PREY, loki laufeyson

II

Knock. Pause. Knock, knock —click.

The door to the safe house creaks open, screaming to life as it moves through the air to reveal a dimly lit room. In it, there's a small kitchenette in the far left corner with fairly decent-looking appliances. A fridge, a stove, a sink that isn't covered in blood. In comparison to some of the other places Avis has stayed in, it looks like a domestic haven, with its full table dining set and plush couch. It makes her sigh with contentment as she steps further in, examining the stove with greater detail, noticing it's gas rather than electric.

Just like home.

"Took you long enough, Ghosty."

Immediately, her eyes dart to the right and narrow, focusing on the voice that breaks through the darkness. Somehow it sounds familiar —deep and scratchy and overly sarcastic in a way that both makes her blood boil and her heart melt. A voice she hasn't heard in ages.

"Lane?"

"In the flesh."

Out of habit, she reaches for her gun, placing a heavy hand on the grip, watching as Isaac Lane steps out to greet her. Across his face, he's got a big shit-eating grin. The kind he used to give her whenever she'd lose one of their never-ending arguments. That one where the edges of his lips are turned to the sky, revealing that one crooked canine on the left side, causing Avis to let out a nervous breath, realizing that it's him. And that he's here, standing in front of her, holding his hands out into the open air to signal he's unarmed.

"Miss me?"

With his hands still raised, he takes another step closer, making her twitch. "Course not."

"Bit rude to admit, but I'll take it considering the obvious."

"The obvious?"

"You're reaching for your gun, are you not?"

Suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed, Avis releases the weapon but keeps her hand behind her. "Sorry if seeing you here doesn't make me feel very fucking safe."

"I didn't realize my presence would make you so uncomfortable."

There's a hint of... something in his words. Smugness? Flirtation? Either way, instead of condoning it Avis instantly shuts it down with an eye-roll as she brushes past him and sets her things on the kitchen table. "Why are you here, anyway? What happened to Mags?"

"Mags?"

"My contact." Angrily, she speaks through her teeth, a wave of stress rushing through as she tries to imagine the events that led to Lane's appearance. Did Mags reach out to them or was it the other way around? And if it was, is she safe? Dead? Merely incarcerated?

Avis isn't sure. All she knows is that something wrong had happened, otherwise, Mags (the handler she'd been working with over the last three months) would've been here instead, sitting at the table with her usual cup of coffee and folder filled with information on her next target.

"Oh, uh, right, she's gone."

"Gone? What do you mean?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Lane strolls towards Avis's stuff, moving his hands to examine their exteriors before unzipping the largest duffle. Inside, all of Abner's body sits, carefully tied in black plastic bags for safekeeping. "I assume this is—"

Before Lane can even finish his sentence Avis has her gun to his head. Angrily, it's pressed against his temple, the cold steel of the barrel contrasting the sudden heat of his face as his eyes turn to face her.

"Still quick on the draw, I see," he laughs.

"What do you want, Isaac?"

Quietly, he clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. "Oh, first name basis, am I in trouble?"