I've been mulling this idea over for a while now. I work in a hotel, and it always reminds me of checking in and out, and the endless amounts of people all going in different directions. I don't know, I get pretty deep when I'm venturing the hallways, haha, and came up with this idea! This story will be a little different, but I like to think you guys will like it. So let's get started, shall we?

Disclaimer: Walk up in the club like, "What up? I don't own this."

The Faceless Doctor, and The Bandaged Mayor

You aren't entirely sure where it starts. But then again, in a situation like this, you suppose no one would be.

You open your eyes to find yourself greeted by a very bright light, blinding you for a few moments as you blink furiously to try and regain your vision. The light appears to be coming from a large chandelier in the center of an expensive-looking hotel lobby. It's made of crystal, and the yellow glow is dancing around the entire room, bouncing off of everything and illuminating your path. Are you supposed to stay here? Are you waiting for someone?

You take a few tentative steps forward. The carpet below your feet is a crimson red, and your shoes sink in the fibers as you walk. Everything here appears to be extremely high class, and you try to think of a reason you would be here. But then again, who are you? You're terribly confused by all of this, but can't shake the feeling that someone is supposed to greet you. So you wait.

"How are you?" A voice asks behind you. You turn, and are immediately greeted by a large desk that you're more than certain wasn't there before. Behind it is a faceless man with a green suit, a large pen in his hand rested on a book with more pages than you could possibly imagine. His skin is white and chalky, and even with the absence of eyes, you can't shake the feeling he's staring right through you. Hesitantly, you open your mouth.

"U-Uh, I…have no clue how I am…"

"Do you remember who you are?"

"No. Am I supposed to?"

"Some people do, but an equal amount does not. I suppose you could say that either answer to the question would be accurate. Neither would have surprised me, and neither would have made your circumstances any different."

You blink owlishly at him, suddenly feeling more lost than ever. He's faceless, but you just know he's smiling. It's not the sick smile of a demented man getting off on your terror and uncertainty, no. It's the smile of someone willing to help you, the smile of someone who is patient, and most importantly, the smile of a man who has done this before. You suddenly find yourself surrounded by people, and the lobby seems brighter than before. Your words begin to come easier.

"Where am I?"

"Why, you're here with me," he says. "And we'll be here for a bit longer, I'm afraid. We're still waiting for the pull."

"What pull?" you ask.

"The kind that will bring you all the way here, my friend. I'm afraid you're lingering between both worlds right now, but once you're all the way here, we can get started."

"When…that happens, will I remember who I am?"

"Not likely, but who am I to say? As long as your information is in the other realm, I'm just as lost as you." His hands are flipping through the infinite pages, and you're certain there are even more of them than there were before. "We'll both know your name soon enough."

Your eyes wander around the sudden crowd. For a hotel, you can't understand why none of them seem to have luggage. Many of them appear just as lost as you, but some of them are navigating with precision and ease. You turn back to the faceless man, eyes finally adjusted enough to make out the fine print on his nametag. His non-existent eyes are on you again.

"Ah, it would appear we finally know each other's names," he smiles, and this time you can see it. His features are slowly carving their way into his face, and you can finally see his widely stretched grin and gentle eyes as they observe you.

"You know my name?" you ask, leaning over the desk to try and look at the page he's settled on. To your surprise, it's blank, but his pointer finger is skimming along the page as though he's following a paragraph.

"Yes. You are finally here for good. Your life in the other world is over."

"Other world?"

"Earth."

"So where are we now?"

"Patience, Johnathan. I need to read all the details here, if you please." The man, who you now know as Doc, continues reading. His eyebrows go up immensely, and then he looks at you again, shaking his head with a small smirk, before he begins writing in the book.

Even when his pen touches the paper, it doesn't leave a mark. You can't see anything on the infinite pages.

"Do you remember anything about yourself, Johnathan?" he asks you.

"I don't think I like being called that name," you frown.

"Oh? What would you prefer?"

"Um, just John, I think. It sounds more…natural?"

"I see," he smiles. Now that you can see his facial features clearly, you can see his eyes are a neon green color that seems to swirl with a large amount of electricity in them. It's almost like a lighting storm inside of him. You immediately wonder where you are again, and who you're with. And you can't help but wonder why none of the other people around you have approached the supposed front desk you find yourself leaning on. As if reading your thoughts, he addresses you again.

"Alright, John, I have everything we need. You'll be on the sixth floor."

"I'm staying here?" you ask.

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"Well, that's up to you," he says.

"I don't have any money," you protest. "I can't pay."

"You won't be needing any, my dear boy," he laughs. "No one here has any money."

To say you're lost would be an understatement. You're completely and utterly confused, and he must see it on your face, because the next time he speaks, his words are gentle and light.

