Honestly, Albert hadn’t known what to expect. When the words ‘Black Market’ came to mind, images of dimly lit halls and cloaked figures were in the forefront of any thoughts. But sadly, even this little fantasy of his was quickly thrown out the window.
After being frisked by the scary looking men out front, they had been ushered into the warehouse. The area was brightly lit with rows upon rows of tents with varying quality. For some the fabric looked like it would be in better company in the outdoors under heavy rain, while for others it was safe to say they just took some old sheets and put poles underneath them.
No one wore cloaks nor masks, making his efforts useless. And judging from the softly chuckling woman besides him, she was already well aware of the situation.
“Don’t give me that look.” Willow chided, not looking in slightest bit apologetic in the least,” You did all that by yourself, who am I too correct my customers?”
Grumbling softly, Albert turned his vision from side to side hoping to just spot the scamming catalog holder in question. At least one set of the expectations had been met with tonight’s visit, everyone looked shifty as hell. Everyone just kept their heads down as they quietly talked and bargain with vendors for a variety of items. Primarily drugs if he was being honest. White powder in small plastic packets, greenish purple balls of fiber and even some needles still in their manufactured packaging.
But just from his position, he could already see a rather large crowd gathering near the back of the warehouse. While curiosity did somewhat grip him, one of the rules Willow had told him just before entering tamped down on his nature.
‘Don’t window shop…’
With that in mind, Albert eyes caught on singular ‘stall’….Okay maybe calling a simple, everyday fold-able table a stall was a bit too generous. While the white plastic contraption did look new or at least well taken care of, it just didn’t seem to belong aesthetically. Normally such a simple looking set up would be completely dismissed out of hand. What really caught his eye was the little stack of papers off to the attendees side.
‘Bingo.’
And with purpose, he led his silent protector over to the stall in question. Trying to emulate the relaxed stance and gate of Willow was a bit of a chore. Back straight, eyes forward and an unhurried walk. Hoping that it somewhat made it seem like he knew exactly what he was doing. Before long, they both stopped in front the attendee who looked up from whatever he was doing on his phone.
The man wasn’t anything special, bland in fact. Short brown hair, slightly tanned skin and a rather average looking frame hidden under a puffy brown jacket and jeans. His bored looking brown eyed gaze bore a whole through the pair, as if he was nothing but air.
“I wish to rent a catalog.”
Albert didn’t really see a reason to stay in such a place for any extended amount of time and just ripping the band-aid off seemed like a much better idea then trying to dance around socially. They both knew why he was here.
“A hundred bucks.” The man said in monotone,” Return it before you leave and get fifty bucks back.”
‘A security deposit for a piece of paper?’
“That’s fine.”
The disguised teen lied through his teeth. Even if he got back half of what he spent, it was still a simply ludicrous price. If that was the true cost of not attracting trouble then so be it, his wallet would recover eventually once all this was settled anyway. So, after wishing goodbye to his hard earned cash, he slid a tri fold brochure off the table.
Turning, Albert examined the menu taking note of the plastic feeling material under his fingers. It was anything overly designed. Having a light blue background gave off a more business casual feeling to it all. The items and locations completely shattered that atmosphere with a crawling sensation up his spine.
‘Recreational drugs over-by Vendor #2. Quality approved by the Grey Consortium.’ He silently read,’ At least I now know what the name of the organization..’
Continuing his scan, he bypassed a variety of different rather exotic entries.
‘Endangered animals, Dubious human organs, Forged documents, Paintings, Sculptures, etc.’
Honestly, they had a bit of everything under the sun. And the more he read, the urge to flee into the night with his tail tucked between his legs only increased. It seems there was some kind of sense with the current set up. If the first thing possible customers saw were human organs on the display, everyone would just flee screaming. Good thing that such...exotic material was located in the far back.
‘Ah,’ The teen sighed in relief as he finally overcame his curiosity and dragged his eyes back up the list,’ There it is…Fire Arms and Ammunition..’
Albert allowed his feet to lead Willow pass a multitude of stalls that slowly but surely got more and more ‘exotic’ as the pair went. Just before they could stumble across something that might cause him to expel his last couple rather meager meals, he finally found exactly what he had been looking for this entire time.
