|Current mood:|| creative|
It was another time, another place.
There had been a war, many years ago. This war had been horrible, and the final result had been an entire collapse of society. It was not the material world that had died, but instead the social world. With an entire generation of veterans returning, society had no place to give them a home. The result was anarchy as these men who had been driven mad by an unnecessary war rose to the occasion, turning to a life of crime and murder. Soon society had failed entirely. What was once golden and pure was now rusted and bleeding. The government had become a figurehead, and was controlled by corporations that kept tabs on practically everything. Law and order did not care, unless one was willing to pay for protection.
And protection was provided, for a hefty price. The rich found their ways into large inner city suburbs that were defended by closed gates and guards with machine guns. Those without enough money were left on the outside. Society stayed much like it had been; people went to work, children went to school, and lived in apartment buildings and houses. Despite this, something was wrong. Crime rates were sky high, and the police force was ineffective to stop it, and had in many ways joined it. Your average cop had five pounds of dope under his seat and had a plan to distribute it throughout his route.
In these criminal times, people had grown paranoid. Some had grown to become psychotic murderers, others had taken to self protection and constantly carried weapons. Others desperately worked themselves to the bone to get enough money to buy the protection of the inner city suburbs, but often they found themselves chained to their cubicles or registers, unable to leave. Finally, a great proportion of people had turned to drugs, finding chemical escape to free themselves from the hell that was reality.
Zach Wilson was one such person. He was a pasty man in his twenties with black greasy hair disarrayed in a sort of mess that could never be tamed and a feral looking face to match. He was unshaven, and wore heavy black clothes to hide his physical deformities from the drugs. He worked at a Burger Joes a few days of a week under a sadistic manager who knew he was a junkie, and knew he was too dependant on the paycheck and the drugs to ever complain, revolt, or try to kill him. It was this job that brought the most need for drugs, this job that had caused him to drop out of college, and this job that had made his life the most hellish, but right now life was good.
He had just taken a few hits of Rosebud, a relatively new drug that was a mix of some of the more common hallucinogens and a few of the relaxants. Feeling the high resonating around him, he looked up. In the clouded fog of unearthly pleasure that filled his mind, he could make out a stage, a bar beside it with a few figures, one of which he recognized as an old acquaintance who dropped out of life and into a bottle, David, and he could hear satanic techno blaring from unknown speakers.
Sure enough, he had ended up in Vince’s lair.
Vince’s lair was an underground bar, one of the best places to get drugs. The prices were good and the shows were great. They had sexy nude waitresses, mostly underage, that doubled as hookers if you had the scratch, and could make any dream come true, for enough money. Zach knew this for a fact.
“Hey Zach, you gonna order anything?” A voice said, reaching into the void that was Zach’s head. He looked up to see one of the nicest pussys he had seen all night.
“Up here, Zach.” The voice said. He obeyed, and seeing that a pair of annoyed hands were crossed over the breasts, he focused on the face through his drugged haze. It was Angela, one of the nicest waitresses, and his supplier. Four years back he had been her boyfriend, but those days were over. She knew he was a junkie, and he knew she was a whore. The two didn’t mesh well.
“Yeah… A beer or two… I gotta work off this high before they get to me…” Zach said, not really having any control over his voice.
“Okay, gotcha…” The voice said, beginning to sound slightly gutteral. His eyes had fallen to her shaven pussy, and even though she had walked off, it was still there, emitting a sort of wormy creature. Shaking his head, the hallucination vanished and he giggled a bit to himself. Suddenly, the music stopped, causing him to jump. He had heard edginess was one of the first parts of getting off the high, but this was a bit much.
“Hello you fuckers!” A familiar voice screamed. The stage illuminated, and Vince leapt up. Vince was a wiry man in a ringleader’s costume with a conceited air about him. It was well known that he was a big crimelord, but he also had a theatrical side, which was expressed in his club. Zach’s eyes narrowed as he watched what Vince was doing, although it looked like his face was melting.
