"You think you own me? Is that what this is about?" William questioned aloud. He paused for a few moments and continued shaking and twitching. "I don't need you!" he said through gritted teeth. His hands ran across his temples, fingernails biting into his shaved scalp. "Fuck you!" he seethed as he finally pushed himself to his feet. The room spun ever so slightly, reminding the man that he needed to eat; yet another string holding him up.
William pulled a simple black shirt over his heavily scarred, yet very defined torso. Kicking the door open he stood in the doorway, pausing as if reminded of something. One of his legs began to twitch quickly. Finally he balled a fist a smacked the inside of the door frame. With an angry glare and now both hands in fists, William crept ever so slowly toward the inhaler. With each step his anger flared, eventually drawing low growls from him.
Addiction won over willpower as William snatched up the metal tube and took a hit. The metal tube hissed its venom into William's lungs. He blinked a few times and looked at the cold metal. He tried to take another hit but there wasn't even a hiss that time. Enraged beyond ration he threw the tube into wall, breaking it into pieces. He screamed at the top of his lungs for as long as he could, emitting a range of responses from the nearby locals. 'Stupid junkie, shut up!' was the common one. Expending the little energy he had left, William collapsed and trembled a while.
Eventually the pain of facial piercings pushing into the floor brought the kultist back to reality. Pushing himself up slowly, William grabbed his cloak and immediately pulled the hood up over his head. The ends of it were frayed and worn with both time and violence. He strode out into the street intent on seeing his pusher contact as the first of the day's agenda. His stomach groaned at him the entire trip though he ignored it further.
The kultist assassin found himself in front of derelict apartment. It was dirty, missing concrete bricks in many places, several windows broken. Many tenants had rather take their chances elsewhere, as crime began to centralize in the empty rooms. As William roamed its halls, he found no families. Instead, wicked parodies of the family dynamic replaced them. Junkies, dealers, gamblers, thieves and whores all made their nests here. William was neither repulsed nor threatened as he went to the fourth floor, 4C specifically. If one were to witness the event from the outside, it would be obvious that the scum of the building were, in fact, repulsed and threatened by William's presence.
The 4 had long since disappeared leaving behind a dirty outline of itself beside the C. A single knock was answered with a, "The fuck is it?" The kultist's hood covered his raised eyebrow. "William. I'm buying." The door unlatched and slowly opened to reveal a thin punk 20-something with a modified Class 1 Ordnance. It had a long clip, easily doubling the number of available rounds. William knew this kid would fill him will bullets if he gave him an opportunity. The punk backed off, allowing entrance. As he walked inside, William he made straight for his pusher. The contact was a portly man, easily 100 lbs. overweight with greasy, slicked back hair and a thin goatee.
"Well if it ain't the old man, back for more Crucible. Am I right, old man?" taunted the hefty man. "I'm not that old. Just give me another fucking inhaler," William demanded. "Woah there chief, let's calm down, alright? So there's been a lots of raids recently; someone got promoted if ya know what I mean? You get cubes or nothing. You fucking get that old man?" replied the pusher, this time less than amused.
William grit his teeth and glared from behind his hood. "Fine, as long as its not cut with-" "Fuck off, you know I sell you the purest shit I got. You're the only one that buys it..." "Excuse me for not wanting to trip in three dimensions too; I can hardly fucking handle one dimension. Just... give me sixty cubes."
The pusher almost questioned William's ability to pay but thought better of it. He could feel the 'murderer for hire' vibe emanating. The large man's meaty fingers squeezed the ironically tiny, metal cubes as he handled the order. Handing over a larger metal box to William, the man's pudgy digits punched a series of numbers into a credstick. "4500 creds." The kultist pulled out a reformatted credstick and slide the devices together, taking the box with the other hand. As the pusher's credstick cleared the transaction, William had made his way to the door.
As he stepped through the door, William stopped and pulled down his hood. He turned and stared at the punk that guarded the door like a faithful hound, still baring his 'teeth'. William stared at him, turning his head in a maniacal glare. His colorless irises and facial disfigurements gave the correct impression as the punk took a step back, disgust clear on his face. Pulling the hood back up, William strode the building with purpose in his steps.
William exited the den of scum and hit the street. He made his way home quickly, making sure he wasn't followed as best he could. He was more concerned about inspecting his merchandise in private. Inside, he kicked the door shut and dropped down in the middle of the floor. He pushed some of the trash out of the way and turned up the lights. Pouring the contents of the large box onto a table William began to look at the small cubes carefully, finally deciding all was well. As he opened a cube and lifted it to his nose he heard a sound; his door opening. He looked, making sure not to spill his precious drug.
"Oh, please don't let me stop you. Here, let's both get high," said a voice. A woman wearing a see-through, tight-fitting dress with black latex over the naughty areas in a sparing amount. Beneath the dress, black lingerie accompanied with black latex thigh-high boots. She wore her dark, brunette hair in short pig-tails with large black bows. She was pretty and had blue eyes.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing!?" William shouted. "Calm down, calm down, I'm just here to talk," she replied. "Seriously, I didn't mean to stop you. I thought it might ease you if we both do something," she added. In a fit of rage, William snorted two of the cubes. Tranquility washed over the kultist and he was able to be himself once again.
The woman had taken a seat across the small table and pulled out a small box of her own. Inside was her stash, filled with patches of Nueroacid, Beetles and syringes of Liquid Silver. She immediately slipped a patch onto the inside of her bicep. She smiled at William as his outlines began to become neon and pulse like waves. "Look, obviously you aren't here to kill me. You realize I can kill without notice. That's smart. Walking into a killer's lair, isn't. I'll ask once. Why are you here?" William asked. "Can't a mysterious killer have a mysterious mistress?" she playfully taunted. William raised an eyebrow.
Morning came soon enough as William was awoken by a frisky and kinky woman named Whisper. William was sure her name came with ulterior motives but he didn't mind. She rolled on top of him and kissed on his neck a bit.
"So lover, can you tell me why you killed my pet? And don't tell me you don't remember Telly. Hard to forget a man-sized spider what spits acid." Whisper was no longer playful.
Fan-fiction for Obsidian: The Age of Judgement
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