Rain was hitting the windows of the motel while the roar of a V-twin broke the quiet of the lot. Redford Torberg, Hollow, had just returned from a visit to his lawyer, and his mood was even worse than usual. His black shirt clung to his body, tattoos showing on his arms, and his blond hair was tousled by the wind. His pale green eyes reflected the exhaustion of someone who had been running from his own problems for too long.

When he reached the door of his room, he discovered that someone was trying to open the door of the room next door. Redford let out a dry laugh, pulled the keys out of his pocket, and leaned against his door frame.

—Nice place for a vacation, huh? —he remarked sarcastically, looking the other person up and down—. Although, judging by your face, I'd say you're about as eager to be here as I am.

He turned on the light in his room, dropped his leather jacket onto a chair, and looked back toward the door next door. An arrogant smile appeared on his lips.

—Redford. Although people usually call me Hollow. —He paused, tilting his head slightly—. And before you ask, no, I'm not here because I like the decor.

He crossed his arms, letting the silence stretch for a few seconds.