Guns. Fire Arms. Boom sticks. The grand equalizer. Whatever some people might call them. Old school bolt action rifles. Shotguns. Pistols. Magnums. The list went on. Hell, he even spotted a few obviously military grade sub machine guns hanging upon their vaunted throne behind the vendor.
The attendee looked dangerous as all get out. Large in all ways. A tall, imposing frame carrying an absolute mountain of muscles. Visible tattoos stretched and dance across any speck of exposed skin. The white tank top visibly strained at the results of many days of sweat, blood and tears. The man scowled at the two in kind, harsh green eyes glaring up from under a thin curtain of black hair.
“What do you want.”
It wasn’t a question, if it was no one would could hear the question mark that was surely suppose to be there. Sounding more akin to a very aggressive statement.
“A handgun.”
Albert replied in a flat tone. It was pretty obvious from his skills which branch of firearms he could even use. Hell, while he knew a sub-machine gun would hit something eventually it would only be after somehow going through multiple magazines. There was no reason to and gain a new weapon based skill at this time. Maybe when he knew that he would be facing foes that wouldn’t blink at a handgun being shoved in their direction.
“What kind.”
The man spoke gruffly, already discarding a large portion of his stock in question.
“Desert Eagle.”
Albert knew this was one of the more powerf-
“No.” The man only scowled deeper, eyeing the obvious lack of mass of the teens’ frame in distaste,” You’re nowhere near strong enough. The kickback alone will leave you with a busted lip, at the best.”
The teen had to admit when he was beaten with cold, hard logic. He already knew his noodle arms wouldn’t be able to handle such a beast yet, but just the idea of having one of the more anime/action movie-esque weapons would’ve been so visually appealing. But that’s all it would be good for.
After his childhood dreams were thoroughly trampled upon, he began to actually think.
‘What do I need?’ He asked himself, resisting the urge to rub his own chin,’ Something powerful enough to put down someone if needed. Primarily thugs but given their tendency to gather in numbers, something automatic is needed. The bullets also need to be something not too difficult to get, so none of the rarer guns like the 41 or a flintlock. Also it needs to be something small and easy to conceal in either jeans or in my trench coat. So I can do away with the bulkier models. That leaves….’
“9mm Revolver?”
It not only dealt a lot of damage but it was also small enough to conceal in almost anything. And while he would much prefer the rather famous Desert Eagle, he had to acquiesce to his own temporary physical limitations.
“Fine.” The man took out three different models with a little bit less scorn,” Choose from these and see which one sings.”
Albert wasn’t even going to question the weird gun vendor choice of words, there would always be eccentrics in any line of work.
From what he could see, all three handguns looked to be religiously maintained and glistened under the overhead lights. The black metal frame cradled a tumbler of doom, ending in an incredibly short barrel. Wooden grips of differing colors and types were the only distinguishing feature that separated the nearly identical looking weapons.
Picking one up, he immediately recognized the amount of heft the weapon demanded. It’s deep brown grip still had the remnants of its origins. Hints of the tree’s cylinder open not in the slightest bit surprised it being unloaded. The smell of oil filled his nose. Flipping it close, he palmed the gun in question. Allowing the weight and shape to slide into his hand. While it did make him feel powerful in a way, especially with his Professional tiered Handgun skill pulsating in turn with his slow heart beats, it just didn’t instantly click for him. Sure he got the feeling that it could grow on him but not without some slight alterations. The grip itself was a bit too long and the trigger guard didn’t completely acclimatize itself to his thin fingers.
Putting that one side with a shake of his head, Albert picked up the second revolver and tried to feel it’s pinkish grip hold firm in his palm. Feel the respectful weight of the weapon in question. The cold metal running across pointer finger, completely taking in the gun for exactly what it was.
‘Sudden, loud death.’
And while the gun did sit more comfortably on his palm than the previous one, he still got the feeling that it would still take some time for him to break in this revolver. The stock digging comfortably in.
