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"You know you can always call me if you need the help, Sam."
His eyes slides over the too dirty floor, carpet stained many times over, to the door leading to the bedroom. It was slightly ajar and he strains his ears to hear anything beside the static voice of Ponk, but no sounds came from the room before the voicemail started over.
"I know we ended on a bad foot last time we talked but- look, I'm just worried, okay? Got the news of you getting kicked out of the old place and with that kid you have? No one is gonna wanna hire you. I can get you a job within the Pire-"
Sam clenches his fists as Ponk sighs on the recording, the words reminding him of the run down apartment he was at least able to secure. He hated that Ponk knew this. He hated that people would look down at him.
"The job won't be easy, but it's better than letting yourself starve, right? And- and if you join, I can help out. Promise. Sam-"
He hated that he needed that job.
"You know you can always call me if you need the help, Sam."
Before the voicemail could start over once again, Sam reaches out and turns off the phone. Listening to the month old recording just made his heart ache and he had to remind himself that he had more important things to do.
Such as getting a job so he could feed himself and Oliver.
"Fuuuuck," he groans as he rubs his face with his hands. He should call Ponk. Even if it's not to make up, it should be for Oliver's sake.
The thought of his son makes Sam stand up and move over the creaking floor, the sound making his fingers itch to fix it.
For now though he just wants to hold his son in his arms.
A smile was on his lips as he opens the door and he lets himself glance over the room.
He'd made sure that the room was properly isolated and, unlike the rest of the apartment, wasn't under the threat to fall apart.
The bed unmade and big enough for him and Oliver to be resting on, shoved against the wall. A couple of feet is the crib and beside it was an armchair where he usually sat when feeding the baby.
A seat occupied by an unknown man.
Sam freezes in the doorway and watches with the breath in his throat as the man is holding Oliver, bundled up in his green onesie, close to his chest and smiling softly at the baby.
"Afternoon, Samuel Crepgard," the man says as he runs a thumb over Oliver's cheek.
"Who the fuck are you? Get away from my son," Sam almost yells, only hindered by the fact that Oliver is sleeping peacefully in the man's arms.
Oh how he wanted to take him away from the stranger but the fear of Oliver getting injured holds him in place.
"Now now, Samuel, take it easy. I'm not here to harm you or the kid," the man says with a humming voice as he carefully shifts Oliver in his arms.
There's a sense of relief to know that Oliver wasn't in immediate danger but the man's presence did not ease Sam's nerves.
Cleanching his fists, Sam takes a deep breath. "What do you want?"
The man finally moves his eyes away from Oliver and Sam could've sworn that they were made of ice.
"I'm here to make an offer, Samuel. You see, you've gained quite some... let's say reputation. Enough of it to catch the attention of my fair Lady."
The words was sharp and precise, felt practised and yet natural. It sent shivers down Sam's spine and the warning bells in his head rang even louder.
"My dear Lady wants your loyalty, Samuel. You're talanted, and we need a new redstone engineer. What do you say?" The man tilts his head and the smile is cold.
Sam takes a shaking breath. "I still have no clue who you are."
With a hum, the man seems to hold Oliver even closer and lets a hand tenderly stroke Oliver's cheek. "My name is Phil, though many call me the Angel."
Sam pales and leans on the doorpost the moment he hears the nickname, it was all he could do to prevent himself from collapsing.
It was a name that was feared among the common people and he had heard Ponk whisper the name fearfully one too many times when they still was close.
A top-tier assassin, the best of the best, the right hand of Kristin Soot; the leader of the Grim Reapers. Lady Death's loyal Angel.
"Please," Sam says as a lump made itself known in his throat. "Please, I'll do anything, just don't hurt my son!"
The man, Phil, chuckles and it makes Oliver start to shift, making an unhappy face.
Sam holds his breath as Phil's eyes move from him to the baby and starts to coo at him and presses a kiss to his forehead.
"Please don't hurt him," Sam pleads as Phil turns his gaze back to him.
Phil smiles and it's sharp.
"It seems like we have an agreement then. Now, we'll work out details tomorrow, all the information you need to know about the meet up is in the bag I left in the crib."
Phil stands up, Oliver in his arms. "It's quite a cute kid you got. What's his name?"
Sam watches as Phil gives Oliver one of his fingers, the baby grabbing it and seemingly settles down, and starts walking towards him.
"O-Oliver. His name is Oliver."
Phil stops right in front of Sam and a frown makes itself known on his face.
"Not really a fitting name for him, don't you think?" And with those words, Phil walks past Sam, Oliver still in his arms.
Sam stumbles as terror grips his heart and he turns around to follow Phil. "H-hey! Give back Oliver!"
The man only hums as he walks towards the door.
"Markus? Hm, no. Lucas? No, not that either. Hm. What should we name you?"
"Hey! Give him back!" Sam reaches out to grab Phil's shoulder but he freezes in place when Phil opens the door.
"Tommy? Hm. Yes, Tommy sounds much better," he says as he gives Sam a smile over his shoulder, "don't you think?"
Tears was falling down Sam's cheeks. "Please, I beg of you, give me back my son."
Phil let's out a light laugh in response to a babble Oliver let out. "Oh, Kristin will be delighted by you. She has wanted another child for a while now."
He gives Sam one more look. "I look forward to work with you, Samuel Crepgard. I'll see you tomorrow."
With those words, the door closes behind Phil and Sam is left with a hollow feeling inside his chest.
A scream tears itself from his throat as he collapse to the floor, his world torn away from him once again.