It had been a long night. 

The crowds were dense and loud, the air reeked of stale booze and cheap cigarettes and the harsh neon lights made the stage suffocating. Angel could feel the headache building behind her eyes as she finished her dance and slid down the pole, the thumping base of the music ringing in her ears and all the way to the fillings in her teeth. The DJ had it turned up so high she could barely hear the song itself. Her rhythm had been off all night because of that, nearly falling flat on her ass several times, but judging by her audiences reaction, it must not have been so bad. Men cheered and whistled as she sauntered off the platform, flashing a wink before disappearing backstage. Her muscled ached and her heels were giving her blisters, but with every bill she counted, she felt better and better. 

In a matter of minutes she had changed into jeans and a t-shirt and washed her face,  enjoying how light she felt without the running layers of foundation, blush and sweat. She cringed when she saw her dark roots beginning to show under her bleached hair and huffed at the thought of how long it would take to touch it up. Even worse were the darker circles under her eyes that she had gotten from endless hours of playing Candy Crush on her phone instead of getting the sleep she desperately needed. Hopefully she could grab a quick power nap on the bus ride home. 

The best part of her shift was that she usually had the dressing room to herself, giving her a few minutes to clear her head, breathing in the calming scent of cinnamon candles and hair spray. As much as she liked her friends, the little time she had to herself was sacred. Despite the music still softly reverberating in the background, this was the only real quiet she could get anymore. It was either the blaring music, the drunken cheers of the audience, or the grating sounds of traffic and construction near her home. It would only last so long before the others came back, but she savored it all the same. 

Haphazardly she shoved her cash in an envelope and into her bag as she made her way to the door, nearly bumping into another dancer, Lizzy.

“Hey Angel,” Lizzy said, stepping aside to let her out. “Do you wanna hang around for a bit. Coco and Ruby should be done in about half an hour; we’re gonna grab some breakfast after.” 

“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass this time,” Angel said, ignoring how loudly her stomach growled at the mention of food. “Sorry! Next time though, I promise.” 

She really was sorry. Normally she’d jump at the chance to join her friends in one of her favorite activities; eating. Angel had started working at the club soon after she had stepped off the boat from Russia four years ago. She was only seventeen then, but she became fast friends with her fellow dancers. They always looked out for her and made her feel welcome, but despite how hungry she was, a shower and a nap was a much more enticing offer. 

“Uh huh..” Lizzy eyed her skeptically, pausing on her face. “Ha! How much sleep did you get last night?” 

Angel shrugged, genuinely unsure. She had stopped keeping track of her sleep/wake cycle a long time ago. No point in doing so if it kept changing. 

“Not enough.” 

“That’s gonna ruin your skin.” 

Angel rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless as she said her goodbyes. 

She turned on her heels and went straight for the exit before she could be stopped again. The sun had just barely began to rise, setting a calm and nearly quiet air as the day began. Even the normally crowded streets of New York felt fresh and clean with the smell of heavy rainfall from the night before. For several long moments Angel walked in peace to the bus stop and listened to the sound of her heels clicking against the wet concrete, mixing with the ambient shuffling as shops and cafes beginning to open. 

But just as she had the bus stop in her sights, her nearly perfect morning was blown to pieces as a disheveled man came bursting out in front of her, nearly knocking her off her feet as she ducked out of the way. He stumbled to the ground and before he could regain his footing, two more guys ran out and began beating him back down.

Angel stood back, taking in the scene before her with distaste. It was none of her business and she knew better than to get involved, but it was like watching a train wreck. Neither of the two thugs could have been much older than her, the hoods of their sweatshirts up and sanitary masks covering their faces kept her from getting a better look. Some skinny try-hard with tattoos on his knuckles and nervous looking giant of a man who kept looking over his shoulder. 

Both were shouting something, but she couldn’t understand a word of it with how fast they were talking over each other, one with a thick slavic accent she couldn’t quite place yet. And in spite of the violent display she was witnessing, they weren’t all that scary. Even their victim, who had started to fight back his way back to his feet, looked more annoyed than afraid. Their kicks were poorly aimed, missing his stomach and face entirely. Not even getting his spine. He was going to be sore for sure, but nothing major. They were totally out of sync and they were nearly knocking each other over as several hits missed their mark completely. 