Not being a man to not try everything available, the teen set aside the gun before picking up the third and final weapon. It’s lighter brown grim dug deep into his hand, thin fingers easily wrapping themselves around the cold stock. The respectable heft didn’t seem to brother him in the least, honestly it felt like he was merely using an extension of his own body. Nothing dug into places it shouldn’t, nor did his digits slip under the trigger. It suited him perfectly.
Too perfectly in fact. This gun didn’t require anything at all from him, no scrapes nor any need to adjust on his part. Maybe now it would be akin to an extension but what about in a year? He didn’t know how his future physical development would change things for him. Would he grow longer fingers? What if they were chubby? Too short? Maybe his palm would explode in size to the point where his finger would constantly be rubbing itself raw against the trigger guard.
If he knew for sure that he wouldn’t be growing anymore then this revolver would be too good to pass up. Albert has always been a somewhat sentimental person. It’s why he kept bent and faded cards from his childhood and why he wouldn’t no couldn’t simply replace a companion that he had simply outgrown.
With a reluctant sigh, he set the siren masquerading as a gun to the side and instead pick up the revolver with a pinkish grip. It would not only be useful for him now but also in the future after this body had finished growing completely.
“I’ll take this one.”
Albert said with finality, coming back to the world from his impromptu meditation session. The man only nodded solemnly before swiping away the two remaining weapons back out of reach.
“How many rounds do you want?”
The gunsmith asked, already reaching down beneath the stall. The jingling sound of metal casing crashing together filled the pair’s ears. Anticipation filled the air as the question settled in the teen’s mind.
If he was being completely honest, carrying more than two extra rounds on him was just nonsensical. Primarily due to the fact that he had no current home to store anymore than that. Sure maybe he would come back after getting a semi permanent place and just buy a boxful of ammo no problem.
“Three sounds good enough.”
He said confidently, already thinking of the many pockets he could conceal them in. Just the image of him in a trench coat and fedora before whipping out a handgun before throwing down in a gunfight was already beginning to settle in his mind.
Oblivious to the teen’s fantasy, the gunsmith placed down a small cardboard box that jingled in kind. Large, meaty hands easily engulfed the item as he silently stared a whole in the boy’s direction.
“I don’t sell anything less than a whole box, fifty rounds. That’ll be three hundred and sixty dollars.” Seeing the teen open his mouth, he quickly growled,” No bargaining. Take it or leave it.”
Inwardly, he winced at the rather steep price. While he did take out a lot of money for tonight’s trip, it was still a harsh blow to his finances. Side eyeing the relaxed looking Willow at his side, he figured the man wasn’t trying to gouge him too hard. After reluctantly handing the sour gunsmith the money and receiving the large box full of ammo, Albert finally felt a degree of safety he hadn’t felt sense coming to this world. Sliding both the box and the gun in the inner pockets of his trench coat, he nodded at the man before turn back towards the exit. Everything he wanted to do tonight was already finish and frankly, he saw nothing on the list within his budget or interest.
But a sudden angry shout caught his attention, turning his head slightly he saw the crowd slowly ripple around a single stall. The stall in question wasn’t like any of the others, where as they tried to be as low-key as possible this was very visibly bombastic. The soft music coming from it sounded loud in the quiet warehouse, it’s bright pink neon lights caught the eye completely. Outlining a single sign that shone brightly.
‘The Neon Monastery..?’
Men and woman from all paths of life stood huddle up in a rough approximation of an orderly line. Seeming to literally be slathering at the mouth to get at whatever that stall had. Curiosity badgered at Albert’s mind and while previously he could ignore it due to his own safety being first, now that he had something to protect himself it didn’t seem so bad to indulge. Just this once at least.
Stepping closer to the end of the line, he tried to strain himself above the crowd to at least get a look at the product that got these folk so up in arms.
“The Neon Monastery?”
Willow murmured, giving the vendor in question a rather dubious stare.
“Do you know of them?”
Albert asked, after failing to get a good look at whatever was on sale.
“Of course I do.” She clicked her teeth in distaste,” They’re a somewhat new gang known for their sexual performance enhancing drugs, I think they call it...hmmm…”
“It’s called ‘Sap of the Bodhi’,” A rather helpful man said from in front of them,” It’s said to make it so men and woman can go at it all night long.”
