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Post by Bucket on Oct 29, 2011 18:27:01 GMT -5
The shaking man walked into Angel's club, overburdened by three suitcases as he bathed in the deeply crimson ambient light. His bulging eyes scanned the room, stopping on each of the dancing girls lustily before they finally came to rest on the round corner booth he had been told about by the boy with the Russian accent. The man's world warped and stretched around him with every step towards the booth, and the colors and sounds of the place bled together into one hybrid sensation that was pure pleasure to his drug-altered mind. He was tripping on Purge at the time. Purge was the drug the Russian boy had addicted him to, and the stoner had accepted his task eagerly in exchange for another hit and the promise of more when the task was completed.
His staggering walk over to the table was far from graceful, but he didn't care. He swung the three nondescript suitcases onto the table and veritably fell onto the curved bench around the table. He waved away a waitress that came by and set himself upright. His vision distorted as he watched the waitress walk away, and he let out an obnoxious gasp when the effects of the drugs removed the girl's clothes in his mind. His senses continued to blend and intertwine as he waited for the three people he was told to meet. It was an effort for him to remember his task through the euphoric high he was on, but he was committed to earning his next hit from the Russian. It didn't concern him at all when his right arm seemed to be splitting into several lengthy tentacles.
The Purge was wreaking havoc on the victim just as the Russian had planned. He wanted the contacts to see just how high his product could take people.
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Post by stovehead on Oct 29, 2011 19:45:32 GMT -5
Duncan watched the young man from his accustomed corner in Angel's. He was quite the regular customer. Yvonne was straddling his lap, her delicate hands tracing circles on his shirt as she murmured sweet nothings into his ear. He was dressed simply enough for a biker. A black muscle shirt, showcasing his impressive physique, was paired with a pair of ripped blue jeans and steel-toed boots. And of course, he sported the leather vest that proclaimed to the world he belonged to the Black Dogs.
He had been at the club for about five hours. For now, he decided to bide his time and wait. He did, however, openly stare at the young man. High people were fun to mess with. |
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Post by COZ♥ on Oct 29, 2011 21:49:04 GMT -5
Angel's had always made Elise want to take a shower - the idea of selling affection was so repulsive, she couldn't stand it. Without her stripper sister around to distract her, it was even worse.
"Do you want anything, miss?" A waitress asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
Elise frowned. She must have been new, to give someone that kind of look around here. "No thank you." She said curtly, looking across the room at the man. People came to these clubs high all the time, but the suitcases made her suspect he was the one she was looking for. Noticing her serious expression, the mildly intimidated serving girl hurried off.
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Post by Mr. Stranger on Oct 29, 2011 23:35:56 GMT -5
Shihong lounged comfortably as he ran a hand along the faux-fur of his seat. He had reserved the table specifically for this occasion. Located at the back of the room, it had a perfect view of everything from the door to the pretty little sluts that he'd been watching dance around in gaudy lingerie, asses shaking like fucking earthquakes. Though he felt some arousal, the polished criminal wasn't really interested in their display - skanks had a tendency to bore him. There wasn't any heart in their false affections to take pleasure in tearing to shreds.
As a scantily-clad waitress dropped off his order, a half-filled glass of the house Chardonnay, he caught sight of a stumbling man entering the club. The sorry loser was clearly tripping balls as he fumbled with his three suitcases - presumably the very suitcases that were the theme of the evening. Ready to have some fun, Shihong picked up his drink and slithered from his now unneeded table. As he walked confidently to his target, he covertly poured most of his wine into a garish vase of roses that had been left near the stage by a poor lovestruck fool. The alcohol was just a pretense, anyway. Accustomed to doing risky business, he knew just how to gain the upper hand. People tended to let their guard down when they assumed they had a cognitive advantage, and a near-empty glass implied intoxication. Shihong, however, would remain poised to strike, waiting for the moment when the dumb fucks slipped.
Shihong gracefully slid in next to the braindead druggie, softly setting his glass on the table. Flashing a conspiratory grin, he whispered to the other man in a low, sweet voice. "Is one of those for me?"
