The hotel suite radiated quiet luxury, with soft light filtering through heavy drapes and silk sheets spilling across a vast bed. Master Kratos dominated the space, his imposing frame settled into a plush armchair, an aura of authority radiating from him. On his feet, a pair of well-worn white Nike Air Force 1 Mids bore the scars of countless journeys—scuffed leather yellowed at the edges, creases carved deep into the toebox, and a frayed Swoosh that whispered of their storied past. The sneakers, weathered yet commanding, seemed an extension of Kratos’ unyielding presence.
Noticing a faint layer of dust on the desk and a crease in the bedding, Kratos grunted and reached for the phone. “Send someone to clean this room. Now,” he ordered, his voice a low rumble that demanded compliance.
A soft knock soon followed, and the door opened to reveal Elliot, a young male maid, dressed in a sleek black uniform that hugged his frame, the fabric crisp yet slightly wrinkled from his shift. His eyes flickered nervously as they met Kratos’ piercing gaze, lingering briefly on the worn Air Force 1s before he pushed a cleaning cart inside.
“Get started,” Kratos commanded, leaning back, one leg crossed over the other, the sneakers prominently displayed. The scuffed leather caught the light, each mark a testament to their enduring presence. Elliot nodded, his hands unsteady as he began wiping down surfaces with hurried precision.
As Elliot reached for a glass of water on the bedside table, his arm brushed it, sending a small splash onto the toebox of Kratos’ Air Force 1s. The droplets clung to the already-yellowed leather, a minor offense on the weathered surface. Elliot froze, his face paling beneath his black uniform. “I’m so sorry, sir!” he stammered, dropping to his knees with a rag, his eyes darting between the damp toebox and Kratos’ stern expression.
Kratos’ lips curled into a subtle, predatory smirk. He rose, his shadow looming over Elliot. “You’ve dirtied my shoes,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, each word heavy with authority. “These aren’t just sneakers. They’ve walked paths you can’t imagine. And you think an apology will do?”
Elliot’s breath caught, his hands trembling as he clutched the rag, the black sleeves of his uniform shifting slightly. “I’ll clean them, sir, I swear! I can’t lose this job!”
Kratos tilted his head, his eyes glinting with opportunity. He sank onto the edge of the bed, the silk sheets crinkling under his weight, and extended one foot toward Elliot. The Air Force 1 hovered before him, its worn toebox speckled with the faint water droplets, the scuffs and creases demanding attention. “Clean them,” Kratos ordered, his tone a velvet command. “Every inch, spotless, or you’re finished here.”
Elliot’s heart pounded, fear and urgency swirling in his chest. He knelt closer, his black uniform brushing the floor as his rag met the sneaker’s toebox. The leather was soft but weathered, rough where dirt had settled into the grain. He wiped carefully, almost reverently, drying the faint droplets and tracing the frayed Swoosh and yellowed toebox. Each scuff seemed a story of Kratos’ dominance, unyielding under his touch.
Kratos reclined on the bed, propped on his elbows, his gaze fixed on Elliot’s work. The maid’s hands moved faster, the black fabric of his uniform shifting as he polished the leather with desperate precision, coaxing a faint gleam from the surface. The creases remained, indelible, but the Air Force 1s shone under his care.
“Good,” Kratos murmured, his voice a low growl of approval. He shifted, extending the other foot, its sneaker equally worn, the sole flecked with faint traces of dirt. “Don’t miss a spot.”
Elliot swallowed, his fingers brushing the textured leather, the act charged with the weight of Kratos’ authority. He worked in silence, the only sounds the soft rustle of the rag and the occasional creak of the bed as Kratos watched, his presence unrelenting.
As Elliot finished, the Air Force 1s gleamed faintly, their weathered beauty restored. Kratos inspected them, nodding slowly. “Adequate,” he said, dismissing Elliot with a wave. The maid scrambled to his feet, the black uniform slightly disheveled as he gathered his cart and hurried out, relief flooding his face.
Kratos leaned back, his Air Force 1s resting on the floor, their scuffs and creases a quiet testament to his command, ready for the next path they’d tread.
Follow Master Kratos