“That doesn’t sound…” Albert tried to think of a polite way of saying what’s on his mind,” Safe? Aren’t you concerned for heart problems?”
“Nah.” The man shook his head,” My friend is a doctor and he assured me that there’s no problems like that. Just need to make sure you're properly hydrated is all.”
“While the drug itself isn’t addictive,” The statuesque woman griped,” The sex itself is, it can turn people into nymphos.”
“I’ve heard a lot of people bragging about being nymphomaniacs all the time,” Albert added,” What’s the difference.”
“There’s a massive difference between people enjoying sex a lot, and an actual nympho.” Willow lectured,” Like all addictions, going cold turkey will cause your body to go into shock. It’ll constantly be on your mind, whispering sweet nothings in your ear until you eventually give in. But regular sex won’t work to stave off the itch, only under the influence with their needs to be met. It’s an insanely insidious drug.”
“So I shouldn’t get it?” The man visibly sweat after the woman’s detailed and ominous description,” I was just going to try some with my girl for her birthday, you know one night of mind blowing sex..”
“Taking it once or twice won’t be too much a problem.” She shrugged, cocking her hip to the side,” Just don’t overdue it and only get enough for a singular dose for each of you. Else you’ll be out of commission for days with sore private bits.”
“Thanks.” The man said in relief,” You had me scared for a minute there. If I may ask, how do you know so much?”
“Because,” Willow spat,” A couple of my clients tried to get me to try some. And let me tell you, it’s not nearly as fun when only one partner is on the drug.”
“Oh..OH!” He nodded at first before his eyes shot wide open as he took in her words, sending a glance down at the make-up covered man and back to the brown skinned woman before blurting out the first words that came to his mouth,” You’re a hooker!”
“Come on Lovecraft.” She tugged at Albert’s arm,” You don’t want anything to do with The Neon Monastery.”
“Yeah.” The teen nodded, allowing her to pull him back towards the exit. The flashing neon lights like a predatory flower, sending out a sickening sweet aroma only to reveal thick, sticky sap.
Honestly, Albert hadn’t known what to expect. When the words ‘Black Market’ came to mind, images of dimly lit halls and cloaked figures were in the forefront of any thoughts. But sadly, even this little fantasy of his was quickly thrown out the window.
After being frisked by the scary looking men out front, they had been ushered into the warehouse. The area was brightly lit with rows upon rows of tents with varying quality. For some the fabric looked like it would be in better company in the outdoors under heavy rain, while for others it was safe to say they just took some old sheets and put poles underneath them.
No one wore cloaks nor masks, making his efforts useless. And judging from the softly chuckling woman besides him, she was already well aware of the situation.
“Don’t give me that look.” Willow chided, not looking in slightest bit apologetic in the least,” You did all that by yourself, who am I too correct my customers?”
Grumbling softly, Albert turned his vision from side to side hoping to just spot the scamming catalog holder in question. At least one set of the expectations had been met with tonight’s visit, everyone looked shifty as hell. Everyone just kept their heads down as they quietly talked and bargain with vendors for a variety of items. Primarily drugs if he was being honest. White powder in small plastic packets, greenish purple balls of fiber and even some needles still in their manufactured packaging.
But just from his position, he could already see a rather large crowd gathering near the back of the warehouse. While curiosity did somewhat grip him, one of the rules Willow had told him just before entering tamped down on his nature.
‘Don’t window shop…’
With that in mind, Albert eyes caught on singular ‘stall’….Okay maybe calling a simple, everyday fold-able table a stall was a bit too generous. While the white plastic contraption did look new or at least well taken care of, it just didn’t seem to belong aesthetically. Normally such a simple looking set up would be completely dismissed out of hand. What really caught his eye was the little stack of papers off to the attendees side.
‘Bingo.’
And with purpose, he led his silent protector over to the stall in question. Trying to emulate the relaxed stance and gate of Willow was a bit of a chore. Back straight, eyes forward and an unhurried walk. Hoping that it somewhat made it seem like he knew exactly what he was doing. Before long, they both stopped in front the attendee who looked up from whatever he was doing on his phone.
