Sunday, April 10

Manifest Tales #4 “Stardust”

          Broc hated drug dealers. They creeped him out. But if Rand said this guy Tric had something they needed then he’d tough it out. After all, being tough was kind of his thing. The complex he lived in, nick named the Cinder Box for the amount of times it’s gone up in flames, looked to Broc to be just the sort of place a tweaked out dealer would live: run down, off the main drag, and rarely frequented by cops or outsiders. The kind of hole where norm scum go to be forgotten. As they approached the door Broc had to stifle a shiver. He really did hate drug dealers. They tended to be jumpy. Especially if you weren’t expected, and Broc and Rand were not expected.

Rand went to the door first with Broc behind him in the standard tuff-guy pose; arms crossed over his chest, menacing scowl on his face. Rand, going for a cordial meeting, knocked politely on the door to a response of, “Fuck off!”

“So much for being polite,” Rand said turning to Broc with a mischievous smile on his face. “We’ll just have to knock harder.” Broc knew this to be his queue. He smiled a mirror of Rand’s, stepped forward as the other man slid behind him and slammed into the door with massive force. The door splintered inward revealing a stunned Tric and an even more stunned young woman.

Tric was sitting on a couch, pants around his ankles. She was kneeled in front of him, no doubt putting the finishing touches on an oral performance. Broc could see right away that the girl was way out of this dudes league. He looked exactly as he had imagined; skinny, frail, cracked out. But she was a bombshell. Blonde, nicely proportioned, perfect skin, beautiful eyes. Not the kind of chick you usually find bobbing the knob of some skeevy crank dealer. But there she was.

Rand walked in with his sadistic cool, “I think its time to go love.” The girl didn’t even hesitate. She simply scooped up her pride and ran. “Mind tucking that away there mate?” Tric scrambled to pull his pants up as the two headed further into the room. Broc filled the small space with a menacing presence. Tric paled.

“What’s going on? Who are you guys?” Panic was playing across his face along with confusion, anger taking a back seat to caution.

“You’ve been a very naughty boy, Tric.” That sadistic cool laid thick as Rand moved closer to the frail man.


“I d-don’t know w-what you’re talking about.” Nerves made the words come out in a stutter.

“Oh come now, you’re telling me that girl was here cause you're just that smooth?” Rand plopped down on the couch next to Tric and it was as if a switch was flipped; sadistic cool to best friend. “Don’t worry, we’re not here to bust you.” A glance at Broc told him to tone down the muscle bit. Tric suddenly found it was easier to breathe. The whole atmosphere in the room seemed to be more inviting. Tric visibly relaxed.

“If you’re not here to bust me then what do you want?”

“We just want to know how you did it.”

“What do you mean?”

“How did you get that girl in here without Sage banging down your door?”

“Oh, that.” Tric stood up and headed toward the kitchen, “Just a special concoction of mine.” It never ceased to amaze Broc the way people instantly took to Rand. Even having busted down his door and chased away his norm slut, Tric was now treating them as if they were old friends. Rand had this affect on most people, and only part of it was adept ability. Mostly it was just him. He had that kind of aura about him that drew people to him.

Rand got up and walked over to the standard issue apartment bar that overlooked into the kitchen. Broc followed close behind. Tric opened a cupboard and pulled out a jar of what looked like purple powder. He held the jar up, looking at it with a lustful gaze, “This is Stardust.”

“Stardust?”

“Yea, Stardust.” Tric shook himself out of whatever dark thoughts he was having holding the jar, and set it on the bar in front of Rand. “That’s just what I’m calling it. Has a nice ring doesn’t it?”

Rand picked up the jar and turned it in his hand, watching the purple crystals swim under the glass, “Sure, sure, but what’s it do?”

Tric hopped up so he was sitting on the counter directly across from Rand. “Ah, well, lots of things really. It gets you high as fuck. Well, not you. Norms. It only works on them. It’s highly addictive, but it has no physical symptoms. All mental shit, so no one goes all cracked out, but they keep coming back anyway. And they’ll do anything for another taste. Anything.”

“Like blowing a cracked out dirtball like you? No offence.” It sounded harsh, even to Broc, but he knew Tric wouldn’t take it that way. Another of Rand’s social gifts.

“Yea, like blowing a cracked out dirtball like me.” Broc mentally shook his head. Amazing.

“But that still doesn’t explain how you kept Sage out of your deal. You gotta be breaking several of their guidelines.”

“Not really. The drug itself is real. The only manifested part in the whole deal is the equipment used to make it. Other then that it’s 100% genuine so it doesn’t leave an adept imprint behind. It also has a detoxifying agent in it that cleanses the user of not only the chemical traces of Stardust, but also any other drug in the system. My personal favorite, this turns junkies hooked on smack into clean, upstanding citizens hooked on Stardust instead. Which is untraceable. No one comes looking for a source of a drug that doesn’t exist.” Tric smiled brightly. He was certainly proud of his creation.

“You’re pretty smart for a tweaker.” Rand placed the jar on the counter and looked at the other man intently.

“Thanks…” Tric hesitated, not sure what to make of the look on Rand’s face.

Rand sighed and relaxed his stare, “Too smart to be hustling these low games.” This was it. This is why they were here. Rand slipped into his routine. The same kind of routine that made him popular to the neo-nazi youth he used to recruit before he manifested. Again, this was mostly him. His natural disposition inspired people to follow his lead.

Broc had heard it all before. Had even been taken in by it himself. Rand wove a verbal web of how norms were less than they were. How adepts were like gods and deserved to be treated as such. How Sage suppressed their freedom for the sake of lesser beings. All beautifully mocked up to be words of gospel to all that heard it. Tric was hooked. Broc could see it in his eyes, filled with open adoration for Rand.

“Shit, you’re right. I never thought of it that way.” Tric’s face held emotion like he’d finally found purpose.

Rand’s tone came dark and serious, “Then you’d be willing to use your gift to help your brethren?” Shadows formed around the apartment and Broc could feel their eagerness at hearing the answer.

Tric slid off the counter, falling to a ragged kneel. “Yes. Yes, I’ll do what ever you want.”

The shadows rejoiced and engulfed the room. Rand’s voice came out of the darkness, thick with jubilant malice, “Welcome to the Vendot.”

End

No comments:

Post a Comment