Chapter 251: The Golden Nugget Hotel [1]

I recalled what Kunta had told me during our tense conversation in that hotel room at the Whitesun.

She’d explained that Zakthar—her partner and fellow Starakian—had left her restrained and unconscious in that room before departing. She’d assumed it was temporary, that he’d return within hours or perhaps a day at most.

But when she’d finally awakened roughly two months later for reasons I still found deeply suspicious and couldn’t fully explain, Zakthar hadn’t been there. No trace of him, no message, no explanation for his absence.

She’d simply been waiting in that room ever since, hoping perhaps he would eventually come back and provide answers about what had happened during those missing months.

But this woman Lucy had just casually mentioned babysitting an alien.

I seriously doubted that Zakthar was receiving "babysitting" in the sense of being a willing guest or ally receiving hospitality and protection.

I mean, he was a Starakian—a member of the alien species that had hunted down the Symbiote parasites and orchestrated this entire apocalyptic invasion. Why would any Starakian voluntarily ally himself with Callighan, who had someone like Gaspar—an actual Symbiote Host—working as his enforcer?

The entire thing made no logical sense from a Starakian perspective.

Though admittedly, Kunta had mentioned that Zakthar was somehow different from other members of his species—that he’d advocated for peaceful coexistence or diplomatic solutions rather than the genocidal approach his people had ultimately chosen.

But even accounting for those ideological differences, I still profoundly doubted any Starakian would casually ally themselves with someone like Callighan, who had as his ally some dangerous Symbiote Host like Gaspar.

Unless Zakthar had been somehow coerced or had extremely compelling reasons for cooperation, voluntary alliance seemed implausible.

And more importantly, based on how Kunta had spoken about Zakthar—the obvious emotional closeness in her voice, the way she’d described their partnership—there was absolutely no reason for him to avoid contacting her if he was free to move around.

If Zakthar had been moving voluntarily in Atlantic City for the past two months, he would have returned to check on Kunta’s condition and explain his absence.

So that could explain precisely why Kunta hadn’t received any news or contact from him during her extended unconsciousness and subsequent waiting period.

Somehow, Callighan had managed to capture an actual Starakian and had been keeping him imprisoned here in this hotel.

I genuinely didn’t know how to feel about this.

How had regular humans even managed to capture a technologically-advanced alien? What methods had they used? What condition was Zakthar in now after months of imprisonment?

So this was the real reason this particular location was so heavily guarded—multiple armed patrols, working electricity, constant vigilance. They weren’t just protecting boats and monitoring the Boardwalk. They were guarding an extraordinarily valuable alien prisoner.

Did Callighan perhaps have plans to use Zakthar somehow? Extract information about Starakian technology or weaknesses? Use him as a bargaining chip in negotiations?

Regardless, this revelation changed my assessment of what was happening here.

The likelihood of Mei being held at this location had just dropped significantly. If this facility’s main purpose was securing Zakthar, they probably wouldn’t risk keeping other high-value prisoners here and potentially complicating the security situation.

Leaning back against the door, I clenched my fists upset and a bit distraught.

I had been a fool to hope Mei would be here obviously.

But...

My eyes narrowed as something else crystalized in my head.

"You took Mei from us," I muttered under my breath. "So I’ll take your precious Starakian prisoner in exchange."

Without further hesitation, I began walking through the corridor, my hand axe gripped.

If I could somehow locate and extract Zakthar—get him out of Callighan’s custody—I would suddenly possess tremendous leverage and negotiating power.

Maybe I could even arrange some kind of exchange or deal with Kunta herself. That might represent the safest, most effective solution to ensure Mei wouldn’t be harmed and that we could successfully recover her without a direct confrontation against Gaspar and Callighan’s full forces.

I reached the door at the corridor’s end and carefully pushed it open just enough to peer inside cautiously.

The space beyond appeared to be a hotel lobby—quite a large, impressive one actually, with high ceilings and elegant architecture that must have been striking before the outbreak.

It seemed oddly placed on what I thought was the first floor rather than ground level, but the building’s complex structure probably meant the layouts were unconventional.

Now the main question: how could I possibly find one imprisoned Starakian in this massive hotel complex?

Where would they logically hide an alien prisoner of such strategic value?

Maybe they’d simply placed him in a random guest room, trying to hide him in plain sight among hundreds of identical doors?

If that was their approach, I might genuinely never find him without systematically searching every floor and room—an impossible task given time constraints and security patrols.

Damn it... I needed to think more.

That Starakian prisoner must be under significant protection and surveillance. They wouldn’t leave such a valuable asset unguarded or minimally secured.

If I could identify where the heaviest concentration of guards was positioned—that might lead me to Zakthar’s location.

Suddenly, I heard approaching footsteps and voices echoing from somewhere nearby.

I quickly dove behind the large reception desk, pressing myself into the shadowed space beneath the counter.

"Damn, I would have absolutely killed to stay in a luxury hotel like this before everything went to hell," one male voice said wistfully. "But now it just feels kind of depressing and empty. None of the amenities work properly."

"You bet," his companion agreed. "There’s nothing left that made these places special anymore. No room service, no entertainment. Man, I genuinely miss women—like, normal social interaction with women."

"There are plenty of women around here you could pursue, you know," the first voice pointed out.

"They all reject me immediately," came the dejected response. "Every single one."

