Underneath the pitch-black sky, with no moon or stars to be seen, the sound of cawing crows echoed loudly nearby, only amplifying the eerie atmosphere and making Spencer almost jump in fright. To say he was terrified would be an understatement; his heart thumping loudly in his chest with every step that he took as he cautiously scanned his surroundings. However, despite the occasional rustle or noise that could be heard all around him, Spencer could see nothing but abandoned buildings spread out on either side, all shrouded in complete darkness. Even still, the wary look in his eyes didn't vanish as he continued his way down the street, scanning every building he passed. His attention focused on the graffiti-covered entrances as he looked for the green pentagon he'd been told about earlier.
As more time passed with still no sign of the building mentioned by the kidnapper, Spencer began to feel the hold he had over his emotions begin to falter. Still, he did his best to make as little noise as possible. The last thing he wanted was to alert anyone in the vicinity to his location. From all that he had read before he had left, he knew this wasn't the most welcome of places, especially at night. That was why, before he had left, he had made sure to bring some protection.
His left hand, concealed inside his black hoodie pocket, wrapped tightly around the worn handle of the pistol hidden inside. Originally, Spencer had hoped that bringing such a weapon would help alleviate some of his fear, offering a sense of control. However, so far, it had only had the opposite effect, intensifying his nerves with every step that he took. In hindsight, he shouldn't have been surprised. After all, he'd never used a gun before.
The only reason he even had one to begin with was because it was one of the many things he had stolen from his deadbeat dad when he had run away from home as a teenager. He wasn't even sure if it worked, having had no time to test it after spending most of the day catching up on some much-needed rest. Yet despite it all, Spencer didn't release his grip on the pistol as he moved forward, even though he wanted to. Letting go simply wasn't an option, not when he had no idea what he was about to walk in on. He needed some form of defence–just in case.
Fortunately, it seemed he wouldn't need the pistol just yet, as he finally spotted the building he'd been searching for. At the very end of the street stood a large abandoned structure the size of a factory, made entirely of concrete with pieces of rebar and debris scattered all along the edge. The building loomed metres away from the choppy sea that bordered the western edge of the city, not far from a sprawling dock visible in the distance. However, most importantly of all, was the graffiti-covered entrance, where, in the top right-hand corner, a prominent neon green pentagon could be seen, just like the kidnapper had said.
Slowly, Spencer began making his way forward. By the time he arrived at the entrance, he was beyond nervous. His fearful expression stared back at him from the metal shutter, revealing the freshly shaven and cleaned face he had hidden underneath the hood of his hoodie. Even so, he drew a deep breath, steeling his nerves and trying to calm his racing heart as he tightened his grip on the pistol. Only after he had regained a degree of composure did he reach for the shutter's handle, pulling it up to reveal the building's front entrance with a clanging rattle.
Darkness, absolute darkness. That was what greeted Spencer as he peered into the building. No matter how hard he tried, the interior refused to reveal itself. All he received was absolute silence, with not even an echo able to be heard from inside. Yet even so, after a few seconds, Spencer cautiously edged his way inside, knowing he didn't have a choice. Only then, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, was he finally able to see what lay around him.
The first thing Spencer noticed as he scanned his surroundings was the sheer scale of the building, with it spanning at least a hundred metres in length and rising thirty metres in height. A close second, however, was just how much of a shit hole the space really was. Detritus and trash littered the vast expanse of the building. Broken pieces of wood and metal lay scattered across the entire floor, while piles of decaying boxes, sagging under their own weight, and broken furniture sat along the border. Overall, it looked as if the building had been abandoned for years, something that shouldn't have come as a shock to Spencer but did regardless.
However, that thought swiftly changed when, after making sure he was well and truly alone, his attention was captured by something else, something that he immediately knew didn't belong. There, in the very centre of the room, sat a large, waist-high, wooden box. However, unlike the other boxes that occupied the space, it was in pristine condition, possessing not a speck of rot or dust and looking brand new.
Seeing this, and noticing nothing else unusual around him, Spencer prepared to investigate the box more closely, despite the uneasy feeling it stirred inside him. Yet, just before he could do so, his phone, tucked into his back pocket, suddenly began to ring, jolting him with a start due to his frayed nerves. Quickly, Spencer went to answer, already knowing exactly who it was going to be. As he did so, a small part of him couldn't help but wonder when he'd last received so many calls in such a short span of time. It was a thought that would have made him chuckle if he weren't so nervous, feeling as if he could throw up any minute.
