X-157 really did look like a snowman, Isaac thought, dazed by the reality around him. Short, stocky legs, a round belly, and a round face. But not in pure white, more like one built from the dirty snow scraped off the street.

"Why are you doing this, 157?"

"Because Pope Zodiac promised me money. A lot of money, actually. Isn’t that reason enough in this world?"

"And you honestly believe that narcissistic cheapskate will give you even a single cent? When this is all over, and he’s got what he wants, he’ll kill both of us without batting an eye."

"He won’t have to kill you," the snowman said. "Because I’m going to do that first."

"Still mad? Still not over it?"

"Shut up."

Even after non-stop ringing, no one answered the door. Isaac checked the name on the doorbell against the name scribbled on the scrap of toilet paper they’d gotten from Pope Zodiac. It was the right one. But the corporate mole with the secret documents wasn’t home.

With the words, "There’s never any money on this thing anyway," Isaac slid his bank card through the door crack until it bent and snapped. He pulled out his more flexible ID card and tried again. This time, he managed to bend the plastic just enough to jiggle the door between the lock and the latch, finally getting it open.

"Quiet, 157," he whispered.

"Why? What’s the point?"

"Maybe she’s asleep."

The air inside smelled fresh and was bitterly cold in his lungs. Not much different from outside. The windows must have been open all day.

Suddenly, the lights flickered on.

His heart pounded in his chest.

"Turn off the lights, 157," he whispered angrily.

"Why? If the scientist were here, the doorbell would have woken her up by now. Relax. She’s gone, and we’re going to tear this place apart until we find those secret papers."

"Fine," Isaac muttered, still uneasy. Something wasn’t right about the apartment. Why hadn’t she locked the door? Why had she left all the windows open?

"You check the kitchen, I’ll search the bedroom," X-157 decided, already on his way before Isaac could say anything.

A few weeks ago, which now felt like years, Isaac wouldn’t have let this dumb snowman boss him around. But their forced partnership had created a sort of uneasy truce. All that drove Isaac now was the thought of finding Tabitha. He’d lost his job over it, and he’d gotten involved in a fate that anyone else would have run from. Pope Zodiac was a madman, but also his only lead to Tabitha.

The Pope of the PROMISED LAND had been right about one thing: they were a team now. And whether it was friends, love, or rivals, sometimes you had to learn to live with compromise. Letting X-157 spout nonsense, putting up with being bossed around here and there... it was a small price to pay for what Isaac was getting in return: a chance. New hope. The driving force he’d lost after years of searching.

"Found anything yet?"

"Nothing," Isaac hissed, clattering around with the pots in the kitchen. "You?"

"Yeah. Come here. Something pretty weird."

"Something pretty...?" A feeling of unease crawled up Isaac's spine as he headed to the abandoned bedroom at the snowman’s request. X-157 stood in the middle of the room, staring at the framed pictures on the walls. In the photos, the scientist posed seductively. Not at all how Isaac had imagined her. He thought she'd be more of a nerdy type, definitely not a cover model. But there she was. Super hot.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"Is that the mole?" the snowman asked.

Isaac gave him a look. "That’s why you called me over?"

"The mole’s smoking hot." X-157 hesitated, then headed straight for the old wooden dresser by the bed, opening the drawers one by one, from the top down to the very last. He found some skimpy panties, lingerie, sex toys, and a lot of other stimulating surprises. Buried under the underwear was a pink negligee. X-157 pulled it out of the drawer, hooked the straps around his fingers, and examined it at arm's length.

"I’m taking this as evidence," he said. "No, better yet: for my wife."

"And what’s she supposed to do with that?" Isaac asked.

"After we finish the job, I’ll have enough money to pay for her liposuction. Then she can squeeze into this sexy little number," he replied, stuffing the scientist’s negligee into the front pocket of his overalls. "Yeah, a whole bunch of sexy stuff. Check out this little thing." He held up a red thong next, the sheer amount of material used in its design setting a new standard in minimalism. "A wisp of nothing," he added, excited, as he pressed the thong to his nose like a mask, inhaling through the fabric. He exhaled with satisfaction, then shoved the thong into his pocket, buttoned it up, and gave his chest a proud pat.

"We’re supposed to be looking for secret data, not lingerie, you idiot."

The elegant double bed stood on delicate silver legs, with red silk sheets carefully folded on the mattress. The scientist clearly had a thing for symmetry and order, Isaac thought as he glanced around the room. He had never felt more out of place than he did snooping around in someone else’s apartment.

Fear crept up his neck, the constant anxiety that they might get caught.

"What are you doing over by the wall?" the snowman asked after a while.

"Something’s off here," Isaac replied, running his hands over the wallpaper.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"There are grooves here. Like there’s... a door... behind it." He started taking the picture frames down one by one, suspecting there might be a hidden switch behind one of them. He knew it was a popular hiding spot in movies, and the era he lived in wasn’t exactly bursting with creativity or new ideas. Thanks to the internet, cheap smartphones, and social media corporations, the time he lived in marked the rise of the loudmouths, those masses of people who previously had no voice but suddenly found a way to connect with and impress others like them with stupid shit, because they couldn’t do anything else. And there were plenty of people to impress. The so-called "influencers" had ushered in this age of unoriginality, where even fashion was just a revival of the past, where mediocrity was the new power, and where the art of stupidity was, for the first time in human history, recognized and celebrated as modern art. Postmodernism was followed by two eras: Idiotism, which passed so quickly it only lasted from 2020 to 2030, like a virus infecting the global population, and then the beginning of the end times, the dawn of the apocalypse, still ongoing, and yet to receive a catchy name from the media.

"I’ve found something!" Isaac called out, surprised. Apart from the faint sniffing of X-157, still busy rummaging through the underwear drawer, Isaac could hear the distant wail of police sirens, slowly fading into the distance.

"There are more pictures in this drawer," X-157 said. "My god. This scientist… she’s insanely hot. It’s all... nude photos."

"You idiot, listen to me for once in your life! I found something! Something really suspicious! Behind one of the picture frames," Isaac shouted. "A switch. Why would anyone hide a switch behind a picture frame? Hello? Are you listening? I’m saying it’s not a light switch."

But X-157 was lost in his own world, a world of erotic fantasies and rising urges. Isaac was about to press the switch when suddenly he heard something coming from another room. A groan of pain that made both him and X-157 freeze.

"Did you hear that?"

"Of course," Isaac whispered. "It came from ..."

They’d searched the kitchen and the bedroom. That left only...

The bathroom!

Isaac turned to the snowman, who was already stomping out of the room. Isaac didn’t get more than ten steps down the hallway before he stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the closed bathroom door, where X-157 stood. A faint light shone from under the door, casting a dim glow across the floorboards.

That feeling, the one that told him danger was near and sharpened his senses, surged through his body.

Something was very, very wrong here.

From behind the bathroom door, he heard a faint whimper.

A wave of unease flooded Isaac’s body, manifesting as cold sweat. Pressing his ear against the door, he gripped the handle tightly.

Someone was in there, no doubt.

And they were in trouble, no question about it.

They needed help.

"Open it!" X-157 whispered impatiently.

Isaac yanked the door open, stepping over a bucket filled with blood-tinged cleaning water.

"Oh gosh..."

He leaned the long wooden handle of a mop against the wall and walked toward the shower.

A shadow crouched behind the curtain.

Isaac hesitated, glanced at X-157, who gave him a silent nod, then swallowed hard.

He raised his trembling hand to the curtain...

....and yanked it aside in one swift motion.

"Holy crap!" X-157 shouted.

Isaac's heart leapt into his throat.

And what he saw made him freeze in sheer terror.