"Then just take what you want by force," the first man suggested casually, as if recommending a restaurant. "Are you dumb or something? Why ask permission in this lawless world?"

"Because Callighan and Lucy will literally kill me, you dumbass," his friend replied with obvious fear. "They’ve executed people for less."

"Williams doesn’t get killed even though he forces himself on women constantly without their consent," the first man countered.

"Yeah, but that guy is a complete freak, and that psychotic yellow monster Gaspar apparently likes him for some reason," the other explained. "So even Callighan and Lucy don’t do much to stop him. He’s protected."

"What the fuck, man," the first voice said with disgust. "Who are we even really working for here?"

"I work for Callighan and Lucy—period," his companion said. "I ain’t listening to orders from that yellow whatever monster or those other freaks who broke out of prison with Callighan. Those guys creep me out."

"Yeah, same mindset here," the first agreed. "I heard the people there over at Brigantine are even worse—more of those escaped convicts and violent psychos. I definitely prefer staying here with the hot Lucy in charge."

"Exactly why I don’t really mind this assignment either," his friend chuckled. "Could be way worse."

I listened carefully to their entire conversation as they walked across the lobby and eventually exited through another door.

They’d just mentioned Brigantine—the location across the inlet where it seems Callighan was along his other forces, likely Gaspar was there too.

As I’d suspected, Callighan himself seemed to be headquartered there rather than at this forward position.

And quite possibly, that’s where Mei was being held.

Every instinct screamed at me to immediately abandon this reconnaissance, leave the hotel, and rush directly toward Brigantine to search for her.

But Christopher’s earlier words echoed in my mind, restraining that impulsive urge.

I had to play this carefully and intelligently. I couldn’t just charge recklessly into enemy territory without solid intelligence or planning.

My life was now tied to other women I deeply cared about—Rachel, Sydney, Elena, and Cindy. They deserved better than a boyfriend who got himself killed through stupid heroics.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, I peeked cautiously out from behind the reception desk, carefully scanning the lobby to make absolutely certain no one else was present.

Those two guards had come from a door at the far end of the lobby—probably leading to another wing of the building’s complex layout.

Slipping out from my concealment behind the reception desk, I moved quickly across the open lobby space and reached the door those guards had emerged from moments earlier.

I grasped the handle and pulled it open, immediately stepping through—then felt my expression fall with disappointment at what I discovered.

This was just a converted break room that Callighan’s people had apparently transformed into a casual resting and recreational space for off-duty guards.

There was a battered table positioned in the center surrounded by mismatched chairs, its surface littered with scattered playing cards from an abandoned game, half-finished cigarettes still smoldering in makeshift ashtrays, empty water bottles, and various personal effects.

Nothing remotely useful for my mission. Just another dead end.

"What...."

But then I felt something strange—a distinctive prickling sensation that I’d come to recognize as my Dullahan-enhanced awareness detecting something significant nearby.

It was like a subtle vibration resonating through my bones, a frequency just barely perceptible at the edge of consciousness that made my enhanced senses focus involuntarily.

I turned slowly toward another door connected to this room—a door I hadn’t initially noticed because it was positioned awkwardly in the corner, partially obscured by a filing cabinet.

I found myself walking toward it almost without conscious decision, as if drawn by that strange resonance, and pushed the door open to look inside the space beyond.

"What the...?!"

My eyes widened in profound shock seeing what was revealed in that small storage room.

"This is..."

Positioned precisely in the middle of the cramped space was a device I immediately recognized—a small white cube with distinctive alien geometric patterns etched across its surface.

A Starakian Matrix Box. It definitely looked like one of their signature technologies, though smaller than the examples I’d encountered before.

But this one had been heavily modified. Numerous wires and cables were connected to various points across its surface—some kind of jury-rigged integration with human electrical systems that looked both sophisticated and dangerously improvised.

Now that I was paying closer attention to the full setup...

Looking down, I could see the bundled wires continuing across the floor, snaking along the baseboard, and even extending outward through a partially-open window—clearly connecting this device to something external, perhaps the power grid supplying electricity to this entire facility.

The white cube was visibly active, emitting a faint humming sound and a barely-perceptible glow from its seams. And embedded in a socket on its front face was a yellow crystalline stone—an energy core of some kind.

The stone was considerably smaller in comparison to the massive Tri-Core Matrix we’d discovered in Jackson Township, or even the dual-core device Kunta possessed. But despite its reduced size, the energy it was radiating felt incredibly potent and concentrated.

What exactly was this device doing?

It was clearly active...

I approached more closely, and the vibration I’d been sensing grew dramatically louder and more intense—resonating uncomfortably through my skull like the beginnings of a headache.

Damn it.

As always, Starakian technologies seemed to be designed as anti-Symbiote countermeasures. Even their utility devices that weren’t meant as weapons still produced effects that were profoundly uncomfortable or threatening to hosts like me.

Even this relatively unthreatening power supply or whatever it was felt vaguely hostile to my enhanced biology. I had to give it to them however, they had remarkably made a comeback against the Symbiotes who invaded them first...

Regardless I needed to understand what it was doing. I couldn’t just ignore it.

I reached out my hand toward the glowing cube carefully, intending to examine it more closely or perhaps disable it.

"Don’t move a single muscle."

I froze instantly.