bet is to find a cheap motel for the night. There should be hundreds on Route 66."

"Yeah, we've passed a few..." said Myka, her eyes not leaving the road. "They were just...you know...motel-y."

Artie gave a chuckle. "You're telling me. The places James and I had to put up with on some cases..." His face curled into a nostalgic frown before he snapped back to his usual self. "Anyway, you've been on the road for over a day and you need to sleep. Regent orders, health and safety regulations and so on. Just stop at the next place, get a few hours, back on the road before anything has time to hitch a ride on your clothes."

Myka's face contorted into a look of revulsion. "Thanks for that image, Artie. Fine, I'll stop soon. I think I see a place coming up anyway. I'll give you a call as soon as we're on the road again."

"Good, good." Artie leaned in to switch off the device, but caught himself at the last second. "One more thing," he said, "Don't let the artifact out of your sight please." With that the screen went dead.

On the road ahead, a neon light reading "NO VACANCY" shone thought the dark.

"Damn," Myka muttered to herself. "That place doesn't actually look to disgusting, either."

Pete and Bri craned their necks around to see the approaching motel, a 60s styled two-story complex that looked almost comically out-of-place among the arid plains they'd been driving along as it got dark. As they got closer, the "NO" part of the sign suddenly blinked out.

Myka slowed down, shooting a querying glance at Pete. "Maybe someone just signed out?" she ventured.

"I don't see any cars around." Bri pointed out. The well-lit parking lot seemed completely empty.

Pete shrugged and took another sip of his milkshake, the hollow rattle indicating he'd reached the bottom of his cup. "We might not get another chance at a place this nice." he said. "I say we take our chances."

Myka looked back at Bri, who gave a non-committal shrug of her own, and she turned into the lot.

Chapter 2: This Could Be Heaven or This Could Be Hell[]

The trio walked into the empty lobby with their travel bags in hand. It was rather bland, with a red checkered carpet and a green and brown patterned wallpaper. A few beige chairs sat in a corner around a standing lamp that gave off a cold yellow light. As Pete strolled up to the reception desk, Myka tossed her bag onto one of the plush seats and looked around. While there was artwork on the walls, the whole room gave off a sterile feel that she found uncomfortable. She turned to Bri as Pete dinged a small silver bell on the counter top, glancing around for any employees.

"I don't know about this place anymore, it's giving me some weird vibes..." she said, staring down a long hallway lined with identical brown doors.

"I know what you mean." replied Bri, her fingers massaging a circle on temple. "Not any bad feelings, just something...weird. Like when I first walked into the Warehouse."

"So far the only weird feeling I'm getting is from some second-hand smoke." said Pete, nodding towards a burning cigarette lying in an ashtray on the desk. "There's got to be someone here, they wouldn't leave that burning on its own for long. Fire hazard."

"Quite right, sir. Apologies for the wait." a voice from behind the desk said suddenly, causing all three agents to jump slightly. "Will you be checking in?"

Pete turned to face the man that had seemingly materialized in front of him without him noticing, still slightly startled. "Sorry, I...uh...didn't notice you come back. Room for three, if you can."

The man smiled politely but shook his head. "Terribly sorry, our only rooms available are a single and a double. One down here and one upstairs. Can I interest you in those?"

Pete was silent for a moment, his attention suddenly fixated on the concierge. Myka stepped up to answer him.

"That will be fine, thank you." she said, and the man smiled again. He turned and took two keys off the full rack.

"Yours is 101, at the end of the hall here," he said to Myka as he passed her a key, gesturing to the hall Myka had been staring down. "And yours is upstairs, room 213." he said, giving the other to Bri. "Please enjoy your stay, and try not to disturb the other guests. Checkout is before 8 tomorrow." With that he gave a small nod and exited the room through the "Staff Only" door behind him.

"You ok, Pete?" asked Myka, staring concernedly at her partner as his eyes seemed to bored holes in the door.

"Yeah, I'm just getting some weird vibes now, too. Not bad, just...weird." He turned to Bri, who seemed slightly unfocused. "You going to be ok upstairs on your own? You look a little unsteady."

