Her neighborhood isn't the best, and it never has been. Even as a kid, she lived just a few blocks away. She never really made it out of this neighborhood. When she was eleven, some junkie tried to mug her on her way to school. But since he wasn't interested in school supplies or her lunch, there was nothing worth taking. He left as quickly as he had appeared, but not before stabbing her in the stomach with a small knife and leaving her to bleed out on the sidewalk.
Her parents called the police back then, but they didn't help much. They said they would do their best to find the guy, but nowadays, she is convinced they never actually tried. That experience taught her one thing: in this part of the city, you look out for yourself. These days, a guy like that couldn't touch her. If some junkie pulled a knife on her now, he would have a few extra holes in his body a moment later.
As she walks through the streets of her neighborhood, thinking about the past, her hands are stuffed in her pockets. With her right, her dominant hand, she toys with the grip of her weapon. A .45 caliber Tidal pistol. Semi-automatic, reliable, affordable. At least it was when she got it. They don't make the Tidal anymore. There are newer, probably better, and definitely more expensive models now. But she is satisfied with her old iron.
The streets are busy, as always. Every few steps, she has to dodge out of the way to avoid bumping into someone. She knows full well that even something like that can get ugly real quick, especially if you run into the wrong person. Some people are just looking for an excuse to snap.
Thankfully, her destination isn't far. Mila lives in a better area: bigger buildings, cleaner streets, and lower crime rates. It's still far from pretty, but definitely better. Mila's apartment is in the second tallest skyscraper in the area: the "Needle". The building lives up to its name. Tall, narrow, tapering like a needle. Next to the entrance is a touchscreen display where you can ring the bell or unlock the door.
Valerie doesn't like walking into Mila's apartment unannounced, so she tries ringing first. But nothing happens. Not after the first ring, and not after the second. With a shrug, she decides to let herself in and presses her finger to the designated panel on the screen. A second later, a confirming beep sounds and the glass sliding doors open.
Inside, the elevator is automatically called as soon as the door opens. Even before she enters the building, the elevator doors slide open. Convenient, especially since the building doesn't have stairs. Everyone has to use the elevator. As expected, the ride is filled with advertisements. The only difference is the content of these advertisements. They are of slightly higher quality and for higher quality products. The ascent itself is smooth and fast, the elevator's low hum barely noticeable.
After a few seconds, the doors open, and she steps out into a hallway. The lighting is warm, the floor carpeted thick enough to muffle her steps. She stops at Mila's door. There is a small fingerprint scanner on the handle. She presses her finger to it, and a second later, the door unlocks.
It is dark and quiet inside the apartment. At first glance, everything seems normal until Valerie notices something: the jacket Mila wore yesterday isn't hanging on the coat rack.
"Mila?" Valerie asks softly. She had meant to call out, but the thought of waking Mila up holds her back. Instead, she heads into the living room, places the necklace on the table, and looks around. To her right is a hallway that connects to the bathroom and kitchen, and to her left is a hallway connecting to the bedroom and a storage closet. Nothing unusual at first until she realizes the bedroom door at the end of the hallway is open.
'Who the hell sleeps with their door open?' She thinks to herself as she walks toward it. A quick glance into the dark room is enough for her to see that Mila's bed is empty. "Hello? Mila?" she calls out this time. No response.
Immediately, she tries calling her. A short mental command, and the call is placed. It rings, but there is no answer. After around twenty seconds, the voicemail picks up. Valerie hangs up without leaving a message. 'Fuck.' Valerie runs to the door and exits the apartment. 'Fuck, where is she?' She thinks, sprinting toward the elevator.
Once outside, she starts walking. She knows the route Mila usually takes to get home. Safer, but longer, unlike Valerie's own shortcuts. Mila is smart like that. Valerie follows that route now, hoping to spot something, anything unusual. Fifteen minutes later, she finds herself back in front of her building. Nothing.
'Goddammit.' She dials someone she knows has deep connections with local gangs and low level criminals. Eddy. His last name is unknown to her, and for all she knows he doesn't have one. She has done a couple of jobs for him before. Some debt collecting, theft, hits on people and some bodyguard jobs.
The call barely rings once before he picks up. "Well, if it isn't my lovely Valerie. Hello hello." His voice sounds as greasy as ever. "Hey Eddy, I need a favor. I'm looking for someone." She starts heading back toward Mila's apartment as they talk.
"Oho, you need my help for once? Who's the lucky someone?" Eddy has always been easy to deal with. No small talk, just business. "Name's Mila Crell. Around my age, a bit shorter, shoulder length black hair, bright blue eyes, glasses, and a butterfly tattoo on her neck just under the left ear." She has never been good at describing people, but she hopes it is enough.
"Interesting. You sure she's gone missing? Might just be avoiding you or something." She shakes her head as if he could see her. "Nah, she went home last night, but I highly doubt she ever got there. Doesn't answer calls or messages either."
She hears Eddy sigh. "You really gotta stop chasing every girl you sleep with." She rolls her eyes. "Shut up, Eddy. She's a friend. We didn't fuck. And even if we had, none of your business. Just tell me if you'll help. I can send you a picture of her and payment right now."
There is a moment of silence before Eddy replies, "Sure. Don't need your money, though. But I do need your services. I'll send you the details for a job and start asking around while you take care of that. Bye." Before she can respond, he has already hung up. She would have said yes anyway, so she doesn't mind.