Renaissance

Tom never expected to pay off his Inherited debt from a gambler father. Kept alive by his mother cleaning the hotels, he was resigned to his fate as a slave to The Family, destined to be a dealer or brush to try and keep the interest on their loan from swallowing them. That all changed when he found the bag and the book.

He had been sweeping the slot machine rows when he spotted it. A lost handbag was nothing special, distracted gamblers and their dates forgot their luggage all the time. But as he scooped up the bag it felt odd. Curiosity won over decorum and he opened the bag, blanching at the contents. 40 banded stacks of $20 dollar bills were arranged neatly in the bag, jumbled only slightly by his careless scoop. One stack was odd however, banded to the bills was a small black book.

Discreetly he walked to a quiet part of his section pulling the book from the bag and thumbing it open to the first page. He was looking for an address, a name, or phone number to return the bag to its owner, a chilling discovery greeted him instead.

"Hello, congratulations on finding my gift"

The neatly written note on the page began.

"The next pages detail my latest piece of art, along with where it may be found, the money in this bag has no obligation to it, but it would flatter me for you to go see my work. You'll not find me there, nor do I think I will see you. I am a bit of a recluse and a busy person already working on my next piece. I hope my work inspires a reaction within you"

Signed Renaissance, the note concluded leaving him confused until he turned the page and was confronted with a horrifying sight.

A photograph had been taped to the next page, at first it was unclear what the subject of the photo was, but as his eyes adjusted to the colors his blood ran cold. A man's body was featured in the photo, laid in a bed the corpse's limbs were flayed, the skin carved into grotesque petals with the bones of his fingers warped and bent into obscene insectile forms. The head was similarly mutilated, skin flayed and carved unto floral shape, skull stripped of meat entirely save for the eyes, staring into nothing. Delicate paints decorated the skull with butterfly shapes around the dead orbs.

Shaking in barely contained disgust, he trembled and began to walk, taking the book to burn. The address was burned into his mind, he could tell the police but it would mean losing out on his chance to pay off his debts. He would let it lie, let the police find the body. He would just try to forget the horror etched into his mind. He would hope he wasn't next.

As Tom rushed to his room, he felt watched, looking over his shoulder. He feared that the twisted artist would be looking at him for a new canvas. As he closed himself up in his room he set the bag on the cheap table in his kitchenette.

Picking up the phone attached to the wall he dialed his mother's room only for the tone to ring endlessly before he hung up. Picking the phone up once more he dialed his mother's supervisor asking if she was staying late.

"Haven't heard from her since she went up to clean a room on floor seven, let ya know when she's back, must have been a mess."

The flippant supervisor said before hanging up, earning a curse from Tom.

He waited for hours, pacing his room, waiting for something, anything to happen. He feared that The Family staff would beat down his door for the bag of money. If not The Family he feared that the Psycho that mutilated bodies for "artistry" would come for him next.

He hid the money in a tiny footlocker he had, trying to cover himself, The Book sat beside his stove, waiting to be burned. His thoughts on covering his tracks were broken by a gentle knock on his door, along with a deep rumbling voice.

"Tom, you got a second, Jameson wants to talk to ya" Bob announced, one of the security guards for the hotel attached to the casino.

"Yeah, sure," Tom kept his voice calm as much as he could, hiding the last bit of cash before he opened the door, looking at the bulky man filling the hallway.

"You look like shit, you sick or something?" Bob asked as he led Tom along, taking him to the security office.

"Nah, just tired, haven't slept well" he half lied as they approached the door, watching Bob twist the knob to open the door up.

Jameson's back greeted them as he faced a security monitor, a high-definition video of the hotel hallways.

"Have a seat, Tom, got something to discuss with you" he told Tom, a neutral tone in his voice.

Tom's heart sunk to his stomach as he approached a seat at the security desk easing himself down into the chair. Jameson turned to face Tom, body blocking the monitor.

"We got a problem" The casino enforcer claimed.

Tom kept his fear from his face for a brief moment as he asked "What kind of problem Mr. Jameson?"

Tom's voice cracked with the words but Jameson didn't seem to notice as he shifted to show the monitor to Tom.

"We're looking for him, but I gotta ask if you know this man," on the screen was a tall man in a coat and hat, only half his face on display a crooked smile plastered on his lips as his eyes were shaded by the brim of the hat. Toms mother Angela was talking to him, looking uncomfortable.

"Angela hasn't been seen in a few hours, most we can tell this was the last person who saw her. The room they are outside was for a Mister Fenix, most likely a fake name paid for with a stolen card. The rooms empty, with no leads so far. You think you recognize him?" Jameson asked a touch of genuine concern in his voice.

"No...no I haven't seen him before" Tom answered honestly, but it wasn't the truth, Tom knew deep in his bones who that man was.

After all, $20,000 dollars of his money was tucked away in Tom's room right now.