She nodded. "Just tired, I think. I'll keep my Farnsworth on me in case anything happens. This place isn't that big anyway, I'm sure you'd hear me shout."

Pete nodded. "Sleep well then. And maybe keep that artifact close in case it goes off again tonight." With that, he and Myka set off down the hall.

Bri watched them for a few seconds, her head feeling like it was filled with static. She gave herself a sharp shake, then marched toward he door marked "Stairs".

Chapter 3: There Were Voices Down the Corridor, Thought I Heard Them Say[]

Myka rolled over in the bed of their tiny room. Besides the addition of the bed and a small nightstand the decor was identical to the lobby, right down to the pale sconce lights on the wall.

"You can't sleep either, huh?" said Pete, lying next to her with his eyes open.

Myka gave a low frustrated groan and pulled herself up, turning on the lamp on the nightstand. "I don't know why." she said, rubbing her eyes. "I'm so tired, but there's some feeling I can't shake that's just keeping me up."

"Yeah, me too." he replied, shuffling himself upright. "That vibe just hasn't stopped, but I can't put my finger on what it's about. Besides that fire hazard in the lobby I mean. I'm gonna have words with the owners when we get home."

Myka flopped back onto her pillow. "I think..." she said, "When we were in the lobby something didn't sit right with me. Everything looked so...nice."

"Too nice for a roadside motel, you mean?" Pete asked.

"No. Well...yes, but I mean in a sort of Ikea showroom sort of way."

"Like...staged?" he replied.

"Mmhmm. Too neat. Too perfect. Especially for a place that looks like its been around since the 70s. The chairs looked fluffy. And the carpet was in perfect condition. No peeling wallpaper. No smoke grime on the lampshades."

"Huh. I didn't even look at that stuff. I didn't start getting a weird feeling until that guy appeared behind the counter. I looked away for a second and he was just...there..." Pete's voice trailed off as his eyes narrowed.

"What's up?" Myka rolled over to face him. "Did you figure out what was bothering you?"

"Yeah, maybe..." he replied. "Hey can you remind me what that guy looked like?

"I guess." Myka lifter herself back up into a sitting position and put on her 'thinking face'. "Black suit, fancy but not notably so. The accent was sort of Boston-y."

"Right, and his face?"

Myka thought for a little longer, then her face shifted to confusion. "I...don't remember what his face looked like. Nothing!" She looked over at Pete in concern. "Pete, what does that mean? I noticed how bright the carpet was but not the face of the guy I spoke to a half hour ago?"

Pete's face steeled. "I knew it. That's what was bothering me. I couldn't hold the idea in my mind for some reason, but I have no idea what that guy looked like. When I try and remember his face I just get a blur."

"No chance we were just too tired to notice?" Myka ventured.

"Myka Bering, the Human Camera, can recall an entire motel lobby but not the only other human in it? Not likely. My vibes started buzzing as soon as he appeared. He's got to be using an artifact.

Bri sat on her bed with her head in her hands. The static in her head was growing louder with every minute until it became a waterfall of noise in her skull. Every time she looked up she found her gaze drifting to the knapsack that held a few clothes, her Sabine and the artifact they'd retrieved. As she'd walked to her room, every door she'd past felt like it was dragging at her, adding more weight to her already tired body until she'd flung herself through the door to her own room and collapsed onto the bed.

There was a ringing behind those doors, a familiar sound but amplified to an insane degree. It was the feeling she got when an artifact activated, a tugging sensation that drew her attention to whatever culprit was begging to be noticed. If there was this much noise from every direction, there was only one explanation. This motel was full of artifacts and they were demanding to be heard.

Chapter 4: Some Nights to Remember, Some Nights to Forget[]

"I think we need to have a word with him." said Pete, struggling to pull his pants back on. "Any dude using an artifact to hide his face is shifty enough to investigate in my book."

"I hope Bri's O.K." said Myka, tying her hair back. "She didn't look great and this situation has me feeling uneasy about her room being so far away."

