The Bathrobe Knight: Volume 3 by Charles Dean Page B

That’s it . . . All the executives are vampires who accumulated their wealth over centuries and are now just making video games based on monsters that are real, monsters like Darwin, that people don’t know about . . . she hypothesized as she tried to navigate the room. The room was so uniformly white that she almost tripped over a chair near the door as she tried to find her way out of the room. This guy’s taste really is horrible. He needs to add a few colors, she critiqued as she finally opened the door to leave.
    “Good morning, ma’am. You’re expected in kitchen number four.” One of the black-suited men straight out of a conspiracy movie was waiting for her as soon as the door opened. Kass noted that he didn’t even bother turning to look at her as he spoke. Instead, he maintained his stalwart position staring at the wall on the other side of the hallway.
    “Kitchen number four? No chance you can show me where that is?” Kass did her best to adjust her clothes, suddenly self-conscious of her appearance. She had been to enough parties to know that there was little she could do to redeem an outfit she had slept in, but given she that hadn’t brought anything else with her to wear, this was the best she was going to be able to do.
    “Of course, ma’am. Right this way.” His voice was a low monotone that was so steady and unchanging that it could have rivaled a tired school professor trying to give the same lecture after forty years. The man turned and began walking down the hallway as soon as he finished speaking without ever looking back.
    “Umm, sooo . . . My name is Kass. What’s yours?” Kass did her best to make small talk as the bodyguard led her down one hallway after another in the maze-like complex that Kass could only assume to be Charles’s home. It didn’t feel like an office since most of the rooms she passed appeared to be empty. There was an occasionally humming sound that came from behind a few doors that sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite figure out why.
    “I know,” the man responded, completely ignoring her question.
    Kass frowned. “Don’t talk much, do you? Is your name classified, or is it just too embarrassing to mention?” She tried to break the awkwardness of her bizarre situation, but her guide just kept silently leading her down the hallway. Jerk. She almost mumbled it out loud, but just left the word lingering in her thoughts instead as she inspected the uniform walls on each side of her.
    How far is it to just get to a kitchen? At this rate, I could have walked to the convenience store, bought a six pack and been halfway back to the house if I were still at home. I bet this is why Charles is still in such good shape at his age. He has to spend forever walking just to get around his own house. That must be the secret to how rich people always look younger: they spend so much time trekking around their own enormous homes.
    After about ten minutes and a few flights of stairs, they finally stopped in front of a large set of double doors that came up on their left. “We’re here,” the man said, finally breaking his silence. He opened the door and then stood to the side of it as he had before.
    She walked in to find a rather quaint-looking kitchen. Despite all the ultra-chic, sleek modern design that had gone into other rooms, this kitchen was so ordinary that it could have been in any one of the numerous houses that stretched up and down her neighborhood. The kitchen had cheap-looking laminate countertops, wood veneer cabinets and a fridge with the tell-tale water dispenser built into it that gave away the appliance’s age. It had two simple round tables, each of which was surrounded by chairs. One was large enough to fit seven or eight people, and the other was only large enough to fit four--if their plates weren’t too big. In fact, as her eyes passed over the room, she began to notice that nothing seemed to be new or modern. There wasn’t a single piece of