Angel could feel the second hand embarrassment setting in the longer she watched. She’d been in her fair share of fights, but they had gone much faster and much cleaner than whatever this was. As she debated whether she should wait until they were finished or just try to walk around them, two police officers ran up from the other side of the street. 

“Freeze! Get off of him!” they shouted, drawing the thugs attention away from the man. 

With the situation being handled, Angel tried to move, but the opportunity was snatched away as Try-Hard grabbed her and yanked her in front of himself. 

“Let go asshole!” she snarled and twisted in his grip, but just as she broke free he grabbed hold of her hair and she felt the cold barrel of a gun press up against her jaw. 

The officers froze and the beaten man scurried behind them. 

“Back off or I blow her brains out!” Try-Hard shouted, keeping his head down behind her. 

“Are you nuts?” Giant hissed, frantically looking back and forth between his friend and the officers, ignoring their pleas to take it easy and calm down. 

“Shut up!” 

As the officers tried to placate them, not wanting to make any sudden moves that would put Angel in danger, Try-Hard backed up to the corner of the street, pulling her along with them. She kept up her struggle but didn’t dare move too much. Even if he was bluffing, his hand was shaking on the trigger.

“Stay away and no one gets hurt. And you,” he nodded to the man, “Deliver today. Don’t make us come lookin’ for you again.” 

The man’s glare never faltered and the officers didn’t make a move, disappearing out of sight as they rounded the corner. 

Angel resumed her struggles in full swing as they ran to a rusted old car, thinking they would let her go once they were in the clear. To her disappointment, though not her surprise, none of the officers had made to chase after them. At this time of day, the police in that area were more accustomed to dealing with parking tickets and drunken disorderlies. It was too early for armed assault and a hostage situation. To her further dismay, Try-Hard didn’t loosen his grip at all and threw her into the back seat of the car, climbing in with her. 

“What the hell are you doing?” she shrieked, “Let me go!” 

But her protests went ignored as Giant jumped in and started the car,  peeling away from the curb and rocketing down the street. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Let me out of here!” 

The door wasn’t unlocking and she resorted to pounding against the window.

“Knock it off!” Try-Hard snapped. 

He cursed and spat as he kept checking out the back windshield until he was sure they weren’t being followed. 

“God dammit! God dammit! God dammit!” 

Angel was unamused with his little tantrum, which was quickly becoming more irritating that intimidating. Giant was trying to focus over his friend’s ramblings, muttering in what Angel finally recognized as Ukrainian. He wasn’t the best driver and her stomach churned with every sharp turn and jerk. She couldn’t remember if her taser was in her bag, but as she thought that, Try-Hard took her bag and tossed it up front. 

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“Son of a bitch,” she grumbled under her breath, scowling at him. 

“Where are we going?” Giant asked.

“I don’t- just- home! Take us home!” Try-Hard said, disregarding the worried and guilty glances Giant was giving them in the rear view mirror. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Did I stutter? Take us home.”

“What about her?” 

“Just drive!” 

“Would it kill you to say please?” Angel sighed. 

Badgering her kidnappers wasn’t the smartest move, but she didn’t appreciate the unnecessary aggression on top of everything else. It was another bad habit of hers, but even in her current predicament, she couldn’t resist poking the bear. Maybe it was a nervous reaction. Exhausted, sore and more than a little car sick, she was done. Let them shoot her and put her out of her misery. 

Both men were silent until Giant let out a barely concealed snort that he tried to brush off as a cough. 

“Yeah, Beau. Would it?” he asked, his face turning red as he tried harder and harder not to laugh. 

Angel grinned, she had a name now. 

“Don’t make my shoot your fuckin’ head,” he growled, glaring hard at Angel as he held the gun to her face. 

“I almost wish you would. It’d be better than the migraine you’re giving me,” Angel sassed before she could stop herself, consequences be damned. 

Another round of coughs came from the front as Beau grumbled and cursed more as he pushed the gun harder against her jaw. 

Well, this was it. This was how she was going to die. Mouthing off in the back of some thug’s busted up station-wagon. Not exactly how she pictured her final moments. What upset her more was having to admit that her mother was right all those times she told her that her mouth would get her in trouble one day. That hurt way worse than a bullet to the brain. 