"Yeah. Weird that the only single left was at the other end of the motel. I mean, who else is even staying here? There wasn't a single car in outside." he turned to Myka, who had a look of dread on her face.

"Pete..." she said slowly, in a voice she only used when she'd just realized something bad. "When we got our keys, that man said they were fully booked, right?"

Pete's expression shifted to concern as he tried to recall the bellhop's words. "Apart from the single and the double, yeah. Why? What did you remember?"

"If every room is booked out, why was the key rack still full?"

Bri almost didn't notice her Farnsworth buzzing among the cacophony around her. She'd curled into a fetal position on the bed, her head tucked into her knees as her senses were continuously assaulted. Barely opening an eye, she flipped it open to see Pete and Myka's concerned faces looking back at her.

"Bri, are you O.K.?" Myka asked in a panicked voice.

"My head..." Bri managed to weakly croak out. "Can't you hear all the noise?"

"What? No. What noise? We're coming to get you!" Myka blurted out in a rush. "Come down to the lobby if you can, something is seriously off about that employee."

"Something...is trying to get...in my head..." Bri managed to get out weakly, before she finally lost consciousness and the Farnsworth collapsed onto the bed sheet.

"Bri!" Pete shouted into the device. "Bri, ARE YOU O.K.?"

"Crap, we need to get to her room NOW!" Pete said, his voice spiking with adrenaline. He flung the door to their room open and sprinted into the hallway, Myka following close behind. She nearly collided with him as he'd frozen in place, staring straight ahead at the green patterned wall that had just earlier lead to the check-in desk.

"What? How?" he muttered to himself. "We definitely came from that way, I know it."

"Pete..." said Myka, tugging on his sleeve. "We were at the end of the hall, right?"

He turned around to where the wall had been when they came in, at the end of the hall as the bellhop had said. Instead, the hallway had somehow stretched on in that direction. Passing far beyond the possible limits of the outside walls, the hallway seemed to go on for miles. Identical doors and lights lined each side, with the occasional chair or side table that matched the decor in the lobby placed at random intervals. At some points where doors should be the hallway seemed to turn in another direction.

Pete cautiously approached an intersection and peered around the corner, revealing an identical hallway cascading into the distance. "Well crap." he said bluntly.

Chapter 5: So I Called Up the Captain[]

"008, 008, 008!" Pete blitzed down the seemingly endless hallway with Myka close behind. "Every single door has the same number. 008. Do you think its a clue about the artifact?"

"I don't know, Pete. Maybe? Maybe we should be looking out for anything out of place. This could be a hallucination, like that Medusa face from Warehouse 2."

Pete turned and clapped his hands together with enthusiasm. "Yes, big-brain Mykes!" He spun back around and slowly scanned his eyes across the multitude of identical doors. "Different...different..."

"Pete, over there!" Myka said suddenly, pointing at a door about five down. Unlike the others around it the number plate was affixed to the wall above the door, and it had a more industrial aesthetic. It appeared to be a piece of etched sheet metal, a plaque rather than the decorative polished numbers that were screwed to the other doors. They approached it cautiously, Pete tilting his head back to properly read the plate.

"TOL-007: '79 - Martins; Swan" Pete read aloud. "I think that qualifies as different." He put a hand on the door knob and, with an affirming glance at Myka, turned and pushed it open.

The room looked almost identical to their own, one bed with a few token pieces of furniture arranged conservatively. The large plastic swan boat perched squarely on the mattress was a considerable difference, however. Pete recoiled with a startled shout as he suddenly found himself face-to-face with it, the extra height from the bed making its fiberglass head level with his own.

"I guess that's what the "Swan" meant." he said with a nervous edge.

"Then I guess that must be Martins." replied Myka, gesturing to the desiccated remains of a very dead individual sitting on one of the chairs in the corner.

"Eugh," Pete exclaimed, his lip curling in disgust. "This went from Shining to Psycho real quick."

"Oh my god, Pete," Myka said, staring closer at the mummified corpse. "Pete, look at his belt!"