The man wasn’t anything special, bland in fact. Short brown hair, slightly tanned skin and a rather average looking frame hidden under a puffy brown jacket and jeans. His bored looking brown eyed gaze bore a whole through the pair, as if he was nothing but air.
“I wish to rent a catalog.”
Albert didn’t really see a reason to stay in such a place for any extended amount of time and just ripping the band-aid off seemed like a much better idea then trying to dance around socially. They both knew why he was here.
“A hundred bucks.” The man said in monotone,” Return it before you leave and get fifty bucks back.”
‘A security deposit for a piece of paper?’
“That’s fine.”
The disguised teen lied through his teeth. Even if he got back half of what he spent, it was still a simply ludicrous price. If that was the true cost of not attracting trouble then so be it, his wallet would recover eventually once all this was settled anyway. So, after wishing goodbye to his hard earned cash, he slid a tri fold brochure off the table.
Turning, Albert examined the menu taking note of the plastic feeling material under his fingers. It was anything overly designed. Having a light blue background gave off a more business casual feeling to it all. The items and locations completely shattered that atmosphere with a crawling sensation up his spine.
‘Recreational drugs over-by Vendor #2. Quality approved by the Grey Consortium.’ He silently read,’ At least I now know what the name of the organization..’
Continuing his scan, he bypassed a variety of different rather exotic entries.
‘Endangered animals, Dubious human organs, Forged documents, Paintings, Sculptures, etc.’
Honestly, they had a bit of everything under the sun. And the more he read, the urge to flee into the night with his tail tucked between his legs only increased. It seems there was some kind of sense with the current set up. If the first thing possible customers saw were human organs on the display, everyone would just flee screaming. Good thing that such...exotic material was located in the far back.
‘Ah,’ The teen sighed in relief as he finally overcame his curiosity and dragged his eyes back up the list,’ There it is…Fire Arms and Ammunition..’
Albert allowed his feet to lead Willow pass a multitude of stalls that slowly but surely got more and more ‘exotic’ as the pair went. Just before they could stumble across something that might cause him to expel his last couple rather meager meals, he finally found exactly what he had been looking for this entire time.
Guns. Fire Arms. Boom sticks. The grand equalizer. Whatever some people might call them. Old school bolt action rifles. Shotguns. Pistols. Magnums. The list went on. Hell, he even spotted a few obviously military grade sub machine guns hanging upon their vaunted throne behind the vendor.
The attendee looked dangerous as all get out. Large in all ways. A tall, imposing frame carrying an absolute mountain of muscles. Visible tattoos stretched and dance across any speck of exposed skin. The white tank top visibly strained at the results of many days of sweat, blood and tears. The man scowled at the two in kind, harsh green eyes glaring up from under a thin curtain of black hair.
“What do you want.”
It wasn’t a question, if it was no one would could hear the question mark that was surely suppose to be there. Sounding more akin to a very aggressive statement.
“A handgun.”
Albert replied in a flat tone. It was pretty obvious from his skills which branch of firearms he could even use. Hell, while he knew a sub-machine gun would hit something eventually it would only be after somehow going through multiple magazines. There was no reason to and gain a new weapon based skill at this time. Maybe when he knew that he would be facing foes that wouldn’t blink at a handgun being shoved in their direction.
“What kind.”
The man spoke gruffly, already discarding a large portion of his stock in question.
“Desert Eagle.”
Albert knew this was one of the more powerf-
“No.” The man only scowled deeper, eyeing the obvious lack of mass of the teens’ frame in distaste,” You’re nowhere near strong enough. The kickback alone will leave you with a busted lip, at the best.”
The teen had to admit when he was beaten with cold, hard logic. He already knew his noodle arms wouldn’t be able to handle such a beast yet, but just the idea of having one of the more anime/action movie-esque weapons would’ve been so visually appealing. But that’s all it would be good for.
After his childhood dreams were thoroughly trampled upon, he began to actually think.
