“Maggie?” The delicate voice was a whisper in his ear, and he responded with a low hum. “Is it okay to speak now?”

“Yeah.”

In the dim light of the bedroom, the Magpie could see the child huddled in his arms more clearly. A girl. Dirty blond, wavy hair was messily cut into a short bob, and she had fair skin and a thin frame. Her face pressed hard into his shoulder, with only her back visible, but based on her size and weight, he was certain she was young. Probably no more than three- or four-years-old. The little, blue checkered sundress she wore was dusty from crawling under the bed, but otherwise, it looked almost new. A barrette covered in flowers pinned some of her wild strands behind an ear, and she already had a small stud pierced into the lobe. Even under these circumstances, in this dingy, abandoned place, she had been well-cared for. A new and unpleasant weight pressed at his chest knowing that the battered, breathless woman in the living room had loved this girl.

Taking in a breath, he filled his tight lungs and forced the heavy feeling away. It was clear he wouldn’t be seeing the rest of the girl any time soon, so he continued to gently rub her back. “Squirrel, I’ve been here too long. Can you meet me at the loft?”

“What happened over there? What’s the bigger issue?”

“No time. I’ll tell you later.”

“Mags, wait, I-“

He pressed the bud in his ear and the voice was gone, the connection cut off. The all too familiar metallic smell was thick in his nose now and he couldn’t linger. Carefully standing, holding the shaking bundle in one arm, he realized she was smaller than he expected. Curled against his six-foot-two, muscular build, she fit snuggly in the fold of his elbow, her dangling feet not even reaching his waist.

So many questions raced through his mind, but now wasn’t the time. As former Lost Horizon, he knew if those men didn’t check in soon, more would come looking.

One problem at a time.

There was no need to clean up – he had no records and his DNA and fingerprints weren’t in any database – but he couldn’t just walk the streets like this. Even in this rundown area, there was bound to be a CCTV or traffic camera somewhere. Then cameras in cabs, cameras in the subway – he had to cover the child up. If someone recognized her or the Suns had any idea of her appearance, she wouldn’t be safe and this would have been a waste.

With the girl hanging from his neck, he rummaged through an old, standing wardrobe near the bed, then a dresser on the far wall. The selection was sparse. Taking a closer look around the room, he noticed the place was mostly empty. This was an emergency hideout, not a home.

Thankfully, the girl didn’t lift her head as he carefully navigated around the bodies and the dark pools collecting beneath them. After a quick rinse to wash the blood from his hand, he scanned the rest of the tossed apartment and found a long raincoat hanging beside the door. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do. Sitting in the nearest chair, he moved his support and let the girl land lightly on his lap, arms still squeezing tight around him. The large hood easily concealed her tiny head, engulfing her and flopping over his shoulder. He wrapped the rest of her body up the best he could, cocooning her in the slick polyester, then lifted her up again.

Securing a black mask over his nose and mouth, with the oversized hood of his black sweatshirt shadowing his face, he quietly opened the door and peeked down the hallway. The sounds were the same as before, muffled echoes of the poorest and worst of humanity, so he moved swiftly to the stairwell, then down to the street. He didn’t dare use his phone, walking casually but quickly for a few blocks until it was busy enough to catch a cab.

The image of the two must have been strange in early-March and decent weather, bundled up while the rest of the population was eagerly welcoming spring. Eyes followed them as they moved, but he found a few well-timed and particularly hoarse coughs made the cab driver, subway passengers, and passersby keep their distance. It was his favorite trick. No one liked a sick person.

After taking a long and roundabout route to prevent the Suns, or anyone else, from tracking the pair, they stood in front of an old but well-maintained warehouse in the South Bronx. No one came to this area regularly, an old factory district that was no longer in active use, but not abandoned enough for revitalization. The girl had finally stopped trembling, her breathing calm and steady, and the Magpie let out a sigh as he headed into the building.

“What the hell, Maggie! You can’t just...” The animated scolding trailed off into silence and Squirrel’s jaw dropped open, eyes wide and staring at the tightly wrapped body hanging from his shoulder.

He didn’t wait for his frozen friend to process, shutting the large, metal door behind him and stepping around to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. The loft wasn’t large, but the open layout made it seem spacious, with just a single wall hiding the bedroom from view. Sunlight streamed in through tall windows, and the exposed brick made it feel rustic and warm. He wasn’t sure why he liked that so much. Perhaps because it was an odd contrast to his own cold demeanor, it gave his life a false feeling of normalcy.

Snapping out of their stupor, Squirrel came rushing to his side, neck craning to examine the package he carried. At only five-four, the height difference was significant, and his friend stood on tiptoes trying to gently remove the jacket. When it was gone, a gasp escaped Squirrel’s lips.

“Maggie...” Their dainty voice hesitated again, unsure of how to react to the ridiculous sight. “Why is there a small child attached to your neck?”