The first thing that struck Travis was the smell. It was like a mixture of sewerage and rubbish left in the sun to ferment. He didn't dare cover his nose because that would mean taking his hand away from his belt, where he kept his assortment of "toys" as he liked to call them. Making his way up the stairs, he couldn't help but feel as though they were just on the verge of collapse and every creak and crack had him bracing for a fall. It never ceased to amaze him the conditions some people were willing to live in, although admittedly some may have had no other choice. Looking down at the tracker he could see Avery was on the next floor and he made sure his steps were slow and quiet. Sound seemed to travel unnaturally well in these hovels and it often took away the advantage of surprise.
He approached the doorway, it had not had a door in it for some time by the rusty look of the hinges, and prepared himself for the chase. Going through a quick mental checklist of equipment, his current surroundings and those he had passed and the contents of the open planned room in front of him, he felt confident he was in a great position for a quick and clean take down. He took one step inside the room and it was suddenly very clear he his confidence was not only misplaced, it was unfounded.