(Flashback) Street Kings (Solo)

by **Adam King** on September 20th, 2012, 1:20 am

510 Fall Day 20th

Yawning awake with languid stretching, Adam crawled out from under the slightly grimy covers. Smacking his lips in hungover inspection of the room, he tilted his head in some surprise to see there was yet another figure asleep in his bed. Raising a brow in thought, the drunken memories of the night rushed back to him. Oh, what a rush it had been. And were there... where there three of them at some point? And what in blazes was that dust Red Frank sprinkled inside of their drinks? Whatever it was, it had amasing marketability, and Adam would have to get his hands on some of it for trade. And perhaps some for personal use.

Scrounging through the ... he checked - through the girl's discarded heap of clothes, he found his way to the desired prize in delight. The thick cigarette was plopped into his mouth and lit as King peered out into the dirty Sunset Quarter street while exhaling a thick puff of smoke. It was good, it tasted something like the girl, he considered. That's silly, he negotiated on with himself, you're just mentally creating the association - girls don't taste like cigars.

"If only they did...", he sighed, smirking back as a hand caressed his shoulder and with a brief peck of his gruffy cheek was offered only a cheerful "I'm going." before his guest dressed and departed. Now to remember her name, just in case she's there at the next basement party. Mmm, something with an 'R'? Ridiculously Ripe, he had keyworded her. 'R. R.'.. Rrrr.. Rachel! Robbins! Well, Rachel Robbins, the King will gladly anoint you again.

Once done with the smoking, he took quick bites of the grub left-over on the table and dressed, prized coat's belt tightened, money in the pocket, knife in its place. Now to find Red Frank about that dust.

by **Adam King** on September 20th, 2012, 1:27 pm

Stepping into The Pig's Foot some twenty minutes later, machismo bellows were shared between he and the ginger red-bearded man he storde directly for.

"Redshit!"

"King of my dick!"

Slapping hands with Red Frank and his surly brawly looking friend, Adam turned a chair and reverse-mounted it, coat hanging off the back as he leaned forward over the backrest. "You wish!"

"Anyway, screw all a'that - tell me 'bout last ni'te!"

"It's what I in fact came to parlay about! Dude, what is that dust?! It's amasing!"

"Shh-shh-shh, boy-toy, keep it down."

Red Frank exchanged a few more words with his massive enforcer pal before the man wordlessly headed out of the establishment. "Tell me how it was, Kay."

"What, you want a sex story, or...?"

"Naw, man - tell'm'bout the feeling like, for you, broadly like."

"I don't know man, it's like ... not so much a high, as much as it making you like extreemely present. Like all there, feeling everything, each sense intense, all there in full emotional array. Like a rush of pure perception giving meaning to everything going on inside."

"Well for one thing, ya' need ta' stop readin' them books befo' you re-sell 'em. But more importantly, I like the tune you're singin'. How much do ya think ya can place for me?"

"How much a shot?"

The redbeard rubbed his beard in thought, gesturing a major concession. "For you - Three gold a pop."

"You're tryin' to do me, Frankie, and after last night I'm all set, thanks. One."

"Two."

"Two."

"We both knew it was going to be two."

"We hav' ta go through the motions, kid, or else how are we business men?"

"We're not. We're freescum.", Adam thought, but didn't voice it. Instead he went on to said business. "Yea, well, I still have to place this shit at three a pop to make anything off of it. And you know there are sooo much cheaper drugs out there. Give me ten for a warm-up."

Sliding the small package to the leather-coated man, the ginger dealer nodded in satisfaction.

"So what's the catch? What does it screw up? Your guts, your head, massive addiction?"

"Mh.. not more than others..."

Adam raised a brow and beckoned the man on.

"Well, Kingsy, the catch might be..." He leaned in and lowered his voice. "..and this is just a rumour." The voice descended another level, almost into a whisper. "... but it might - Might! Be laced with magic somehow."

Adam considered this. Sunberth reealy hated magic, so this might just be Frank's marketing pitch to produce a forbidden fruit effect. Yet if it was true, he felt uneasy about selling any sort of magic dust. Hell, money's money. Picking up the small package, he headed out into the streets.

Time to sell.

by **Adam King** on September 21st, 2012, 2:20 pm

Three hours in, it was not going well.

To understand why it wasn't going well, one has to understand Sunberth's slum-city's market. The offer of drugs is at the highest levels on the continent, and with massive poverty everywhere, what is sought is much more rather the cheapest, rather than the best, hallucinogenic products. The only upside is - there' so many of them. So many more-or-less (usually less) casual consumers, each worth a try of King's pitch.

He'd had to sell one for two goldies fifty - silly him offering it at three straight off the bat. Another sale of two shots went for a five-gold total, and only a fourth shot of the ten he had to dispense actually sold for three gold mizzes after going through the trouble of coming down from five gold.

