Thread: Sweet Repose (SevenxPretty)

Darkness, reassuring darkness - it was the time that they all came out, the time when the conservative retreated into the relative safety of their gated, suburban homes and spent the evening inside while all of the creatures of the night would emerge and go on the prowl for the things it took to sate their appetites. Most of them were the sort that had traded in a life of normalcy for a life of night, preferring the filthy, uncomplicated lives that the street offered them some of them did it because they realized that they could make more money illegally than they could make honestly. It was why every back alley, every side alley was littered with hookers of every shape, age, size, and colour - for a small fee they would give their client anything they wanted, fulfill their most twisted desires, and in return they would have the money to buy what they needed - what they craved. Then there were the conservatives who stepped out of their homes just once in a while, shedding the life of a man with a wife and kids and a mortgage to pay, or leaving behind the husband so they could go in search of something darker that they could never ask their partner to provide. Everyone had a little darkness in them - what better way to get it out than with one of the willing, scantily clad hookers? There were so many different kinds of freaks that were crawling the streets at night, all of them looking for the next hit, the next thrill, the next orgasm, the next thing to make them feel a little more alive, to drown out the apathy or to make them forget how deeply in debt they were - to forget that, perhaps, the Repo Man would be coming for them soon. And in the end, they all ended up in one spot in front of the Graverobber. Sure, the girls offered a few minutes of blissful pleasure - something he had experienced a few times himself, and he had every respect for their tenured, uh, trade - but he provided so much more, he provided liquid relief injected directly into the nervous system and he was the best at what he did. There weren't a lot of dealers who lasted as long as Graverobber did after a while, they all got shot by GENcops, caught in flangrante with their hand deep in a grave. Usually their careers were so short-lived that no one had ever bothered to assign names to them, but Graverobber had an uncanny knack for his job, he was possessed of a peculiar panache when it came to digging up his sources and avoiding the authorities. He had been doing it for years and he'd never even suffered a single bulletwound despite the fact he sometimes made a suicidal game of taunting them he always got away unscathed. And that was why they all came to him if he had lived this long, he had to be good and there was a comfort for the junkies to come to the same guy again and again, and Graverobber made no attempts to scare them like some of the other drug dealers. In fact, he was friendly, agreeable even - because he had long ago learned that a calm customer was one that was likely to have a good trip, likely to come back to him. Not that he needed to worry these days his reputation had secured him a broad customer base, one that extended across the city and had hailed him as the most reliable source of their 21st century cure, Zydrate. Biologically produced, personally removed, Graverobber sold the good, raw stuff, not the watered down swill that GeneCo sold Graverobber was practically the sole reason that the Zydrate Rehabilitation Program had been initiated - well, him and Amber Sweet. It had turned out that Rotti Largo wasn't a fan of being embarrassed by his precious little girl's repeated failures to show on stage, and he'd pushed her into the program, deciding that if she couldn't be the next face for GeneCo, she could be the fact for the drug centre. And why not - she was so pumped full of Graverobber's product that he was sure she would bleed blue these days some of them didn't know when to stop, and with her unlimited resources, Amber Sweet had been one of them. But since the program had started, he hadn't seen Amber for a while, to the point where Graverobber even found himself questioning if, perhaps, she had actually managed to kick the Glow habit - he hadn't been concerned about the rehab program, those sorts of things never worked, but if a notorious junkie like Sweet could be convinced to give it up, he wondered what it meant for some of the others. But on that particular night, it was clearer than ever that his business wasn't about to run out it had been a steady evening, and he'd had to turn to his back-up stockpile of Z to cover the demand - he still had a few vials, but it was going down at such a rapid rate that he was sure he would have to go for a second round in the mass grave that night. Though for now, he found himself satisfied by the situation he was in one of his favourite backalleys, and his arms and chest were draped with women drugged up, mewling things who spun his hair around their fingers and tugged on his shirt, even groped him on occasion - but he'd been through this so often that it had long ago stopped being erotic. It was just part of the job most of these girls were exactly the same.