'Mike. Fuck man, this is bullshit dude, I need your-'
The sentence was interrupted by sudden Roger's scream and a shrill howl that had almost made Michael drop the phone the first time he heard the message.
This wasn't the first time he had done this. Go slumming it, get in trouble, call for his 7'1 buddy to come and bail him out of trouble. He was a good guy, met him back in the team, but had an unhealthy addiction to getting into deep shit.
This was different, though. Sure, he had got himself in trouble that he couldn't handle himself, but that scream was nothing a normal human throat could make.
He had at least put his savior on red alert. Sent him a message that he'd go hit this dingy bar in the middle of nowhere, address included, to check out the bottom of the barrel of girls of the night. Michael had just been sensible enough to pass. If just because he knew stuff like this happened in places like that.