"Ahh, Spencer, I'm glad to see you made it in time. How did you find the drive? You didn't get lost, did you?"
Spencer simply ignored the benign chatter being said, knowing any reaction would just spur the kidnapper on further. "What do you want me to do next?"
"Aww, you're no fun. Fine, you see that box in the centre of the room? Why don't you go ahead and open it up?"
Upon hearing the gleeful and excited tone of the kidnapper, a rising sense of apprehension made itself known inside Spencer as he warily approached the box. After all, if whatever was inside could excite the psychopath on the other end of the phone so much, despite having no clue what could be inside, he knew it couldn't be anything good. And unfortunately, as he removed the solid wooden lid of the two metre long box, that assumption was swiftly proven correct. There, inside the box, to Spencer's disbelief, was what could only be described as a miniature armoury: a selection of weapons so vast it would have left a gun enthusiast drooling.
The moment he managed to actually process what he was looking at, Spencer immediately backpedalled away in retreat as he tried to rein in his shock. "What the fuck!"
"Haha, I see you've spotted our little care package." The kidnapper laughed loudly, clearly taking a large amount of pleasure in Spencer's horror.
"What the hell am I supposed to do with these?" Spencer asked, unable to take his eyes away from the matte black finished weapons before him.
"You'll see soon," The kidnapper replied cryptically. "Just know that the little pistol you have tucked in your pocket isn't going to be enough for what we have planned."
At those words, an onrush of paranoia quickly set in as Spencer darted his head to and fro, looking in every direction for some sign that he was being spied on. Yet just like before, besides the few rats he could see scurrying along the trash-covered floor, he saw nothing. Trying to stay calm, Spencer wondered how the kidnapper could have possibly known he had a gun in his pocket.
'Did he see it when I entered the building? Maybe it was when I was on my way here. Or maybe even back when I was at my apartment, the kidnapper did say he knew where I lived.' Spencer's thoughts began to spiral as the realisation that he was being watched finally hit him, intensifying his paranoia and leaving him feeling both anxious and exposed. However, if the kidnapper noticed, he didn't seem to care as he continued speaking.
"Don't get me wrong, it was a good idea to bring it along, I would have done the same thing in your position. Good initiative." The kidnapper commented, before his tone took a drastic turn, becoming like steel and devoid of any emotion, leaving the hairs on Spencer's neck standing to attention.
"However, I never told you to bring a gun. A gun, I pray for your sake, you brought along for purely protection against the petty criminals in the area. Otherwise, I would hate to think of what will happen to your daughter because of your actions."
In an instant, Spencer's blood ran cold, his face draining to a deathly white at the threat. "No! Please don't! I'm sorry! It won't happen again, I swear. Do what you want to me, but please don't hurt Lily!" At the end of Spencer's desperate pleading, there was a pause on the other end, leaving Spencer to wait in anxiety-ridden silence.
"I'll let you off this once." The kidnapper eventually replied, his voice still as deathly serious as before. "But let this be a warning, Spencer. Don't try to fuck us. Otherwise, you will not like the consequences."
"Thank you, thank you! I won't. I promise I won't." Spencer uttered in pure relief, uncaring about the sinister threat made.
"Now then. I think it's time you look at what else is inside the box and start to get geared up!" The kidnapper exclaimed, the serious tone he had held suddenly gone, having reverted back to one of glee and excitement.
"Geared up?" Spencer repeated, trying to process what was being said.
"Of course! You don't think I gave you all those guns just to shock you, right?"
At that moment, upon hearing those words, the worry Spencer had felt since morning about what job he might be forced to do, swiftly returned–stronger than before. He realised that his prior fears, which he had tried to dismiss as irrational in an effort to calm himself down, might not have been so outlandish after all. It was a realisation that hit him hard, leaving him light-headed and nauseous, teetering on the edge of vomiting. The only thing that stopped him was the meagre amount of food he'd managed to force down a few hours before.
"And why do I need all these weapons?" He asked worryingly, his gaze locked onto the opened wooden box and everything it held within.
"Fine, I guess I'll tell you now since it's clear you won't stop asking until I do." The unknown man sighed while Spencer clenched his fists tightly, doing his best to control his shaky breathing as he waited in trepidation.
"Five minutes from your location is an abandoned warehouse near the entrance of the docks. That warehouse is the base of operations for the Ferrymen, one of the most prominent gangs in the city. They are known for their smuggling and human trafficking operations, real pieces of shit, and that's coming from me. But that doesn't matter; what does is the fact that they have a stranglehold on the import of drugs into the city. So much so that there isn't an ounce of cocaine, meth or heroin in this city that hasn't passed through their hands."
