A warehouse? Thought Maggie. What kind of weirdo lives in a warehouse? Maggie had received the call not half an hour ago. Had she envisioned the derelict state of the address she had been summoned to she probably wouldn't have come. Still she was here now and she'd be damned if she was going to waste her precious time by turning tail now.
The alley she'd just turned into was damp and smelled like wet socks, left too long between washer and drier. It was dark too. Of course it's dark she mused it was nearly midnight. She felt like a call girl in this horrid bleak place. I bet the cab driver thought I was a hooker she thought to herself.
To make matters even worse Maggie was lost. The directions, which had seemed so simple on the phone, just didn't seem to translate to the place in which she now stood. She rounded the block again and began her third circuit, when finally she saw the door.
A single buzzer, the colour of nicotine, adorned the steel door and without hesitation the young girl pressed it hard. It made a slight moaning sound like a creaky door in an old house and trembled slightly under her finger.
"Hello?" Said the voice from the phonecall.
"Hi its Maggie from the agency, you called earlier?" She replied into the rusty intercom.
"Yes! Yes! Come in, Come in," The little box blurted.
A split second later the sound of deadbolts being thrown heralded the opening of the steel door.
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