I- I have no excuses *bows head*

Beta-ed by lunarshores!

Marco opened the glass doors and walked into the brothel posing as a motel. The lobby wasn't large. Across from the blond stood a slightly cluttered desk, and to his left were a few armchairs, a couch, and a table with a small stack of magazines on top of it. On the right side were two big, surprisingly clean windows and a few potted plants that may or may not have resembled palm trees. There was a hallway leading further into the building beside the door behind the desk.

Marco walked over to the desk. He rang the bell and waited for someone to come. As it turned out, he didn't have to wait long. A gruff man soon appeared from the small room.

"Can I help ya?" he asked in a rough voice, eyes sweeping over Marco in suspicion. The blond pretended he didn't notice anything, and smiled politely.

"I'm looking for something special…" he answered. The man narrowed his eyes.

"I'll need to see some ID." Marco rummaged around in his pocket to take out his wallet. He opened the leather bound item. Sure fingers removed his driver's license. He showed it to the man.

"Will this do?" he asked. The man reached forward to take the plastic card from Marco. He looked it over carefully, before handing it back to the blond.

"Follow me," he said, before turning around and walking back to where he came from. Marco stepped around the polished wood of the desk and walked into the room behind it.

It was small and dim. The man had walked over to a bookshelf and reached behind a couple of books. Grubby fingers wrapped around what looked to be a medium-sized magazine. He turned around, gave it to Marco, and motioned for him to sit on the couch to his left.

Marco did as asked. He placed his legs on the coffee table before him, not caring that he would make it dirty with the mud on his shoes. The man eyed him critically, but didn't comment further.

"Call me when ya make up your mind." And he disappeared once again. Marco opened the magazine. Only it wasn't a magazine. On each page was a picture of a prostitute, and beneath that- a description of them and their "skills". Marco had never felt more disgusted in his life. He reached into his pocket and let his fingers slide over the cool metal of his police badge. It gave him comfort knowing he would bring in the criminal who had kidnapped all these young people soon. He flipped page after page, until he finally came to a stop when his eyes caught sight of a pale face adorned with freckles, bottomless gray eyes, and chin-length wavy black hair. The boy in the picture was glaring at the camera, but behind that mask of anger Marco was able to make out a healthy dose of fear. Or unhealthy, really. Depends on how you looked at the situation.

It was the boy they'd spent the last year and a half looking for.

Marco walked out the door to see the pimp sitting on a chair behind the desk, clearly waiting for him. Calming his nerves, the blond walked out to meet him.

He put the "magazine" down in front of the man and pointed to the picture of the boy he'd been looking at.

"I want him." The pimp looked up, obviously surprised.

"Ya sure?" the man asked. When Marco's eyebrows pulled together and the expression on his face changed into a slight scowl, the pimp quickly set about to telling him the price of the prostitute. "That'll be $300 per hour. How long do you want him for?" Marco had to fight not to show the sneer of disgust threatening to spill across his face.

"The whole night. About 8 hours?" Just in case his colleagues couldn't get here in time to shut down the illegal operation.

"That'll be $2,400." Marco took out his wallet again, and pulled out said amount of money. He could see the greed in the other man's beady eyes. He handed it to the pimp, who quickly started counting the bills. Once he had finished and made sure that he'd been handed the right amount, he reached for a key lying on the desk.

"Go through the room you just came from. On your left you'll see a staircase. Go downstairs. Room 21, right side, near the end of the hallway." Marco thanked the man and did as he'd been told.

The walk was a long one, but that may have been because of the fact that this was a police operation and he couldn't help the way his heart was pounding in his chest, adrenaline making him see everything in hyper-clarity. If he gave himself away now, there would be nothing to stop the pimp from killing him- Marco hadn't brought any weapons with him.

As he walked through the hallway, he pretended he couldn't hear the noises coming from the other rooms. Pleasure-filled moans that pierced the air over and over again, accompanied by panting, made Marco want to place his hands over his ears in an attempt to block out the sounds.

About a few dozen steps later, he'd reached the appointed room. Not bothering to knock, he put the key in the lock and turned it. Upon removing it, Marco grabbed the round doorknob and turned that as well.

The room wasn't what he'd been expecting. It was reasonably large, maybe 5 by 4 meters, and clean. On the right side he could see a door, probably leading off to a bathroom. It was also furnished. There was a bookcase, a dresser, a bed, and what looked to be a metal pole stretching from the ceiling to the floor. A stripper pole?

The boy who'd been sitting on the bed jumped when he walked into the room.

He looked so young…

He put down the book he'd been reading and gave Marco his full attention. The blond could see the fear and desperation clearly etched across his face. He moved to get off the bed.

"I'm here to get you out."

And with that, we've come to the end of the story! I hope you enjoyed reading these drabbles as much as I enojyed writing them!