The kidnapper continued to speak about everything he knew regarding the Ferrymen. He talked about their various operations, the crimes they had committed, how much manpower they possessed–every single aspect of the gang. This included a surprisingly in-depth account of their leader, a man named Ferdinand Salas, who had led the group for nearly two decades. And from the vivid image painted of the man, with his staggering height, bulging muscles and a jagged knife scar along the left side of his face, Spencer was left wishing he'd never have to meet him face to face.
At the large influx of information being spewed his way, Spencer tried to pay attention to everything being said. He did his best to ignore the sickening feeling in his gut as he learnt about the horrendous acts the Ferrymen committed. It was a difficult task, especially upon being told about their trafficking of children, some as young as five. However, the longer the kidnapper continued to talk, the more Spencer was left wondering what the hell any of this had to do with him and the job he was going to do.
"Hold on, just stop for one second." Spencer finally interrupted, unable to hold in his questions any longer. "How exactly does any of this relate to, you know, my… task?"
"Now, Spencer, have a little patience. I was just about to get to that." The kidnapper replied, a teasing tone in his voice that left Spencer gritting his teeth in irritation.
"Your 'task', as you so eloquently put it, is simple. You are to head into the Ferrymen's warehouse, track down and locate Ferdinand Salas, and kill him."
After the kidnapper had spoken, a long, awkward silence soon followed. Only after almost a minute had passed was it finally broken by the near-silent voice of Spencer. "What did you just say you wanted me to do?"
"My god, you really are dumb as bricks. Fine, I'll repeat. So, only five minutes away is an abandoned wareho-."
"Not that!" Spencer cried out, panic rising in his voice. "You want me to kill someone? Me? Are you insane? I've never killed anything bigger than a fucking Spider! I can't! I just can't!"
"Whoa, whoa, Spencer, calm down. Take some deep breaths, man, you sound like you're about to have a panic attack." The kidnapper replied, sounding almost sincere. "Everything's going to be fine. There is already a plan in place, a plan that, as long as you follow it to the letter, will work out perfectly."
"That's not the issue!" Spencer shouted, gripping the wooden box beside him for support as a wave of dizziness washed over him, leaving him feeling faint. "You're asking me to take a life. I can't, I won't! I'm not a killer!"
At that, the kidnapper seemed almost confused. "Well, yeah, but it's not as if he doesn't deserve it. Why else do you think I rattled off all the heinous crimes he's committed? If anything, you're doing the world a favour by getting rid of that scum and any more you take out in the process."
"Besides," He continued, the cheeriness vanishing from his voice, replaced by that same sombre, steely voice from before that reminded Spencer exactly who he was talking to. "It's not like you've got a choice. Not if you don't want me to slice your little girl's neck clean in half. Now you wouldn't want that, would you?"
Spencer was flabbergasted, barely even registering the threat made by the kidnapper as he struggled to process what was being asked of him. He was just a regular guy, a fired mail clerk who hadn't thrown a punch since high school. And yet, he was being ordered to kill one of the most dangerous figures in the entire city, a man who, according to the kidnapper, commanded hundreds of ruthless killers.
'He's fucking crazy! I can't do this. I've never even shot a fucking gun before!' Spencer thought, teetering on the edge of hysteria as he began to pace widely across the factory floor.
However, as time slowly passed, and his panic–while not disappearing–began to soften, Spencer came to a grim realisation: the kidnapper was right. He didn't have a choice. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't think of a way out, not if he wanted to protect his daughter from the dangers of the deranged psychopath on the other end of the line. All he could do was follow orders and hope it was enough. And so, with thoughts of Lily's smiling face, Spencer let out a resigned sigh and steeled his resolve, willing himself to ignore the uneasy flutter in his stomach at what he was about to do.
"Fine. I'll do it."
"Excellent! I just knew you would come around to the idea. Which is good for me as I would hate to have to get my hands dirty."
The sound of grinding teeth echoed throughout the building as Spencer stared daggers at the phone in his hand. His blood boiled at the sheer delight the kidnapper took in manipulating and mocking him. It was then, as thoughts of everything he had put Lily, Gemma and himself through flooded his mind, that Spencer swore he would make the man pay, even if it was the last thing he ever did. Unfortunately, that promise would have to wait, as the kidnapper's next words snapped him back to the present.
"Now then. Here's the plan."