“Alrighty, alrighty alrighty! You fuckers ready for a show?” He shouted, and the entire bar screamed a resounding “FUCK YEAH!”
Again with the theatrics.
“Alright! You’ll get something great tonight! We have a very special guest for you tonight! Can I introduce to you, Victoria! She’s a crack whore who washed up on my front door, and you know what happens to bitches who end up at my front door, right?” Vince shouted into a blood soaked microphone.
“Metal! Metal! Metal! Metal!” The crowd screamed, and Vince grinned.
“FUCK YEAH! ENJOY THE SHOW!” Vince screamed, obviously high off the rush of being the center of attention, then ran off stage. He then returned with an underaged brunette who was attached to a metal slab with leather straps on her chest, shoulders, waist, and limbs. Her mouth was secured with a ball gag, and other than that, she was completely nude.
Then came the show. Vince returned with a large man in a business suit with a metal hockey mask. He was carrying a briefcase. He set it down on the stage, and began his job, while Vince gave commentary. It was horrible to watch… There was bruising, cutting, bleeding, raping, beating, and penetrations that bent the imagination. The crowd went wild.
Zach sat there, sipping at the beer that had been delivered to him by a mushroom with a pussy. He had seen several metal shows at Vince’s, but this was by far the worst, and by worst he meant best. In nearly four minutes of it, all of the waitresses had queues on them for fuckings. Zach had wasted the last of his paycheck on the Rosebud, so he just watched the stage, shuddering occasionally but grinning all the same. Finally the finale came, a nasty bit with some horrible screaming behind the ball gag, and the crowd was howling with approval. With a bow from Vince and the Metal man, she was taken to the back, where she was probably fucked out of her mind by some high paying customers.
Taking another sip of his beer, Zach sighed. It was probably time to get back to his apartment that he was sharing with about 8 other junkies, or maybe just collapse in an ally until sunrise. Either way sounded equally good, and he gathered enough energy to get up off the seat, when a hand came out from behind him and patted him on his shoulder.
“Zach my man.” A familiar inky voice said beside him.
Zach jumped, then looked up to see the Metal man with his hand on his shoulder, and Vince sitting next to him, his face still distorting. Shaking his head, he found himself looking at a very serious looking Vince.
“How’d you like the show?” Vince asked, a sort of nasty smile crossing his bloodstained face; he had taken part in some of the festivities.
“It was… Terrible.” Zach said, grinning.
“You’re pretty fucked up right now, huh?” Vince asked, grinning again. Something about Vince put Zach at ease, hell, something about Vince put everybody at ease. That’s how he got most of his metal man victims. Even so, aside from David and some of his junkie pals, he was the closest thing Zach had to a friend right now.
“Rosebud man… It’s where it’s at…” Zach said, putting his hands in front of him, as though to visualize the hallucinations.
“Fuck yeah! You try the red acid yet?” Vince asked.
“Once… Oh god… It was… Like falling through reality, and your mind just goes… somewhere else… It’s so damn expensive though…”
“Heh, falling through reality… You’re fucking smart for a stoner…” Vince said, smiling and getting closer. Zach didn’t feel any danger, although the single sober neuron of his brain told him he should be.
“Hey, I was in college man…” Zach said, grinning.
“Ah. Anyway… I had something to ask of you… You want some Red acid? I have a special deal for you…” Vince said, holding out his hand.
Zach’s eyes were free of hallucinations as Vince opened his fingers to reveal a syringe with a reddish fluid in it; the red acid. Zach didn’t remember the main high of red acid, but he remembered the after effects. He had felt great for days, and had even been able to go to work without any worries or paranoid episodes. If his life was a cancer, a diseased existence, then red acid was the cure. Rosebud… Rosebud was candy next to Red acid.