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Post by Bucket on Oct 30, 2011 0:19:12 GMT -5
The druggie turned to face the newly seated man. He appeared to be a technicolor bear. The high man broke out in giggles at the scowling bear. Didn't it realize how stupid it was to wear a tophat with overalls? Fumbling in his pockets, the addict managed to produce a trio of envelopes. The envelopes actually contained nothing more than an inventory of contents, and were mostly intended to provide the names and descriptions of the carefully packaged drugs in the suitcases.
"Whuu- What gang are you with-ith-ith, bearboy?" the stoner giggled, trying to match the envelopes with their respective suitcases. When the task was done, he waited for the man to answer.
"The guy, the guy with the stuff? He said that there was one for three. Or one for one. Or three for one. Or something. It was important. Anyways, the guy, the guy he said that each their own, or something. I can't remember. Just take the one with your gang's name, I have to catch my head" and with that said the poor man flopped over in the booth and began to scramble to catch what he perceived to be his own head walking away on bird legs. Once he was satisfied that his skull was back in its place, the druggie added one final comment.
"And the guy, yeah the guy said that no one could steal the suitcases because someone from the other gangs would kill them for the cases. I remember he said that because he said that if I stole the suitcases they'd kill me. But they can't kill me because I'm already dead. I can't be killed again. I'm an orangutan."
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Post by stovehead on Oct 30, 2011 12:06:48 GMT -5
Duncan carefully detached himself from Yvonne, leaving her on the bench. She pouted at his retreating back, and then slid off the seat to go find Tami. Bastard didn't even tip her.
He approached nonchalantly, and slid in on the other side of the druggie, a shit-eating grin on his face.
"I do love getting presents." His eyes held a hungry gleam as he looked over the cases. |
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Post by COZ♥ on Oct 30, 2011 12:30:29 GMT -5
Elise sized up the men sitting with the junkie, quickly assessing the threat level. Both looked dangerous. It would have been much more prudent to send someone else to do this for her, but she didn't feel like any of them could of done the job right... least of all Nathan, the only one who volunteered to help.
With one last suspicious glance across the room, Elise slipped through the crowd and to the booth. Unwilling to sit next to either man, she sniped a chair from a nearby table.
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Post by Bucket on Oct 30, 2011 12:53:06 GMT -5
It took a moment for the braindead druggie to shake off his hallucinations long enough to see the three guests at his table. It took him longer still to deduce which person belonged to which gang. Sliding each representative their respective suitcase and letter, the druggie produce another fourth letter from his coat which he read aloud to the small congregation.
"Read this to the three representatives once they have established contact. Ensure that they pay attention." The stoner looked around one more time, making brief eye contact with each of the listening emissaries. Once satisfied they they were listening, he proceeded to stumble through the rest of the letter, which had far too many long words for his drug-numbed brain to quite understand. "Hello honorable guests. You have indeed made contact with Nikolai, and I have a business proposition for each of you. Each of these briefcases contains precisely $4500 worth of my products, both in conventional forms and in my own special mixtures. These samples, which will be addressed by name, value, and quantity in the letters they come with, are for your own personal pleasure and for distributing to your established clientele. I personally guarantee that each buyer will return to you, and be willing to pay prices far higher than the suggester prices listen in my letters. If you find these samples of pleasure and profit worthwhile, then follow the instructions provided by the enclosed letter with each briefcase. I look forward to contacting each of your representative organizations again soon. Be aware, however, that there is only one of Nikolai and three of you. Take into consideration your competition when you make you offers to me. There is only room for one gang to rule the drug market, and I am the key to domination."
The druggie allowed for a moment of silence to pass before he politely asked the laser bear to stop eating his pet squid. His work was done, and as soon as he confirmed that each gang member took their suitcase and letter he could go forth to collect his addictive stipend.
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Post by stovehead on Oct 30, 2011 18:13:04 GMT -5
Duncan looked at Elise, raising an eyebrow archly. She seemed a little young to be in the crime biz. She looked like she wasn't old enough to get into the club.
Duncan listened to the druggie's slurred speech with some irritation. Nothing was more annoying than high people. He ran a hand over the cheap imitation leather of the suitcase almost reverently. Anything that could make Duncan more money was worth his time. The meeting concluded, he nodded at Shihong and Elise before he sauntered off.
Outside the bar, he discreetly handed Aleksandra the case, trusting her to get it safely to the Black Dog club house. |
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