Falling for the Predator

Christmas Special: Chapter 6- Meet A

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Mike POV:

The door slammed shut behind me, the rusty hinges doing nothing to prop the door open. I was plunged into near pitch black darkness, the few dingy, flickering lights inside providing the only light source, casting everything in a dark haze.

I cringed my nose as the smell of urine, stale beer and human sweat assaulted my face, making my eyes water. This place was truly disgusting.

Ahead of me was the first of many staircases that led to more desolate, reeking corridors. A combination of the address on the papers I had, and the map of Rueford Court on a dirty plastic board by the entrance, smeared with God knows what, told me that my room, Room 101, was on the 4th floor. I eyed the two elevators. One was sealed shut with old, tattered police tape and the other lay open, waiting, like the world's filthiest coffin. I think I'll pass.

I clambered up the first flight of stairs, before a small but strong hand gripped my shoulder. I turned around, instantly in fight mode, expecting a guy, or more, but it was a woman. I was surprised at first, until I glanced down and saw what she was wearing; or rather, what she wasn't. I looked at her face and it said it all. Heavily caked in makeup, stumbling slightly in her 6 inch thick black stilettos, she wore nothing but an extremely revealing belly top (practically a bra, really) that barely hid her rather large breasts, and a hot pink vinyl mini skirt, showing off a nice bum and a great pair of long legsm She was a prostitute, and a pretty one at that. Her face didn't even need the makeup. She winked at me, and in a husky voice, muttered, "Well looky here, we got ourselves a new boy on the block." She shifted towards me, arching her hips while doing so. She rested her perfectly manicured hand on my stubbly cheek. "Does the new boy want some fun?" I stayed silent.

It probably would've worked on alot of men, but I'd seen this all before, and it lost most of its charm after the 10th time, let alone the hundredth, believe me. I firmly moved her hand and body away from mine, staring her down, letting her know I wasn't interested. As soon as she saw she wasn't going to get any money outta me, she smirked wryly and started to walk off. "Wait til Chazza hears about you", she remarked, disappearing from my sight down the stairs I just climbed. I sighed and continued climbing the stairs. Great, just what I needed, some 'Chazza' pimp on my back, on my first day too!

I reached the 4th floor after a few minutes. It looked no different to the few floors I had seen below. There was rubbish littering the floor, a foul smell lingering in the air, and a sense of uneasiness protruding from every corner. I cautiously made my way down the corridor, to the worn down door that read, '101' in discoloured, wrangled metal. I cautiously opened the entrance to my new room, and what met me was utterly disgusting, but unshocking, considering the state of the surrounding estate. The door led into a small narrow corridor, splitting off into three directions at the end. The door in the middle lay open, revealing an empty, dusty living room with a dirty sheet over what looked like a mattress. The walls were thickly layered with stains, mould and damp. This place would need alot of work, I grimly thought to myself.

To the right was an ajar door, and there appeared to be flickers of light and small noises coming from the room inside. I slunk down slightly, going into my combat mode. I'd had my fair share of fights and ambushes in my days, and judging by the exterior of this place, I wouldn't be surprised by anything here. I approached the door slowly, making sure to make as little noise as possible. I could see the outline more clearly now, as I arrived at the ajar door and peeked through. The seated person seemed quite slight and small. Their thin arm reached out to grab something, and I heard a small click that I instantly recognised from my criminal days with Brett and Ray; the sound of a gun's safety being switched off. I quickly made out the outline of the item to be that of a Glock pistol; standard military issue in the British forces. And it was loaded.