“You there, Maggie?” asked the dainty, young voice through the speaker in his ear. “Did you find it?”

Arms crossed over his chest, the Magpie's brow furrowed as he stared at the dilapidated apartment building. The windows were dirty and cracked, covered from the inside with paper and tape. The brick was crumbling, leaving gaping holes in the outer walls, and grass and weeds pushed their way through the broken pieces. This building should have been condemned and demolished years ago, yet here it sat, nestled among a row of rundown apartments and shops. A few people passed him on the sidewalk, eyeing him with an uneasy curiosity as he scowled up the five stories. He cleared his throat, pulling his hood low over his face.

“Are you sure about this, Squirrel?” He kept his deep voice hushed so passersby wouldn’t hear more than the muffled muttering of a crazy person. “No one lives here. Squatters and addicts maybe, but this place is abandoned.”

There was a light, thoughtful humming in his ear, then, “That’s the last location I have for her. Five-twelve. Guess you’ll just have to go in and check it out, huh?” The last sentence was playful, the delicate voice cheerfully handing responsibility over to him.

With a low groan, followed by a resigned sigh, the Magpie headed up the worn stone steps and into the main entrance. The metal door sat crooked on its hinges and couldn’t be locked. Inside, the hallway was dark except for the occasional flickering florescent above his head.

Wonderful. I’ve walked into a horror movie. Who would pay the electric bill for a place like this?

It was useless pondering and he pushed it from his mind, trudging up the five flights of stairs. He had noticed an elevator, but with the condition of this place, he wasn’t about to risk it.

“This is a loan shark job?” he asked his friend in a whisper as he reached the fifth-floor landing. “She’s a high paid escort and took out a loan, but she lives here? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“A Rising Suns escort.” The voice was not as light and friendly now. “Could be servitude. Maybe she’s trying to buy her way out.”

Grunting a low reply, he continued down the hall, knowing Squirrel didn’t want to have that conversation. He wasn’t particularly interested in reminiscing either. The past was better left in the past.

Moaning, coughing, and crying surrounded him, eerie sounds seeping out and mixing in the otherwise silent building. Then from somewhere above came muffled shouting, followed by feet stomping and who-knows-what crashing to the floor. As he reached his destination, the door next to him opened. A frail, sunken-faced man stepped out and the Magpie kept his head low, but he wasn’t interesting enough. The stranger passed by without a glance.

Lifting a hand to knock, he heard rustling, then low voices coming from inside. He hesitated. “Someone else is here.”

He gently tested the handle. Finding it unlocked, he squat low and silently slipped in, taking a long, thin knife from his boot. The air in the apartment was thick and stale. Barely across the doorstep, two unmistakable smells hit him – sex and blood. Crouched by the entry, he let his eyes adjust and saw the slender form of a woman, naked and ravaged, only a few feet ahead.

Guess they’re not getting that money back, he thought, shaking his head at the sight.

Eyes darting around the room, he quickly took in his surroundings. From the layout, this was a tiny one-bedroom. The living room and kitchen were a mess - furniture overturned, cupboards and drawers pulled open, and everything emptied and strewn across counters and the floor. Someone was clearly looking for something. Rummaging sounds came from an open door in the corner, then a gruff voice.

“Where the hell is it?” the voice grumbled loudly. “I don’t even know what the hell I’m looking for.”

“Shut up and keep searching,” another voice ordered, younger and lighter, but just as frustrated. “The Boss’ll have our heads if we killed that whore for nothin’.”

The Magpie’s head shook again, the grip on his knife loosening. It was a shame things ended this way, but this wasn’t the job, and there was no longer any reason to stay. He couldn’t risk being discovered. Spinning back toward the door, he was about to stand when he heard a low, menacing cackle.

“Well, who do we have here?” teased the gruff voice.

The question was followed by a snicker from his partner, then a tiny, high-pitched cry.

Shit.

In an instant, the Magpie was in the bedroom, slamming the stranger closest to him hard between the legs. Grabbing the man as his body doubled over in pain, he twisted an arm and kicked at the back of a knee, placing his knife firmly at the man’s throat.

“Remove your hands and back away, or he dies.”

Only a few feet away, the other stranger was frozen, caught trying to drag a tiny figure out from under an old, metal frame bed. He let go, the figure scrambling back into hiding as he stood and lifted his hands. His eyes were shining in wicked anticipation, as if he was eager to confront this newcomer. Or perhaps eager to see his partner have his throat sliced open. Wearing an almost gleeful grin, he took a few steps closer.

“Hey man.” With a chuckle, the stranger took another step forward, forcing the Magpie to pull his prisoner back. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I don’t give a shit about that guy. And I can’t leave here empty handed.”

The hostage began to reply, but his Adam’s apple slid against the blade and his breathing halted in fear. At this distance, in the dim light streaming through the paper-covered window, the cocky stranger’s face was visible and his appearance familiar. Before the Magpie could search his memory, the man took in a sharp breath and leaned forward, hands falling to his sides.

“Huh? Nate?” His grin grew wide and his gruff voice trembled in excitement. “Holy shit, it’s Nate!”