For a few days, I’d forgotten about the severe decay of Maverick's current neighbourhood. With the rows of abandoned houses, broken glass on the footpath boarded windows and other junk, it was surprising that you could even find this street on a standard GPS.

As we walked through the night-time street, it seemed as though danger whispered at us, lurking within the forgotten houses that had been left to waste.

Surprisingly, the regular chatter from the many squatters inside Maverick's run-down apartment was silent. It was deafeningly quiet. Still, a dim yellow lightbulb was turned on, signalling the presence of one of the occupants.

We moved down the side driveway and were quite surprised by what we saw. A Clean Dodge Viper was parked under its cover. The same cover where my vehicle had been stolen. Maverick stopped to acknowledge the vehicle's presence.

“That’s the landlord,” he said, frozen.

“Landlord? I thought you guys were squatting?” I replied, looking around.

“Nah. This guy has been hiding us from trouble. Diane must have forgotten to pay rent.” replied Maverick, moving along towards the security-locked back door.

I stood behind him as Mav unlocked his entrance “Stay down here. I’ll see what his problem is,” he stated, as he moved inside.

“What do you mean?” I asked, as my pulse began to rise.

“Just stay here,” He repeated, as he attempted to close the door behind himself and move upstairs. I slipped my foot between the door and the doorframe, leaving it ajar.

Maverick moved upstairs in a slow creeping manner, so as not to sound the creaky floorboards. Once he’d rounded the corner, I moved inside and shut the door behind me.

I crept to the lower part of the wrap-around staircase and stayed where I was. While Mav moved to the second story and knocked on his door.

“Open up, it’s me,” Maverick called out, from outside the apartment door.

I heard the entrance open and a heavy threat grabbed Mav and swept him inside the apartment, the door slamming closed behind him. Not so much as a struggle.

I hurried up the staircase and stood behind the door. I listened closely and heard a circle of voices taunting Maverick, as he sat a prisoner amongst them.

The voices were muffled and I could barely hear a word at first. But soon they grew louder and I could hear them perfectly.

“It’s not fair, man! It’s not fair!” I heard Maverick stammer.

“You knew what I needed and you couldn’t deliver,” replied a rodent-like voice.

My heart began banging inside my ears, as my fingertips trembled against the door handle.

“C'mon, man, just give me another chance! I won’t need long!” replied Mav, in a frantic short breath.

I battled my mind internally. As to what my best course of action was. But my thoughts were clouded.

“I needed five cars a week, I said I didn’t care how you got them. If you’re going to be carjacking the customers that come over here they aren’t going to be coming back for more!” the Rodent slurred.

“I got you four, man, just let me get you another one tonight! I’ve been busy! There’s no need to act this way!” pleaded Maverick.

It suddenly hit me. This place was no ordinary trap house. They’d been stealing visitors' cars. Perhaps even my car. Well, maybe not him. But he had a hand in it. Then it all came crashing down around me, what all our yarns meant over the last few days. What the trip to find my car meant.

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Had any of what he said meant anything? Was any of it real? I suppose an addict is an addict, and you can’t trust a word they say.

The rodent man let out a distasteful cry of anger, “I’m over this piece of shit aye. I gave you a place to hide, you don’t wanna hold up your end of the bargain? Rocky, take this motherfucker's eyes.”

It was at this moment I made a split-second decision that would either save both of our lives or end them collectively. I forced my shoulder into the door and broke it off its hinge. I fell into a mess on the floor and looked up as the fist of a goon grabbed for my collar.

He stuck me to the wallpaper with a loud thud, his other arm grabbing at my mop of hair. The goon's arms were scarred and tatted, his eyes cloaked beneath some thick-framed black sunglasses.

I struggled against his might, as I looked around the room, I found that Maverick was bound to a wooden chair. Another large goon wielding a large knife.

A scrawny pale weasel with a hooked nose and bad skin ate from a bag of hot chips. “Who are you?” he asked me.

I paused and panted and struggled as the goon held my head firm In place, my legs kicking against the wall.

“You just made a big mistake, showing your face.” The weasel added.

“Big mistake.” repeated the knife-wielding goon.

The weasel chomped back another helping of his snack and licked the salt off of his fingertips.

“Well…there’s only one thing we can do about that…” the Weasel started.

A droplet of my forehead sweat streamed down to my chin.

