Tim stood in the doorway watching Alex with a blank expression. He didn't remember walking over, he didn't remember knocking, he didn't remember anything before Alex staring at him in disgust and waving him into the house. Before all that he had a vague recollection of chasing someone - or something - and then there was pain and static. That was it. He was still trying to piece these bits together in some way. It wasn't like he didn't have time to. For the past hour or so he had waited impatiently for Alex to finish getting ready. Why he had to pack so many things was beyond him. Already the man had accumulated a couple of bags of equipment and supplies. He wasn't sure how Alex was going to carry all of that, but he knew he sure as hell wasn't playing pack mule for that bastard.

"So, are you going to tell me why you look like crap?"
"Excuse me?" Tim's eyes narrowed.
"You've been staring off into the distance with that dumb spaced-out look in your eyes this entire time." Alex slung on of the bags over his shoulder and turned to face him. "You haven't spoken a word since you showed up either. I expected some witty insults at the very least."
"I'm fine."
"Fine? Fine like you were before Jay went missing?"

Tim had to cross his arms to keep from grabbing Alex again. The tiniest things enraged him when it came to this man. And if he was to be honest, it unsettled him. Maybe he was dangerous. Maybe after they found Jay he should just...He sighed, slumping back against the door frame.

"Don't say it like that. I blacked out last night. I don't remember what happened. I was running for some reason, then I blacked out, and then I was here."
"Were you chasing someone, running from something, running to some place? I need actual details, Tim." He flinched. He'd only ever heard Jay and Jessica say his name. Somehow it sounded unnatural when Alex said it.
"I think I was chasing someone. I don't know, ok? I don't remember."
"What happened? Did you catch up to it? What were you chasing?"
"What part of 'I don't remember' don't you understand?" A puff of steam escaped from his back and that was enough to shut Alex up. Tim shifted uncomfortably. At this point it seemed as if the steam functioned as a safeword of sorts. A sign that it was time for both men to stop talking.
"Here." Alex held out a bag for Tim to take. Reluctantly, he threw it over his shoulder.
"What is all of this anyway?"
"Medical supplies, food, repair parts-"
"Repair parts?"
"Yes, repair parts." Alex shouldered past him (Tim could have sworn that he had made an olympic sport out of trying to get himself killed) and opened the door. "You know, in case you get damaged?"
"Who exactly is going to do the repairs?"
"What the fuck do you think I do for a living?"
"You do repairs?"
"Yes, I do repairs, now are we going to look for Jay today or do you want to sit here and go back and forth until tomorrow?"

"T-Tim?"

Jay's voice didn't carry very far here. Well, wherever 'here' was. It was dark and cold and he could feel damp stone against his bare back. He rubbed his arms and curled his knees up to his chest, wishing desperately that whoever had taken him had left him his sweatshirt.

"T-Tim? Are you there?"

He tried again. But he could almost feel his words falling out of his mouth and straight into his lap. Tentatively reaching out in front of him, he discovered that wherever he was it was a very small space. Jay couldn't even fully extend his arm. He found that the ceiling was only about an inch from his head, as were the walls to his left and right. A sudden feeling of claustrophobia overtook him and he had to shut his eyes and hold his head to stop himself from yelling out.

A long, low creak made him freeze. What he had thought was another wall to his right turned out to be a vault-like door. It opened now, revealing a much wider room with a worn-out bed and a makeshift table. A single candle acted as the only source of illumination. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust.

"Hello?"
"Hello, Jay." The voice that responded sounded as if it was coming from his own head. "Come out. It's safe."
"Who are you? Where am I?"
"In time, Jay. Come out."

Crawling out into the open, he expected to feel a sense of relief. He didn't. The door slammed shut behind him and sank into the wall. At least he thought it did. It must have. It simply wasn't there any more.

The room was a decent size. The bed was no more than an old mattress on a rusted metal frame. A moth-eaten blanket had been tucked under the edges to make it seem a little more homey. The pillows had no cases and were covered in dark reddish-brown stains that Jay refused to even consider as blood stains. The table was just a flat board sitting on top of a pile of wooden crates. A smaller crate acted as a chair of sorts. A full-body mirror was propped up against the wall behind him, the one opposite the bed. Seeing his dirty, disheveled hair and the smudges on his face and neck, Jay cringed. There were dark circles under his eyes.

God, how long have I been in here?

"Are you sure about this?"

Tim was looking up at the massive metal gate separating the Marble district from the Darkened district. It was unguarded, but there didn't seem to be a way to open it from this side. A dim blue-ish light spilled from either side of the gate. Glass containers full of some sort of oil he'd never seen before.

"If I'm right, this is where he'd be."
"How do we get in? I don't suppose it's as simple as knocking?"
"Oh I don't know, Tim, why don't you try and knock?" Alex shot him a dirty look before bending down to pick up a small stone. He threw it against the gate, shielding his eyes from the blinding white flash of light that consumed it. Tim inhaled sharply.
"Oh."
"Yeah. You have to have an invite, really. Or you can bribe your way in."
"How?"
"Blood."
"Excuse me?"
"Blood. You kill someone here and hitch a ride in when management comes."

Tim didn't like how nonchalant Alex sounded. They were talking about taking a human life and he was acting as if this were a completely natural and sensible thing to do. There was no empathy or sadness in his eyes. In fact, he seemed bored by the idea.

"Do you do this a lot?"
"I used to. I used to work pretty high up on the chain. This was my daily commute for seven years."
"How many people have you killed?"
"I lost track."

You lost track. Lovely.