Pete looked down at the thick leather belt that hung loosely over the skeletal waist. Poking out of holster was an uncomfortably familiar black handle and glass battery. "Is that a Tesla?" He asked in disbelief. "Mykes, this guy must have been with the Warehouse!"

Myka slapped a palm against her forehead. "I knew there was something familiar about that plaque above the door, Pete. The format's a bit weird, but that's kind of tags we use for artifacts in the Ovoid. Number, date of collection, agent name, item description. Which would mean..."

They turned to look at the swan boat. It slowly tilted forwards, exposing the hollow center with a seat big enough for two. "Run now!" Pete shouted, dashing back into the hallway. Myka slammed the door shut just in time as a thundering crash shook the floor. They braced themselves against a wall as the motel trembled around them before gradually coming to a quiet stop.

"A dead agent and an artifact in a messed up motel," said Pete. "I think it's time to call Artie."

Chapter 6: We Haven't Had That Spirit Here Since 1969[]

"I know you know what time it is," said Artie, his eyes bleary behind his glasses. "This had better be-

"Sorry Artie, but we have a major situation here," Pete interrupted. "This motel has an artifacts, or artifacts, Bri's been separated and we cant contact her and we found a dead Warehouse agent in one of the rooms with a very aggressive swan."

Artie paused for a second, the deluge if information slowly ticking into his freshly awoken brain.

"Three hours," he said exasperatedly. "I leave you alone for three hours and you find some new deathtrap to stumble into. Alright, I'm going to need as much detail as you've got." He shuffled down the stairs of his bedroom and into his office as the pair hastily tried to explain their situation.

"Bad vibes...and a weird guy at the desk...no vacancy...she said there was a 'noise'...endless hallways...exploding swan..."

"Alright," he said, dropping into his chair, "So in brief you're trapped in some kind of recursive motel, Bri is M.I.A., the only other person you've met is likely using or affected by an artifact and at least one other room has a dead Warehouse agent and another dangerous artifact inside?"

Pete and Myka glanced at each other. "Yeah, that's pretty much it," Pete said.

Artie tapped away at his computer. "This tag above the door, is there a name on it?"

"Martins," replied Myka. "It said '79, Martins, Swan."

"Alright, according to the old files we did have an Agent Martins in the late 60s. Went missing in 1971 while transporting an artifact from California. One large "Tunnel of Love" boat in the shape of a swan."

"Oooh," said Pete, "'TOL' on the plaque. 'Tunnel of Love'."

Myka nodded. "That makes sense, but what about the '007' bit?"

"Maybe he was a British spy?" said Pete.

"I think I might have an answer to that, too," said Artie. "Between 1969 and '79 there were seven incidents in the country involving missing agents and artifacts. Same thing with all of them, an agent on a solo retrieval, calls in to confirm they have the artifact then disappears en route. After Martins, the partner policy became a hard rule, no retrieval could be done by less then two agents."

"Wait Artie," said Myka, "Are you implying there might be six other artifacts somewhere around here?"

"Could be," he said, "Assuming the motel, or whoever's running it, is responsible for the disappearances. There's some good news though."

"Oh, do tell," said Pete, 'We could use anything right now."

Artie raised a bushy eyebrow at his quip. "Martins was mummified in his chair, you said?"

"Just like Mrs. Bates." Pete replied.

"That means he probably died of dehydration, not any kind of injury. It's possible this motel is more concerned about keeping things in that actually harming them, or it would've tried to throw something at you two already. Have a look in some of the other rooms, I'm going to see what else I can find about the missing agents."

Chapter 7: In the Master's Chamber, Gathered for the Feast[]

"Another one, Artie. QTV-004: '71 - Hollis; Television." Pete recited off the plaque above another door. He slowly opened it, revealing another identical single-suite bedroom. The remains of a Warehouse agent lay on the bed, Tesla and badge neatly placed on the nightstand. Floating in the middle of the room was an old boxy television, rotating slowly as it hung untethered in the air.