“Shit… That’s gotta be 12 milligrams! And the color… It’s the specially engineered shit!” Zach said, his eyes widening. Back in college, he had been a chemistry major, and had gone on to work in a drug lab for a while, until it burned down while he was off getting high. In any scenario, he knew his drugs.
“You want this?” Vince asked.
“I would kill for that…” Zach said, the red fluid swirling in the needle.
“Good. Come into my office.” Vince said.
At the bar, David was having his last drink, and he took a feeble look over at where Zach was. Sighing to himself through the drunken haze, he muttered, “Stupid fuckhead…”
Vince’s office was rather small, and the Metal man had gone off to attend to some other business, leaving Zach alone with Vince. Zach had been in here once to get a pass for one of his friends, but hadn’t gotten a good view of it. Now that he saw it, it was a grizzly sight. There were all manner of torture implements, a throne, a executive desk that had probably been taken from an office building, and a single lightbulb casting an eerie glow on the entire scene.
Vince took off his hat to reveal a rather large rabbit. Zach shook his head again, and the rabbit was gone.
“Seeing things, are we?” Vince said grinning in that creepy way.
“Yeah…” Zach muttered.
“Well, sober up man, because when you do this, you’ll have the high of your life.” Vince said.
“What do you want me to do?” Zach asked, figuring it would be a bit of drug trafficking.
“You said you’d be willing to kill for Red acid… That’s just what needs to happen.” Vince said, grinning.
Zach got sober real quick.
“What?” He asked, his eyes growing wide and the constant paranoia returning to his person.
“You know you want the Red acid… And if you don’t, well… You don’t want to be the next Metal man victim, do you?” Vince said.
“You want me to… Kill someone then?” Zach said.
“You’re the perfect person. No major criminal record, totally random, perfect.” Vince said. How did Vince know that…? Zach swam back to reality after falling into his drugged haze for a second.
“Who should… I kill…” Zach asked. Vince pulled out a photograph of a Hispanic man with a arrogant look on his face.
“Bill Gonzalez. He’s a man who owes me some money. He lives on 156th street, Shadow Hill Heights, 403 B. Go now, and he’ll be sleeping. He has a dog, and an alarm system. However, he does not keep the alarm for his window. Break that, and you’re in. Here… take this. When you’ve done your work, meet me in the ally on 34th street.” Vince said, grinning as he handed Zach a small silenced submachine gun.
“What… Okay.” Zach whispered. He hesitated for a second, feeling a bit odd. He had never killed anyone before, and had always believed in live and let live. Live, let live, sit back and enjoy the fireworks, and try to keep others off your back. But if he didn’t do as Vince wanted, he’d have the Metal man on his back, sticking things into him that he couldn’t even imagine. The thought of that drove all remaining effects of the rosebud away. He had no other choice.
156th street was just a few miles away, and with a few hits of various minor stimulants, he was on his way. Being high made anything possible, and thanks to the drugs, he felt up to this. Walking the streets this late was dangerous, but everybody knew that. From his baggy black clothing and slow shuffle, he was identified as a junkie, and it was common sense that you don’t fuck with junkies, as they were all paranoid psychopaths.
After a while of walking, Zach felt his paranoia returning. Looking behind him constantly, feeling as though there were ghosts or something coming after him, he began walking faster. Finally, his eyes rested on 156th street, but his feet kept on moving. Without registering this for fear of whatever was following him, a car suddenly sped by. Rushed back to rational thought, he realized where he was and made the turn into the apartment complex.
Shadow Hill Heights was a pretty typical apartment building in the city. Covered in graffiti, trash, and other unmentionable things, it was cheap and trashy. Walking up to the fourth floor, he reached a crossroads which lead to the outside balconies. He could barely see in the darkened hallways, which were only illuminated by a lonely florescent light every ten or twenty feet. Taking a right turn, he eventually came to the outside balcony, with the windows and doors of the apartments. Doing a bit of mental math, then rechecking it several times, he found out that the window closest to him was indeed 403 B. He looked around cautiously, then backed off. What if the cops found out? He had heard they did things worse than the Metal man could do… But it was better to risk the cops than Vince, Vince knew who to talk to if he needed to find him.