“Take his eyes Tua.” the weasel ordered.

The goon, presumably named Tua made his way towards me, his sharp blade gleaming in the dimly lit room. He raised the knife towards my eyes. Its sharp tip was an inch from my sockets.

“No! No! Look! I can get you a car! 80 grand!!” I wailed.

The weasel made a sigh of amusement, “Now we’re talking. Stop for a minute, please, Tua…you can get me a car worth 80 grand?” asked the weasel, lowering his bag of chips.

“Yeah…I know a guy with a 2020 Nissan Navara and a 96 Toyota Supra. He’s my old boss, I know where he keeps his garage keys.” I pleaded.

“Hm.” The weasel noted, tipping his bag of chips up and eating the last crumbs, “What’s the address?” he asked me.

“I won’t tell you until that guy puts the knife away. I can’t even think!” I replied, my eyes pressed shut.

“Yeah, yeah, alright. Tua, lower that thing please.” the weasel ordered.

I quickly caught my breath as shock and adrenaline began to overcome me. I gasped in a frenzy like a fish out of water. And in many ways I was.

“I’ll give you directions to the house. Mav and I will go inside, we’ll grab the cars and drive them back here. Just leave us alone, we want out.” I pleaded.

The weasel laughed, “Oh! You want out? I don’t know if you know your friend here–“

“–He’s my brother.” I corrected him.

“Shit? True? That’s a bit of a plot twist, isn’t it? How about we work from the ground up, I’ll tell you how this is going to go down,” The weasel began, as he moved over to the kitchen table and began making a sandwich with the apartment's pantry supplies.

“First of all, my two friends here will take you to the house, they’ll come with you into the house, and once we get the car; one will go with you and the other with Maverick.” the Weasel finished, as he began to chomp into his Marmite and chips sandwich.

“Yeah, that’ll work.” I agreed, my breath still shallow.

“Good man. Alright Rocky, let him down.” the weasel ordered.

The goon presumably named Rocky, dropped me to the floor, shoved me against the wall, and cable-tied my hands together, grabbing my bound arms in a cuff.

“Alright boys, I’ll say this is farewell for now. Rocky, Tua, same as usual. Once this is all over take 'em over across desert road and tell ‘em to march until sunrise and never come back. Good?” The weasel stated.

“Yeah, boss,” said Tua.

“Yeah, Mate.” agreed Rocky.

“You’re a lucky man, Maverick. Very, very Stupid. But you’re lucky. Your brother loves you Maverick, don’t let any of us down. This is your last chance.” the weasel finished.

Tua cut Mav from his chair and began dragging him along through the door. Rocky dragged me after him.

We were dragged out through the front door and shoved into the back of a van painted black and dark green, its windows tinted illegally dark.

Mav and I were buckled into a seat each, beside each other. Rocky sat in the back with us, a black handgun resting on his lap as he watched us carefully.

Tua slipped into the driver's seat.

“Give us the address,” asked Rocky, directly and firmly.

My sweat wet my brow, as my mind chattered, “I’ll give you directions.” I replied, mustering up as much courage as I could.

“You can give us the address now, or I could just kill you both and say to the boss you tried to escape. It’s up to you.” Rocky stated, his expression barely changing.

“Alright, alright. But my boss has a decent security system, so without us, you two aren’t getting in—“

“Just shut up and spell it. I’m not in the mood.” Rocky spat, clearing his throat.

I conceded and gave them the address. Tua then punched it into his GPS.

“All good?” Rocky asked Tua.

“Yeah mate, All good,” Tua replied.

The weasel's Dodge Viper roared as it drifted out of the driveway, his dark silhouette gave Tua a two-fingered salute.

Tua stretched his hand out in farewell, before engaging the engine, and pulling off onto the night road, headed for the north shore.

I felt my stomach turn as the proceeding moments wherein I would soon be forced to steal two vehicles alongside Mav and risk paying the price of a stint in prison.

Or even worse would be if the two goons decided to shoot us both in the back of the head deep in the rough terrain of the desert road.

I rubbed my sweaty hands together in an attempt to dry them. But it didn’t do much. It seemed that wherever our fates lay, it wouldn’t hardly be a good one. And whatever that fate was, rested in the palms of Rocky and Tua, as they held us on their cable-tied short leash.