"Agent Hollis, reported missing in 1972 on the way home after collecting a Quatrocolor TV with the power of levitation." Artie said. "Last reported contact had her checking into a roadside motel for the night, just like the others."

Pete closed the door gently. "So this is number 4, that room full of mannequins was number 5, the lawn flamingo was 6. Seems like we're going backwards."

Artie nodded. "All of them listing the name of the agent, the year they went missing and the artifact they were carrying."

"And all of the agents dead from starvation or dehydration." interjected Myka. "No violent deaths."

"If we follow that pattern back," said Artie, typing at his computer, "The next missing agent would be Bueller. Lost in 1970 transporting a surfboard. Then Northmoor in '68 with a heavy duty safe coming back from Virginia. Cranston, also in '68 with an unusual chair in the shape of a hand. He was coming from California. The first missing agent fitting the M.O. is... oh." Artie trailed off as he peered at his screen. Pete and Myka both leaned into the frame to see. "It seems the first was in 1961. Agent Haddir, transporting a floppy disk containing Soviet launch codes. It's one of the Warehouse's major cold cases."

"That's the peak of the Cold War." said Pete. "I thought the Warehouse didn't concern itself in global politics."

"It doesn't," replied Artie, "Unless there's an artifact involved. Apparently this disk absorbed some of the energy surrounding the missile crisis and gained the power to physically launch things itself. Haddir was one of our undercovers in Russia and managed to collect it before the knowledge of artifacts could be passed onto the Soviet heads. I'm sure they already knew, of course. Most leaders do when it comes to war. But it was largely agreed by the Regents that allowing them to keep a known artifact would only exacerbate things.

"Haddir made it back to America with the disk, but his reports made it seem as though he suspected he was being followed. His last contact was from Oregon, and the notes say he was acting strangely. He said, quote: "I'm finally somewhere safe, they won't find me here. I don't know how I made it, but no-one will get me or the artifact until you send someone to collect us.""

"Oh, I think I get what's going on now." said Myka. Artie gave a "mhmm" of agreement.

Pete looked from one to the other. "Care to share, then? Because I'm still lost. Did the KGB get him?"

"I think," said Myka, "that this whole motel was created by Haddir to be a safe place for artifacts. The plaques over the doors are the same format we use in the Warehouse, so only someone with that kind of knowledge could have made them. And all the missing agents, I think they stopped here because they needed a safe place to stay, just like we did."

"But the agents are all dead." Pete pointed out. "And how could someone, Warehouse or not, make an entire motel on the road? A motel that's snatching agents from all over the country, might I add."

"That's easy enough to answer." said Artie. "The entire motel is an artifact. One that Haddir accidentally created on the run to preserve the artifacts until an agent came to collect them. It must move whenever a Warehouse agent needs a place to stop and rest, but it's tailored to keep the artifacts secure, not the agents. I'd wager the missing agents checked in with their cargo, went to sleep for the night and then just couldn't leave until someone came to get them."

"But we were able to leave our room." said Pete.

"Because we don't have an artifact on us." said Myka. "Bri does, and she didn't sound like she was in a position to move."

"And since no-one in the Warehouse knew about the motel, and no-one there could leave..." Artie said.

"No-one ever came to retrieve them." Pete concluded. "Until we came along."

"Exactly!" Artie exclaimed. "You two are going to close the book on over half a dozen Warehouse cold cases. You just need to find Haddir, or what's left of him, and neutralize whatever artifact is keeping the construct up. Once you're free I think we can persuade the Regents to spare a bit of coin for a mass retrieval."

Chapter 8: Last Thing I Remember, I Was Running For The Door[]

The duo kept running down hallway after mile of hallway, each door still emblazoned with "008".

"I think 008 must mean Bri." said Myka. "It follows the theme."

"Probably right," replied Pete, as they stopped outside a door marked HSC-002: '68 - Cranston; Chair. He opened it to see a room significantly more disheveled than the last. The furniture was, as with the other rooms, beige and tacky, but they were strewn all over as if a hurricane had gone through. In the middle, undisturbed yet oddly disturbing, was a fiberglass chair the the shape of a cupped hand. The palm formed the seat while the fingers made up the back and sides.