The car slammed to a halt as they pulled up in a small lot behind crumbling apartment building. Every window was cracked and barred, with the exception of those holding small air conditioning units. For a moment Angel thought they had brought her back to her own apartment, but if she was being honest, this dump may have been nicer. 

Unceremoniously she was dragged out of the car, into the decaying building and up creaking stairs to a trashed two bedroom flat on the second floor. The place was littered with trash and dirty clothes, reminding her of her brothers room when they were growing up. Inside a wide brass plated vent by the front door, Angel saw a few poorly hidden bags of white powder, which didn’t surprise her at all. 

Beau finally released her so he could lock the door while Giant checked out the window, leaving her to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“Are you sure we weren’t followed?” Giant asked, nervously biting the nail of his ring finger.

“I didn’t see nobody,” Beau grumbled as he paced the living room, kicking trash out of his way. 

Angel coughed, calling back their attention. 

“Look,” she said, “this is none of my business, I’m not pressing charges or anything, so can I go now? I’ve gotta get home and feed my fish.” 

“Nice try lady. You ain’t goin’ anywhere.” 

It was worth a shot. 

“What are we supposed to do with her then?” Giant snapped. His voice was so soft, but a shaky edge was cutting through. 

“Gimme a minute.”

Beau ran his hand through his crazy mop of hair. Angel knew what high looked like, she’d seen it nearly every day since she started middle school, but this wasn’t it. She could tell these nut jobs weren’t snorting any of that powder; they were just shaken up, ill-experienced idiots. 

“This is all pretty new for you guys, huh?” she asked, slouching up against the wall near the open kitchen. “That guy owe you money or something?”

“Lady, do you ever shut up?”

Angel thought for a second and shrugged.

“Guess not.” 

If she was really going out, she’d die as she lived. Running her mouth.

Beau groaned emphatically, nearly pulling his hair out and stomped into the bedroom. Giant was still too close for her to make a break for it. Angel was strong, stronger than most would give her credit for, and while she could take Beau in a fair fight, she wasn’t foolish enough to try her luck against Giant, who stood a foot taller than her. 

The gun was the real problem. Fighting her way out meant nothing if she couldn’t outrun a bullet. Given how lackluster their “attack” had been earlier, she didn’t think they had it in them to kill her. Still, with how skittish they were now, it was a hefty risk. Not to mention they had her bag and she wasn’t going anywhere without it. 

After some loud rummaging around in the bedroom, Beau returned with a pair of handcuffs. 

“Whoa, shouldn’t we pick a safe word first?” Angel laughed, completely abandoning her internal a censor. 

Go big or go home, she thought. 

Beau looked like he was really going to hit her this time, but instead he aimed his gun at her once again and nodded to an open door, leading to the bathroom. 

“In there,” he ordered, “now.”

Angel sighed, but sulked into the bathroom which was, mercifully, much cleaner than the rest of the place. She just wanted to get some rest and even the cracked tile floor looked inviting. 

“You can’t be serious,” Giant said as Beau pushed Angel down in front of the sink. 

“I’m outta ideas and we need to get movin’.” 

Beau slapped one cuff on over Angel’s wrist and the other around the rusty pipe connecting the sink to the wall, forcing her to sit up against the porcelain throne. 

“She’s got the toilet and water, she’ll be fine.”

“Gee, you guys sure know how to treat a lady,” Angel drawled and slipped her shoes off, rubbing the stiffness out of her feet. 

Beau ignored her for once and walked back out. 

“Let’s go. We’ve wasted enough time.”

Angel slumped and flipped him the bird as he went. These guys had to be the most incompetent, scatter brained, sorry excuses for punks she’d ever had the misfortune of meeting and she was beyond pissed off at herself for getting caught by them in the first place. She heard them shuffling around for a few minutes before the front door opened back up. Giant ducked back into the bathroom one more time and tossed her a can of soda. 

“Sorry, really sorry,” he said quickly and shut the door to follow his friend. 

“Dima, move your ass! Let’s go!” 

Angel smiled in spite of herself and opened the can. Dima, was it? That one was kind of sweet and it was almost cute. If she hadn’t seen him trying to beat the snot out of that man with her own eyes, she never would have taken him for a hood. 