‘What do I need?’ He asked himself, resisting the urge to rub his own chin,’ Something powerful enough to put down someone if needed. Primarily thugs but given their tendency to gather in numbers, something automatic is needed. The bullets also need to be something not too difficult to get, so none of the rarer guns like the 41 or a flintlock. Also it needs to be something small and easy to conceal in either jeans or in my trench coat. So I can do away with the bulkier models. That leaves….’
“9mm Revolver?”
It not only dealt a lot of damage but it was also small enough to conceal in almost anything. And while he would much prefer the rather famous Desert Eagle, he had to acquiesce to his own temporary physical limitations.
“Fine.” The man took out three different models with a little bit less scorn,” Choose from these and see which one sings.”
Albert wasn’t even going to question the weird gun vendor choice of words, there would always be eccentrics in any line of work.
From what he could see, all three handguns looked to be religiously maintained and glistened under the overhead lights. The black metal frame cradled a tumbler of doom, ending in an incredibly short barrel. Wooden grips of differing colors and types were the only distinguishing feature that separated the nearly identical looking weapons.
Picking one up, he immediately recognized the amount of heft the weapon demanded. It’s deep brown grip still had the remnants of its origins. Hints of the tree’s cylinder open not in the slightest bit surprised it being unloaded. The smell of oil filled his nose. Flipping it close, he palmed the gun in question. Allowing the weight and shape to slide into his hand. While it did make him feel powerful in a way, especially with his Professional tiered Handgun skill pulsating in turn with his slow heart beats, it just didn’t instantly click for him. Sure he got the feeling that it could grow on him but not without some slight alterations. The grip itself was a bit too long and the trigger guard didn’t completely acclimatize itself to his thin fingers.
Putting that one side with a shake of his head, Albert picked up the second revolver and tried to feel it’s pinkish grip hold firm in his palm. Feel the respectful weight of the weapon in question. The cold metal running across pointer finger, completely taking in the gun for exactly what it was.
‘Sudden, loud death.’
And while the gun did sit more comfortably on his palm than the previous one, he still got the feeling that it would still take some time for him to break in this revolver. The stock digging comfortably in.
Not being a man to not try everything available, the teen set aside the gun before picking up the third and final weapon. It’s lighter brown grim dug deep into his hand, thin fingers easily wrapping themselves around the cold stock. The respectable heft didn’t seem to brother him in the least, honestly it felt like he was merely using an extension of his own body. Nothing dug into places it shouldn’t, nor did his digits slip under the trigger. It suited him perfectly.
Too perfectly in fact. This gun didn’t require anything at all from him, no scrapes nor any need to adjust on his part. Maybe now it would be akin to an extension but what about in a year? He didn’t know how his future physical development would change things for him. Would he grow longer fingers? What if they were chubby? Too short? Maybe his palm would explode in size to the point where his finger would constantly be rubbing itself raw against the trigger guard.
If he knew for sure that he wouldn’t be growing anymore then this revolver would be too good to pass up. Albert has always been a somewhat sentimental person. It’s why he kept bent and faded cards from his childhood and why he wouldn’t no couldn’t simply replace a companion that he had simply outgrown.
With a reluctant sigh, he set the siren masquerading as a gun to the side and instead pick up the revolver with a pinkish grip. It would not only be useful for him now but also in the future after this body had finished growing completely.
“I’ll take this one.”
Albert said with finality, coming back to the world from his impromptu meditation session. The man only nodded solemnly before swiping away the two remaining weapons back out of reach.
“How many rounds do you want?”
The gunsmith asked, already reaching down beneath the stall. The jingling sound of metal casing crashing together filled the pair’s ears. Anticipation filled the air as the question settled in the teen’s mind.
If he was being completely honest, carrying more than two extra rounds on him was just nonsensical. Primarily due to the fact that he had no current home to store anymore than that. Sure maybe he would come back after getting a semi permanent place and just buy a boxful of ammo no problem.
“Three sounds good enough.”
He said confidently, already thinking of the many pockets he could conceal them in. Just the image of him in a trench coat and fedora before whipping out a handgun before throwing down in a gunfight was already beginning to settle in his mind.
Oblivious to the teen’s fantasy, the gunsmith placed down a small cardboard box that jingled in kind. Large, meaty hands easily engulfed the item as he silently stared a whole in the boy’s direction.