As they watched, the fingers suddenly began to move in jarring sudden spasms. As the jerky movements intensified, the contents of the room began to rise to the ceiling and spiral around as if caught in a twister. The corpse of what was presumably agent Cranston was lifted into the air from underneath the bed and slammed unceremoniously into several walls. Just as suddenly as it began, the chair stopped movement and everything crashed to the floor.

Pete closed the door with a disturbed look on his face. "Poor guy's been going around like that for fifty years." he said. "It feels so undignified."

"Once we get them out, I'm sure the Regents will give them all proper ceremonies." Myka assured him, a hand on his shoulder. "We need to keep going. Hopefully we can find Haddir or Bri next.

"Hold up, Pete!" Myka slumped against a wall, panting with exhaustion. "We've been going for hours now and we haven't seen a single new door. I think we should stop for a bit."

"We can't stop!" Pete protested. "What if Bri is just up ahead? We need to keep going!"

Myka shook her head. "This place is a labyrinth, and it's designed to keep artifacts safe. If we were going to find Bri, wouldn't it have been before the first door. The others have all been in order, so she should have been 008."

Pete scowled at the rows of doors surrounding them. "Every door is 008," he growled, "And none of the damn things will open!". He slammed his shoulder against one for emphasis, the panels not even shaking in response.

"That's why I've been thinking," said Myka, sliding down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, "If the artifact was created by Haddir because he thought someone was after him, and we came in with Bri, maybe the artifact thinks we're after her artifact and is deliberately trying to keep us apart. It would explain why it put us at opposite ends of the motel."

"But we're not. We're agents, too." Myka gave him a slow encouraging nod. "Buuuuuutt...the artifact doesn't know we're agents." he concluded, smiling. "You think if we let the artifact know we're from the Warehouse, it'll let us through?"

"Worth a try." she replied, pulling herself back up. She pulled her Tesla and badge from her pocket and held them over her head. "AGENT HADDIR!" she shouted down the endless hall. "My name is agent Myka Bering, this is agent Pete Lattimer. We're from Warehouse 13, here to collect your cargo!"

There was a tense moment of silence, then a slow creak. The same door Pete had fruitlessly tried to force open now swung slowly inwards. With a quick glance at each other, Myka re-holstered her weapon and the pair walked through. They were back at reception, at the same desk with its gently smoking ashtray and rack full of keys. Looking out through the obscured glass doors showed only pitch darkness.

Pete hesitantly approached the desk and gingerly dinged the bell. "That thing is still giving me some weird vibes." he said, gesturing again to the smouldering cigarette.

"And again I apologize." said a voice, causing them both to start.

Myka had her Tesla out and trained on the man in a split second. She found she still couldn't make out the details of his face, as if her eyes just ricocheted off every time she tried to focus her attention on any part of it. "We're agents with the Warehouse." she declared with tone of authority. "We've come to retrieve the artifacts and agents you've kept here."

If the man was bothered by having a weapon pointed at him, his body language didn't show it. Wordlessly he turned around to the key rack and took one off, passing it to Pete. "You are 53 years late for check-in, you know?" the man said testily. Then he rung the reception bell and vanished instantly, dissipating like smoke.

Myka slowly lowered her Tesla and looked at Pete, who was examining the key. "Room 001, Employees Only." he read from the plastic tag. They both looked up to the door behind the desk. Pete moved around and inserted the key. The door unlocked with a light click and he pushed it open. The room inside stank of cigarette smoke, and Pete coughed violently as half a decade of it poured out. It was otherwise empty apart from another dried corpse sitting propped up against the wall.

As Pete blinked away the tears from his stinging eyes he could see the familiar silvery standard-issue artifact neutralizing bag lying next to the body and, scattered across the floor, dozens of stale hand-rolled cigarette butts. Myka came in behind him, arm over her lower face to block out some of the acrid smell. She reached down and grabbed the bag, then they both quickly vacated the room.

"I'm guessing that was agent Haddir." Pete said. "Gives my Auntie Jude a run for her money with the smoking."