"This is all going to be very confusing for you, I'm afraid." His hand touches your shoulder briefly, and the short time you're connected, you feel like you understand everything. The uncertainty and fear you feel is gone completely. But it's back again as soon as he lets go. "This is just the way it has to be."

"Can I at least know where I am? Who I am? Can't you tell me that much? All I have is a name, and I don't even know who John is!" you say, voice verging on frantic. You don't even notice the little man approaching you quickly until he's at your side, tugging on your arm.

"Relax, John. This is Walter. He'll take you to the room you'll be staying in."

The little man smiles at you, but only half his face is visible. The rest of his body is wrapped in bandages, little red splotches soaking through. You jump back, slightly startled by his appearance, and Doc clears his throat.

"John, please just follow him. Do not be startled by his appearance."

"How am I-"

"Have you seen yourself?"

As if on cue, Walter suddenly has a mirror in his hands, his half smile still visible. You stare at the figure in the mirror, trying desperately to remember what you used to look like, or if it's even you in the reflection. Your hair is black, and sticking up in odd directions like a permanent bedhead. Your eyes are blue, safely behind your glasses with frames that you only just realized were cracked. All over your face is dried blood, and it's matted in your hair as well, but that's not even the disturbing part. There's a series of holes in your chest, all of them still bleeding profusely. There's a puddle at your feet.

"Didn't you wonder why our carpet was so red?" Doc asks pleasantly. "To help yourself better understand, you must realize one key factor. You are not alive anymore. No one here is."

"You mean…I…"

"Yes, you're dead."

You bite your lip, wondering why you can still feel it if you're dead. You wonder why you're still bleeding if you're dead. You wonder why the fuck you can't remember who you were when you were alive, because now you're dead.

You turn to follow Walter with silent resignation, no longer in the mood to argue. He seems cheerful enough, and you can't help but wonder how he died, but then again, you wonder that about yourself. His nametag doesn't say 'Walter' though. You vaguely make out the word 'Mayor'. Maybe he was the mayor of a town when he was alive. Or maybe he just likes to pretend. Either way, you're not asking questions anymore, because you know you won't receive an answer. Maybe you're stubborn, but that's just something else you'll have to learn.

"Don't worry," he tells you quietly. "You'll fit in more with the people on your floor."

"Why is that?" you ask glumly.

"Because they're human, like you."

"A-Are you not?"

He looks up at you, and gestures back to Doc at the front desk, now dealing with another 'guest'.

"I used to be. He never was."

Doc makes eye contact from across the room, and winks at you. You feel your stomach drop as you wonder what he is if he's not human. Walter grabs your hand, and leads you to an elevator, rushing you inside and pressing the large '6'. He pulls out a can of Tab soda.

"If you're dead, why are you drinking that?" you ask, mildly amused. He hurriedly swallows his sip, and offers the can to you.

"You can still do some things you did while you were alive, if you want. You just don't have to. Most of us enjoy the little things that help us feel like we used to though. Doc enjoys candy bars."

You take the can from him, and drink a little sip. You're surprised by how sweet it is as you hand it back to him.

"Feel a little better?" he asks.

"I don't know," you shrug. "I'm still dead, and I still don't know who I am. I guess I feel about as good as anyone could in this situation." He nods, and the elevator stops on the sixth floor with a loud 'ding!'. The hallway is long, and seemingly as infinite as the pages in Doc's book. You can't even see the end of it. Walter leads you to a room far down the hall, and away from the elevator. It reads 634.

"This will be your room," he says happily. "And it appears you're lucky enough to have a roommate!"

"Roommate?" you frown. "Can't my eternal depression begin in peace?"

"Depression? No, John, you mustn't be sad about this! Everyone dies eventually. You're only starting your new life where your other life ends."

"Yeah, well, forgive me for not being chipper at the thought of looking like a walking corpse for the rest of my life." You gesture to your chest. "Am I gonna keep bleeding forever?"

"No, silly. You already stopped. As soon as we got to your floor, you stopped. That's part of the experience," he says, reaching out to turn the knob of the room. You place your hand over his before he can open the door, and he looks up at you, surprise on his face.

"Is it…normal to feel scared?" you ask quietly, unable to keep the moisture away from your eyes. You use your free hand to wipe the tears away. "Sorry, I'm just…completely freaked out, I guess."

"It's normal. Don't worry. Just focus on the task at hand, John."

"And what is that task, exactly?"

"You have to figure out who you are."

"How?"

There's no answer. You look down to where the small man was, but he's not there anymore, only an empty space of red carpet. Your hand is still on the knob to the room. You look down the hallway where the elevator was.

It's gone.

Taking a deep breath, and willing yourself forward, you open the door, thus beginning the rest of your afterlife.

Whooptie fucking doo.

Sachi: Review for love! I'll update as soon as I can, and reviews inspire me to do so more often! ;3