Zach took a step back from the window, and pulled out a joint. Nothing like a bit of pot to get him ready for what he needed to do, to calm his nerves. As he lit up, his lighter made a snapping noise.
A roaring came from within the apartment as a hideous figure emerged from the curtains, illuminated in the moonlight. Zach nearly fell off the balcony as it continued to roar, and Zach realized that it was indeed the dog, if you could call it that. A pit bull mix. Suddenly, another figure came forth in the nude, a burly Hispanic man who grabbed the dog and smacked it. Zach recognized him as Bill, and he recognized Zach as some suspicious guy outside his apartment.
“What the fu…”
He didn’t finish his sentence. Years of stimulants and paranoia had given Zach lightning reflexes. He almost always carried a switchblade, often carried a revolver, and now that he had the submachine gun, he opened fire.
A quick burst from the gun knocked Zach to his knees, and he realized that he had missed his target. A whimpering noise from the other side of the curtain meant he had hit something, the dog. In any scenario, the door was now open and the man was now standing over him, cracking his knuckles. A quick kick to his hand knocked the gun to the other end of the balcony.
“Vince sent an fucking junkie after me, huh? So that’s his answer, huh? A puny assassination attempt? Well, I guess I’d better make the best of it. See this? You’re gonna suck it off, then you’re gonna pray for mercy before I fucking kill you.” Bill said, pointing to his member.
Zach felt something rising out of his drugged subconscious, a sort of rage at the world, and his paranoid side came forth.
Glancing at the submachine gun, it was too far… But he still had his switchblade on him. While he was thinking this, Bill gave him a punch, sending him back.
But Zach let himself be punched, as he pulled out his left leg from behind him. Zach then sensed the deepest hue of red; he saw red, smelled red things, and he heard red noises. He lunged at him with his right hand posed in a mock punch that was easily deflected, but his left hand had grabbed his switchblade. A deft motion on the lock, and it was out. Bill tried to deflect the blow, but the blade found flesh; and then ripped through it, releasing a shower of blood before it became buried in flesh. Zach then pulled it up and out then stepped back, looking him over. He had a gaping wound in his belly, and his intestines were spilling out, along with a rather large pool of blood. He looked up at him, and then spat up a mouthful of blood, before collapsing and writhing. Taking the knife, Zach finished the job, stabbing him several times in the back before burying the knife to the hilt in his neck, then pulling it out and watching the body go limp, the blood having become a rather large puddle around him.
Zach then ran to the gun, grabbed it, then made a run for it. The adrenaline, the blood rush, the sheer excitement and horror of it had ahold of him… It was an amazing drug, but he knew the Red acid was better. This was good, but the Red acid was a gift from God.
In this haze, he remembered he had to meet Vince somewhere… But fuck that. He was going to go get cleaned up. He knew a crack house where he could wash up and get some new clothes, and began running towards it, looking back to see if anyone was following him.
Nobody was, so he began running again, only to find a car swerve in front of him. Vince got out, with a gleeful smile on his face, followed by Metal man.
“Nice fucking work man… But you didn’t meet me in the alleyway,” He said with that evil grin.
“I… Where’s the Red Acid…” Zach asked desperately.
“Right here…” Vince said, tossing it at Zach. Zach managed to catch the needle without stabbing himself with it, and put it in his bag.
“Good…” Zach said, then pulled out the submachine gun. He noted Vince’s shocked expression…
He felt the red feeling he had felt earlier rise, and he emptied the clip.
Vince maintained the shocked expression, then began to giggle.
“You fuckhead… I was amazed you killed him with that… It was full of blanks, you stupid fuck! You were a message; ‘give me my money.’ That’s all you were… Now, Metal man, he’s all yours!” Vince screamed, his left eye twitching.