"We retrieved his artifact." said Myka. "Maybe we can reach Bri now that the motel knows we're not a threat."

Pete nodded and searched the key rack until he found one labelled "Housekeeping". "Master key, you think?" he asked.

Myka nodded. "Worth a shot. She was in room 213, upstairs!"

Chapter 9: You Can Check Out Any Time You Like[]

"Looks like the place has gone back to normal." said Pete as they made it upstairs. "For whatever "normal" was for this place, anyway. At least the numbers are in order now."

They passed 209, 210, 211, 212, before stopping at room 213. Pete inserted the key into the lock. It fit perfectly and he gave a small sigh of relief. He turned it, a small click signalling the door was now open. Without hesitation he flung it open, both he and Myka bursting into the room. Curled up on the bed, seemingly unconscious, was Bri. Pete gave her shoulder a shake, but she gave no response.

Myka picked Bri's bag up off the floor. "Just carry her, Pete. Once we're out we can worry about the rest."

He nodded and heaved her into his arms.

Once back downstairs he gently put her down on one of the chairs. Myka riffled though Bri's knapsack until she found the artifact, which she removed. "Artifact still secure. How is she?" she asked.

Pete looked at her with concern. "Out cold. I think it might have just been too much for her, being here."

"Oh, her artifact sense, you mean?"

Pete nodded. "She can tell when an artifact is active. Being surrounded by a giant artifact filled with more artifacts, it must have been overwhelming for her."

"But we deactivated the motel, right?" Myka said. "She should able to wake up soon."

Pete looked out through the frosted glass window at the apparent void beyond. "I'm not sure we did, Mykes." he said. "I think we got it to lower its guard a bit, but that vibe is still bugging me." He walked over to the front doors and tried to swing them open, but they simply rattled under his force.

Myka's brow furrowed. "I don't get it. We retrieved the artifact. It should let us out. Unless..."

Pete slumped, his forehead pressed against the glass. "The motel is still protecting artifacts and agents. I don't think it will let us out unless we gather up all of them before we leave."

"Or," said Myka, "Unless we find whatever artifact controlling the motel and bag it."

"I mean, the place is a lot smaller now," said Pete, moving over to collapse in a chair, "but there's still a lot of potential artifact objects here. It could be literally anything in any of the rooms."

"Let's at least report to Artie, tell him we have the artifact and Bri." said Myka, pulling out her Farnsworth and flipping it open.

"How's progress?" came Artie's voice from the device before any of them could speak.

"Bri's safe, and we retrieved agent Haddir's artifact." Myka said, tilting the camera so he could see her curled on the seat. "She's still unconscious, we think being surrounded by such a potent artifact must have taken a toll on her senses."

"Seems likely." agreed Artie. "We'll have Vanessa have a look at her when you get back. The Regents agreed to send out a convoy to pick you up. What's your location?"

Myka tightened her lips. "There's a small problem there Artie." she said. "The motel artifact is still active, and we don't think it'll let us leave unless we take all the missing agents and artifacts with us. Some of them are still kicking, so that might be out of the question at the moment."

Pete pushed his way into camera view. "Our other idea was to find and neutralize whatever artifact was keeping the motel running, but we don't know where to start looking."

"Right, that does seem like a problem," Artie conceded. "Agent Haddir's reports didn't mention how he made the motel, only that he didn't know how it happened. Did you notice anything unusual around his body? Something out of place?"

"Besides about three packs worth of hand-rolled butts and half a century of second-hand smoke?" replied Pete.

Artie gave a disapproving grunt. "Different times, a pack a day was considered "light". He must have gone through the lot when he realized he couldn't leave."

"Weird that the ashtray was so clean, then." said Pete, looking over at the desk. "Looks like he didn't even touch it."

"Except for the one the bellhop left there." said Pete. "Seems like he wasn't even a real person, though. Just vanished like smoke when he gave me the key."

Myka jolted up. "If he was a construct of the artifact then why or how would he smoke?" she asked rapidly.