“I don’t sell anything less than a whole box, fifty rounds. That’ll be three hundred and sixty dollars.” Seeing the teen open his mouth, he quickly growled,” No bargaining. Take it or leave it.”
Inwardly, he winced at the rather steep price. While he did take out a lot of money for tonight’s trip, it was still a harsh blow to his finances. Side eyeing the relaxed looking Willow at his side, he figured the man wasn’t trying to gouge him too hard. After reluctantly handing the sour gunsmith the money and receiving the large box full of ammo, Albert finally felt a degree of safety he hadn’t felt sense coming to this world. Sliding both the box and the gun in the inner pockets of his trench coat, he nodded at the man before turn back towards the exit. Everything he wanted to do tonight was already finish and frankly, he saw nothing on the list within his budget or interest.
But a sudden angry shout caught his attention, turning his head slightly he saw the crowd slowly ripple around a single stall. The stall in question wasn’t like any of the others, where as they tried to be as low-key as possible this was very visibly bombastic. The soft music coming from it sounded loud in the quiet warehouse, it’s bright pink neon lights caught the eye completely. Outlining a single sign that shone brightly.
‘The Neon Monastery..?’
Men and woman from all paths of life stood huddle up in a rough approximation of an orderly line. Seeming to literally be slathering at the mouth to get at whatever that stall had. Curiosity badgered at Albert’s mind and while previously he could ignore it due to his own safety being first, now that he had something to protect himself it didn’t seem so bad to indulge. Just this once at least.
Stepping closer to the end of the line, he tried to strain himself above the crowd to at least get a look at the product that got these folk so up in arms.
“The Neon Monastery?”
Willow murmured, giving the vendor in question a rather dubious stare.
“Do you know of them?”
Albert asked, after failing to get a good look at whatever was on sale.
“Of course I do.” She clicked her teeth in distaste,” They’re a somewhat new gang known for their sexual performance enhancing drugs, I think they call it...hmmm…”
“It’s called ‘Sap of the Bodhi’,” A rather helpful man said from in front of them,” It’s said to make it so men and woman can go at it all night long.”
“That doesn’t sound…” Albert tried to think of a polite way of saying what’s on his mind,” Safe? Aren’t you concerned for heart problems?”
“Nah.” The man shook his head,” My friend is a doctor and he assured me that there’s no problems like that. Just need to make sure you're properly hydrated is all.”
“While the drug itself isn’t addictive,” The statuesque woman griped,” The sex itself is, it can turn people into nymphos.”
“I’ve heard a lot of people bragging about being nymphomaniacs all the time,” Albert added,” What’s the difference.”
“There’s a massive difference between people enjoying sex a lot, and an actual nympho.” Willow lectured,” Like all addictions, going cold turkey will cause your body to go into shock. It’ll constantly be on your mind, whispering sweet nothings in your ear until you eventually give in. But regular sex won’t work to stave off the itch, only under the influence with their needs to be met. It’s an insanely insidious drug.”
“So I shouldn’t get it?” The man visibly sweat after the woman’s detailed and ominous description,” I was just going to try some with my girl for her birthday, you know one night of mind blowing sex..”
“Taking it once or twice won’t be too much a problem.” She shrugged, cocking her hip to the side,” Just don’t overdue it and only get enough for a singular dose for each of you. Else you’ll be out of commission for days with sore private bits.”
“Thanks.” The man said in relief,” You had me scared for a minute there. If I may ask, how do you know so much?”
“Because,” Willow spat,” A couple of my clients tried to get me to try some. And let me tell you, it’s not nearly as fun when only one partner is on the drug.”
“Oh..OH!” He nodded at first before his eyes shot wide open as he took in her words, sending a glance down at the make-up covered man and back to the brown skinned woman before blurting out the first words that came to his mouth,” You’re a hooker!”
“Come on Lovecraft.” She tugged at Albert’s arm,” You don’t want anything to do with The Neon Monastery.”
“Yeah.” The teen nodded, allowing her to pull him back towards the exit. The flashing neon lights like a predatory flower, sending out a sickening sweet aroma only to reveal thick, sticky sap.
