[center][IMG]http://www.auplod.com/u/dpauol4a003.png[/IMG][/center] The dealer was a skinny bastard, though decently dressed and clean. He nodded habitually in conversation, bobbing his head as Taylor approached. “Been waiting to hear from Nan,” He said, nervously glancing around and stepping toward Taylor, out of the streetlight. “Got a new shipment of Hypo for your better-paying customers. They got Icon envy, just give ‘em this. Gives you a nice little rush for a couple minutes, but I’d be careful with the dosage, it gets you fucked up quick.” -- Nan cursorily checked over the goods when Taylor brought them back; it was a gesture and they both knew it, though it had become so ingrained after years of distrust that they saw no reason to stop. “Good stuff this guy’s peddling. Where’d he get it?” Nan scanned over each vial, making sure they were sealed and full. Taylor admired the clarity of the vials the dealer had managed to pack into the slim, concealable box. The needles would have to be provided, but she figured Nan could damn well sell this shit as enemas and people would buy. Everybody wanted a little power, even if it wouldn’t last. Taylor stood awkwardly by the box, recalling the poisonous taste of pills on her tongue, before she remembered Nan had asked her something. [color=b80000]“Uhh, prob’ly through the Coats. They don’t got too many people, but they’re selective.”[/color] “Oh. Well, better say goodbye to batches like this. The Coats won’t last.” Nan carefully tucked the doses away, sliding open the stash compartment behind the microwave and putting them away until she can deliver them to her club. She wiped her palms on her shirt and set to serving the cake she’d promised for dessert. [color=b80000]”Any reason why?”[/color] “There’s a whole lot of stuff brewing with the gangs, from what I’ve been hearing, which means little homebrew groups like the Coats are screwed. Keep your eye out, cuz’ if anything’s going down I want your buddy Maverick to put a stop to it. You and I both know a war would fuck business for months.” She stuck a fork in her portion of the cake slice. [color=b80000]”Yeah, yeah, I’ll crack some skulls if it keeps the peace. You gotta fix my suit though, I’m not looking like some thrift shop Supe.”[/color] Taylor grabbed her plate, suddenly wondering why May wasn’t in the room. She turned to Nan, poised to ask, and shut up when she saw the older woman’s cold expression. “You’re not looking like any Supe, got it? That’s not what I made the costume for.” She set the cake down and frowned into the floor, any by her expression Taylor could tell she was thinking of her sister, killed in some hero’s fight. Taylor scratched at the back of her calf with a toe, refusing to apologize but feeling a heat creep up her face. She grabbed May’s slice of cake and made her way to her room. The door was closed, and Taylor’s eyes met the scribbled-in gaze of a princess from a coloring book, torn out and taped up. [color=b80000]”Maaay! I got my hands full of cake, open the door!”[/color] Her playful tone was met with sharp silence, making her frown and abandon the plates on the hallway table. [color=b80000]”May? You know I hate the quiet game, c’mon.”[/color] She opened the door, and was immediately met with a bullet, straight to the gut. The table toppled over as she fell back on it and Nan’s scream rang out a thousand miles beneath the sea. Consciousness washed away like the tide sucking back into the ocean, and the lights dimmed.