Pete's eyes widened in sudden understanding. "I started getting weird vibes as soon as I noticed the ashtray!" he said, lifting himself out of the chair. He dashed to the reception desk where the same cigarette still burned away in the unusually pristine porcelain. He picked up the cigarette and twisted the burning stub into the tray until it stopped glowing.

There was a sudden jolt as the entire building shook, the spent stick crumbling entirely to ash. An intense wind spiraled around the lobby, seemingly drawing into the ashtray. Pete ducked back towards Myka as she threw herself over Bri, bracing them both against the chair. Pete could feel an intense pressure, as if the space around him was growing smaller and smaller until everything went calm, just as suddenly as it had begun.

He looked around him to see the previously tacky but pristine motel now crumbled under half a century of neglect. The wallpaper was peeling, the carpet stained. The void beyond the window now shone with daylight, though the glass was long gone. He looked over to the stained and water-damaged remains of the desk and saw the ashtray, its glaze still glimmering in the sun, lying innocently on the floor. Myka handed him a silver static bag from Bri's pack and he scooped it in with a single movement. Along with the normal volley of sparks came a small puff of stale smoke.

Less than an hour later the trucks arrived. The trio waited outside for them, neither wanted to remain in the motel and there was much more room for Bri to rest in the car. In any of the cars, actually, as seven more had manifested outside once the motel had freed them. "The cars of the missing agents." Myka had ventured a guess.

They were greeted by Tyler and Mr. Kosan, head of the regents, emerging from a large black limousine. A medic was pointed over to the car Bri rested in as at least a dozen workers began to inspect the ruins of the motel.

"Well done, both of you!" he declared with a smile. "These missing agents have been a black spot on the Warehouse's history for decades and not only did you locate them, you prevented any future agents from succumbing to the artifact's power." He gestured to the agent beside him. "Mr. Lepido has agreed to help us manage the artifacts and transport them back to the Warehouse, but the rest of you, I fell, deserve some proper rest." He ushered them towards the limo, where they finally allowed themselves to relax.

Chapter 10: A Two Minute Guitar Solo[]

"I can't believe," said Pete, his pen scratching dully against his paper, "After we go through all that crap we still need to do the paperwork ourselves. For all 9 artifacts, too!"

"We were technically the retrieving agents." Myka replied, dutifully focused on her own report. "Don't forget the "Deceased Agent Recovery" and Overtime request forms need to be filed separately."

"UUUUUGH!" Pete groaned dramatically, burying his head in his arms.

"So what's the deal with it, then?" Artie asked, as he the four H.A.R.P. agents stared down at the ashtray.

"Clearly activated by a sense of true desperation." Nikki said. "It wants to protect at all cost."

"Created by agent Jhamil Haddir, unintentionally, to protect him and the artifact he was transporting from the Soviets chasing him." Tyler continued.

Matt squinted at the artifact, running a finger along the rim. "It constructs an infinite recursive space designed to keep everything in secure, though not necessarily alive. The specifics seem to be up to the whim of the one who activates it, and it makes a sort of simulated construct to interact with its guests as the user would."

"It didn't hurt me on purpose, I get that." said Bri, her arms crossed over her chest. "But I still think it's too risky to try using. What if it ended up lost again for another fifty years?"

Artie nodded. "I'm with you on that. I'll send the report through to the Regents. You three have some work to do."

Aw, come on Artie." moaned Tyler. "I had to move those artifacts onto the trucks in the first place, and some of them did not go quietly. Can't I have some time off from dealing with them?"

Artie stared at him with a raised eyebrow, while Nikki and Matt looked back and forth between the two, waiting to see if they could negotiate a break as well.

"Bri's been through hell already, she gets to rest. You, on the other hand, had a very relaxing drive back from Oklahoma. You should be feeling plenty rested. Now chop chop!" The agents collectively groaned as Artie shooed them towards the Ovoid Quarantine. "You can head home" he said to Bri as the others shuffled away. "I need to take this to Sandy for proper shelving."

He slipped the ashtray back into its bag and lumbered over to his segway.