“Remember Snow, no rushing.”

Constable Turbo licked his lips as he pushed the housekeeping cart down the hotel hallway. Fifth floor, full red velvet carpet with yellow and navy blue swirls, walls made of scarlet marble, and each hotel door a rich mahogany with polished gold trims. Turbo adjusted the hotel uniform on his body as he approached a particular room.

Number 501.

Turbo took a minute to pinch his collar and lean his head towards it. “Snow, we good?”

[Yep.] A voice in Turbo’s ear piece responded. [The two guys are still in the Italian restaurant.]

“Eeeexcelleeent. Mweehehehehe.” Turbo huffed a laugh fitting of a movie villain. He adjusted his cart to the side to block the cameras from seeing the Do Not Disturb sign hanging on the knob. With a sleight of hand he plucked out a plastic card from his sleeve, a series of wire strips attached to a small palm-size computer board. All he had to do was slip it into the card reader of the room, the machine in his sleeve dancing with red numbers. While he waited, he spoke back to his mic. “Ah right. Snow, we never gave the two douches a name. What you wanna call them?”

[Uuuuh. Well one of them has a necklace, a crucifix but the arm is broken. Call him Gold Neck. As for his partner, I see he’s got those silver dentals from flapping his gums. Let’s dub him Silver Tooth. Yeah.]

“Oh come on, why not just Kingfish and Makarov?”

[This isn’t a Call of Duty game, Turbo.]

“Huh. Never thought you knew that reference.”

[My grand kid plays the game, religiously. Are you in yet?]

“Yes sir, we are in. Ka-poow!”

Click.

The machine in his sleeve caused the light on the hotel door to blink green with a clunk. Turbo left the cleaning cart outside as he slipped through a gap. He let the door close on its own and he looked around.

The hotel room was spacious, with two double size beds, a large bathroom with shower, and a corner for the patrons to have some coffee on some comfy seats and a table. It was clean, more or less. The only thing that cluttered were a series of black travel bags sitting around.

Turbo snickered and tugged on his gloves. He walked up to one bag, memorized how it looked, and he gently pulled the zipper open.

“...Oooof...This is gonna give Cap more than PTSD.”

A small gap in the bag revealed the muzzles of an AK-47. Wait, there’s more.

Turbo could see a small collection of assault rifles and machine guns. SCARs, FAMAS, P90s, SPAS-12 shotguns, Glocks and Sig Sauer pistols, a bundle of silencers, and multiple chains of fragmentation grenades. Turbo winced when he spotted the word C4 peeking through all the guns and ammunition boxes.

“Yeaaaah. It’s them alright. Youch.”

[What did you find?]

“Your grandson’s religion.” Turbo pulled out his phone and took some pictures. He zipped the bag back up and made sure it looked exactly how it was before touching it; the direction the zipper head laid, the ruffles of the bag, which side was slumped in, everything. He did the same for other bags, wincing, recoiling, or puckering his lips as he found more explosives, weapons, tons of ammunition, and shotgun shells. “Oh man, I pity bank security going up against this. This is SWAT level ‘oh sh–’, you know what I’m sayin’?”

[Oh one second, cap is calling me. Gonna put you on hold.]

“Noooo. Doooon’t.” Turbo rolled his eyes with a flat tone. “I’ll feel lonely. Aaaaaaaah.”

[Your wasting your acting talents as a detective.] Snow chuckled. [Okay, talk to you in a bit.]

“Get me some coffee while you’re at it.” Turbo heard a click in his ear, followed by a soft melody of classical music. He bobbed his head as he finished up taking pictures and setting everything back to normal. The constable looked around, tapping his chin. Then, he wagged a finger at a painting with an ‘ah-ha!’.

It was a hotel portrait of a beach, with several figures of people. Turbo glanced from the painting and at the room, a good vantage point of everything. A nod, and he whipped out several small power drills from his sleeve.

Turbo quickly drilled a hole through a black spot on the painting, a splotch of shadow on some beach rocks. He also started to drill a tiny hole in the wall. With a hum, he rummaged into his pocket to pull out a tiny glass bead. Turbo wiped the ‘front’ of the glass with his gloved thumb and sang a little song as he inserted a camera.

“Raindrops keep falling on my head. And just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed––”

[Turbo! Turbo can you hear me!?]

“Krrrr––This is Turbo Radio, we are on the air.” Turbo hung the portrait back up and started to pin another camera on a standing lamp. “Today, we got a very special guest calling. Go ahead, Snow Man.”

[Get out. Get out now.]

“...Why?”

[Cap got word from the lieutenant. Gold Neck, Silver Tooth! They’re private military contractors!]

Turbo blinked, glanced at the bags full of weapons and C4, then shook his head. “Uh. Duuuuuh. I think that’s pretty clea––”

[They’ve taken the elevator back to their room! S-sorry I didn’t see them leave while I was on the phone!]

“YOU HAD ONE JOB!”