The abandoned building was mostly just that— abandoned.
Mostly, that is.
“Hey,” a disembodied voice called out, echoing a bit in the quiet of the dilapidated building’s skeletal remains. “Who’re you supposed to be?”
It turns out the voice wasn’t disembodied at all. Above Beck, a head of curly blond hair peered down at him through a rotted hole in the floor above him, through the crumbling boards and deteriorating support beams. Though the stranger’s face was encased in shadows cast by the broken ceiling above them, their voice was young— maybe late teens, early twenties, male— and scratchy.
“You don’t look like you should be here.”
