Vegas reminds me of Ethan Mitchell. Not sure why. But when I was looking out the window of my room, all I could think about was Ethan being back in the US and plotting…
Ethan’s 26th floor window gave him a sweeping view of the Vegas skyline. It was dark outside, but the lights from the strip made the town look like the theme park it was. He closed the curtains and left the room. The hallway was empty, only a discarded room service tray laid next to the wall, a couple of doors down. He took the maid’s key card he’d stolen the day before and walked to room 2631.
Pausing before he opened the door, he sniffed the air. Nothing… yet. But the story inside the room was different. The man, face down on the queen size bed, had started to decompose. Without a second look to the body, Ethan pulled out the suitcase he had left in the closet, opened it, inspected the contents and zipped it shut. He then fingered the burner cell in his pant’s pocket. He smiled, a crooked tilt of his lips that only his mother would have recognized as a smirk.
He left the suitcase behind and exited the room. The hallway was still empty and he headed for the stairs. Right before reaching the fire exit, a small woman with a cap pulled over her hair almost bumped into him, dropping the ice bucket between them. As soon as she looked down, he swivelled around her and disappeared into the stairwell.
Ethan descended several flights before he pulled out the phone to make the call. He’d only gone down a few floors before he felt the vibrations from the explosion.