Metal man lunged towards Zach, but the entire time Zach had been seeing red things. Not the Red acid, no, this was another type of red… This was an angry red, this was a bloody red… This was not the Red acid, but this was pretty damn good.
Metal man lunged, Zach dodged out of the way and grabbed his oversized mask, and gave it a yank.
It came off all right, along with a good part of Metal Man’s face. Looking at the mask, it was covered in various razors and needles. Zach finally knew why Metal Man was so sadistic.
Deprived of his mask. Metal man was now on the ground, covering his bleeding face. Taking a look at the mask, it was covered in blood, and there was a small eyeball hanging off one of the razors. Visibly repulsed, Zach shook it off.
Vince saw this, however, and a look covered his face.
“Awesome!” He said, grinning at the eyeball as it landed at his feet, “Fucking awesome…”
He was too busy gawking at the eyeball to see Zach lunging at him with the mask. Suddenly, he saw a shadow fall over him, and the next second, the oversized mask and all it’s horrible implements was fastened on his face. While on Metal man it caused excruciating pain, on Vince the face plate was so large, one of the larger razors slammed directly into his brain.
Vince shuddered, then fell to the ground, blood pouring from behind the mask.
Zach grinned, the took out the red acid as he looked at the two victims, Metal man, the tortured torturer, now on the ground in a puddle of his own blood, and Vince, the sadist prince, wearing the mask of pain. The drugs had not drowned out Zach’s sense of irony, and he enjoyed this. Looking lovingly at the Red acid, he pulled up his sleeve, and plunged in the needle.
He felt the rush, and then heard a noise.
It was a cracking noise. Not quite a hallucination, not yet…
The world seemed to go slow motion as he turned around to see a man on the third floor… one of Vince’s bouncers… with a rifle… There was a strange sensation… Not pain, just a missing feeling, in his chest. Zach looked down to see a large wound in his chest, bleeding profusely. He let out a groan, and yet it was a euphoric groan from the joy that was the Red acid.
A gentle smile crossed his face as he collapsed to the ground in a puddle of red, red blood, red acid, red, red, red.
Suddenly he opened his eyes. He was in an apartment… Not his own, but it looked so familiar. Suddenly, it hit him… A hangover, the morning after effect, and a few other chemically induced downs. He put his hand over his eyes, and realization of his location came to him; Angela’s apartment. What was he doing here…? Furthermore…
He checked his chest.
No blood, no wound… Nothing. Hell, he was wearing the same clothes, but they weren’t bloody. What was he doing on Angela’s couch…?
“Ugghhhh… Angela…?” He moaned.
His little angel, as he used to call her, walked in wearing her bathrobe.
“Oh, you’re up. God, you’re a stupid idiot, you should know better than to drink while on rosebuds. You passed out like a little prick after your second drink. I had to get David to help me get you here…” Angela said, brushing one of her longer strands of blue dyed hair out of her eyes.
“Wait… What? What about Vince and… The Metal man?” Zach moaned.
“What? Vince looked at you and commented that you looked like you were having a great time… Metal man… What the fuck? He wasn’t there last night… What’s in that Rosebud anyway…?” Angela said, rolling her eyes.
“Shit… Whatever it is… I’m pretty fucked up…” Zach moaned.
“Yeah… Now that you’re up, you should go home, I gotta get back to work.” Angela said.
“Angela… Why?” Zach said, removing his hands from his pain filled eyes. He saw her pause, then take on a distant look on her face.
“Because… Oh I don’t know… Of all the customers… You’re the one I loved. Four years ago… You told me you loved me, and I told you I loved you… I still do, even if you’re a fucked up junkie and I’m a slut… In this world, that’s all we have.” Angela said, kissing him softly on the mouth.
“Now get out of my apartment, I have some work to do.”
Zach wandered down the street to his apartment at a leisurely pace.
You know, maybe life wasn’t so bad…
Then the second round of the hangover hit.
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