She waited for a few minutes after she heard the front door slam shut and got to work. She’d dabbled in handcuffs before, strictly professional of course, and these were a lot cheaper than the ones they used at the club. She tugged hard a few times, but it seemed as though the pipe would break before the chain would. Careful not to jostle and tighten them, she stood as far as the cuffs would let her and nearly cheered when she saw a half full bottle of soap on the sink. Relieved at the thought that the people who had been manhandling her used soap, she snatched it up and emptied it over her wrist. The cuff wasn’t on that tight and with a few good twists and pulls, she slid right out. 

“Yes!” she laughed and shook out the soreness in her hand, glad the metal hadn’t cut her fingers. After stretching and rising the soap off, Angel picked up her shoes and her drink and went back out to the living room.

As tempting as it was to walk right out the door and be on her way, she couldn’t. Not yet.  

Luckily, they had brought her bag up. Sat on the kitchen counter, it was toppled over with her keys, lipstick and charger spilling out. She looked through it and found her wallet was still there, but her cash from work and her phone were missing. The money was bad enough, but her phone was irreplaceable. It was an addiction she wasn’t particularly proud of and she could only hope that those idiots weren’t out there pawning it. 

She took a quick look at that air vent by the door and she could see that some of those white bags were gone. Slowly, she took a deep breath and counted to ten. She was going to be there for a while. Might as well get comfortable. 

Clumsily, she slipped her contact lenses out of her eyes, returning vibrant blue back to their natural soft brown, trading them for red, jeweled, cat-eye framed glasses. She’d been wearing contacts for over two years and she still couldn’t get used to them, but they went well with her bottle blonde hair and it was far better than her glasses falling off during every dance. Next were some bandaids over the blisters on her heels as she regretted not bringing a change of shoes with her that day. It would have preferable to walking barefoot on a floor that looked as if it had never seen a broom or bleach. 

Her stomach growling fiercely, a sharp reminder to kick herself for passing up on breakfast with her friends. This whole damn mess could have been avoided if she had just sucked it up and gone out with them in the first place. 

No. This was not the time. She could wallow in regret later. Back to the matter at hand.

The kitchen was just as much of a disaster as the rest of the place. Empty take out containers were over flowing out of the trash can and it didn’t look like they owned a single dish or utensil if the bare sink and cupboards were anything to go by. Then again, she couldn’t cook either, so she wasn’t in any position to judge. Raiding the pantry and fridge yielded few results, but she happily settled on an almost empty bag of cheddar potato chips and a half full jar of pickles. 

As she ate, she took a moment to explore her captors home. Minimal furniture in both of the bedrooms, only a plain, small bed in both and more clothes strewn about anywhere but the closet. The living room had a couch, a recliner, and rickety folding chair that looked like it once belonged to an outdoor patio set. The only table they had was a coffee table that was nothing more than a plank of wood laid out over a couple of milk crates. Pretty spartan, but no less cluttered than her own flat. 

Moving onto something much more interesting, Angel went back to the rusted vent, now sitting slightly askew, and took out one of the remaining bags. It was a foolish thing to try, but Angel wanted to know what kind of poison they were peddling. Careful not to inhale anything, she opened the bag and dipped her finger inside, scraping a little bit under her manicured nail. She brushed it against her tongue, waited, and felt nothing. Not even a tingle. It almost made her laugh. No one in their right mind would pay good money for this crap. They may as well have been selling powdered sugar. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise her if that’s what those shysters were cutting it with. 

Angel ventured further inside and hit the goldmine when she felt her fingers brush against the textured grip of a handgun. A Beretta 92FS and a box of bullets.

Fond memories flashed before her eyes as she examined the gun, gauging its weight and loading the rounds, the nostalgic smell of gun oil bringing her back to the past. To late summer afternoons spent sneaking off with her friends to the woods behind their neighborhood, their fathers’ pistols and rifles in hand to shoot cans and empty bottles. It had been years and she had always been better with rifles, but this would do just fine. 

Now all she had to do was wait. She finished off the soda and chips and went to sit on the couch. The material was thin, the cushions were lumpy, and the thought of stray hidden needles crossed her mind, but it was still more comfortable than the bathroom floor or the plastic seats of the bus. There was no telling when the guys would be back and she needed to be on her guard, but all of the adrenaline from her abduction was finally crashing and pulling her down fast. Her headache came back with a vengeance and the junk food breakfast wasn’t sitting right in her gut. Maybe she could rest her eyes. Just for a few minutes.