Another issue was so many of the consumers expecting a complementery try-out shot. While this was a common practice, Adam just couldn't afford it. Good as the stuff might be, your client, even if wealthy-looking, might never come back. Hell, if he'd of been any serious kind of cut-throat dealer, he'd be piching try-out shots everywhere, selling the first five shots to each client, and the many many subsequent sales coming with addiction would first be only 70%, then 50%, then 30% the real deal, the rest mixed up with coloured sugar-dust. And it'd all be so easy considering the explanation of "Sorry man, you've developed tolerance - You want a double?" would be so accessible.

King waved those thoughts away as, taking up a new high-potential position on the corner of the street overlooking the entrance to Ruby's Sanctum - fancy fanny-fen extraordinnaire, he noted one of the well-dressed customers coming out of said brothel. Two others had refused, but he wouldn't lose this target. Don't seem like the dirt you are. Don't seem like the dirt you are. You have the coat. Be the coat. Stance straightened, with care to accent, he approached the man. These, you didn't approch with a "Hey radge, wan' som' goo'stuff?", he learned, but more rather...

"Excuse me sir, pardon to take of your time, could I humbly interest you in fine-branded substances for chemical enjoyment?"

The moustached noble-looking middle-aged 'gentleman' gave an arrogant smile from under the long moustache, gesturing amply with his gloved hand as he turned to speak. "Please, boy, I highly doubt the slag you peddle can prove of aany interest to mee."

"Ah, but it is because my fine 'slag', as you say, is in fact the highest quality product yet to really hit the market that I approach a connoiseur like yourself and not the streetscum that abound."

The 'gentleman', leaning onto his cane in consideration, seemed to consider this. "What is it and how much?"

"Well good sir, it's a product yet to hit the greater market. As it intesifies senses beyond the capability of any other drugs, along with making you entirely present and thus perfectly adapted for intense sensory perceptions of the experiences to come..." Adam had to pause for a second and recapitulate, in his head, the long sentence he'd been struggling to pretentiously churn out. "... , which I'm sur milord endulges in at the highest level, the normal price of fifteen gold is reduced to ten gold per gram." He looked at the noble's incredulous eyebrow-raise. "...Which, considering it's my honor to have my product tested by such a connoiseur, I can further reduce, at my own expense, to seven."

"Surely, good boy, that you can provide a discount, considering that if I were to buy your product, the quality of which I know noothing about, I would not simply buy a mere gram, as my noble kin would too like to sample the product so as to.. share notes, as it were."

"Six..."

"Four."

"Please, milord, buy it at five, I'm already at a loss."

"Very well... One wouldn't want to misuse my superior education so as to silver-tongue my way into a price that would leave your family unfed."

"I am evergrateful, milord, as is my ailing uncle awaiting at home. How many grams?"

"Ten."

Shit. Crap. And a host of many many other and more vile thoughts coursed at high-speed through Adam's head. Unsupplied, and after having poached such a brilliant price. He wouldn't be seeing this guy again any time soon, he knew that much. But who knows.

"I only have six, Milord." He thrusted the small packets ahead to hand them. "But seek out King around the Pig's Foot Tavern and I shall swiftly provide more upon demand."

"Hmph... fine." While his nos wrinkled in some displeasure, the well-off man took the small packets, carefully counting out the money owed before handing it back.

"But please, mention not to any of the other patrons wha you seek, because as I said, the product is yet to be widely released..." He considered his words. I'm calling thiis guy into the Pig? He'd get eaten alive. And he might even know it. "...And of course, as the Pig's Foot is likely not a pleace worth of milord's station, sending any servant with a note or to trade will also bring me to milord's service, better stocked..."

"Good day, Mr. King."

The click of the cane against the cobbles was a happy sound, because while the opportunity was partially missed, the profits made in a mere six hours of scouting out marks and making pitches were something Adam felt fairly proud of. Tommorow, he'd have to go get more from Red Frank. Considerably more.

In the back of his head, he still wondered about the magic thing.

by **Archelon** on September 27th, 2012, 11:59 pm

Epilogue.

As he turned to leave towards his home, a man approached Adam out of the shadows of an alley as he was . "So I see you're dealing a bit with pulp now aren't you? You know ... you should be careful who you buy and sell that stuff too. Even more careful about who you get your supply from. Enhancing the drug so far has only been done by the Night Eyes, and well... one runner that's now been dealt with. Good luck to you, Mister King. Perhaps I'll see you again sometime..."

With nary another word, the figure seemed to turn away a moment before turning away. "Oh, and don't mind that your friend left the city for awhile. Your little show seemed to get him in the mood to run. It's just the way business works. " A harsh bit of laughter escaped the unknown man's lips, "By now he's just running with the sharks of the bay, I don't expect you'll meet him again. Good day, King. Good day."

With a bit of a churlish laugh the hooded figure vanished from sight before Adam could even draw a blade. Leaving him with many unanswered questions, If he ever did find his friend again at the tavern, he might be surprised to see him having only lost half an arm.

That's just the type of thing happens when someone tries to steal something and sell it when they weren't supposed to. But, at least Alex would be able to get regular Pulp around if he chose to sell that at least.

Thread Award

"..."

And the Results!!!!:

Adam :

Would you like some extra turtle sauce ? :

Solo (Flashback) Street Kings (Solo)