That Sweet Vitamin V

[Black Philip]

Reserved for Jesse

Business was booming. Apep had a source of powerful souls coming from Laurent in exchange for a Venom hookup. Now Mitch was bringing him an artifact he clearly didn't understand, at least fully. His name was beginning to slither through the city, and he had clients for his drugs, as well as his black magic store. Last, but not least, demons had begun coming to buy souls, and Apep soon knew he'd be able to move the Sinister Serpents to the city's West district.

The gangs current home was a comfy looking two story that had aluminum side paneling, shuttered windows, and a neat little roof with a chimney. It was a perfectly ordinary, and frankly boring looking home. The grass was mowed and the fence was painted. Various cars were neatly parked in the driveway. It was too perfect, too ordinary, and it was exactly why it was such a good subterfuge.

It was walk in hours, and Apep had already sold two vials of Venom, a soul, and bought a biting treasure chest. It would sell to someone with a gnarly scene of humor. He was counting the coins when his pet cobra, Sutekh, whispered to him.

Another comes, it said in Scarei, and Apep responded to it in their mother tongue. "Have muscle greet this one," Apep instructed. "And search him for weapons."

The snake slithered upstairs, leaving Apep in his basement apartment. His soulwell was sealed in the far right corner. His safe was locked, but in the open, and otherwise his room read college dorm. He was smoking a large green bong, puffing away at Tess's magical weed. He wore jeans, high tops, no shirt, and a long silver necklace. His cobra tattoo was visible on his back. His hair was concealed beneath a black, backwards baseball cap. He was unsure what this new guy would ask for, but Apep prided himself on always having what the customer wanted.

[pentagrandma]

There’d been a buzz about Club Zero of late. Whispers about some new kind of poison; the kind that left a person happier than a dead pig in sunshine. Jesse hadn’t never cared much for those feel-good types of drugs - but after a month of moth-eaten Sundays, he was bent on uncovering some measure of excitement. Could be he’d get something good out of it.

Apep. He’d come by the name easy, and hadn’t had to do much extra digging to pin down the dealer’s whereabouts. He wanted found, it seemed. Jesse could appreciate that recklessness. He wondered what kind of person this Apep would be, or if he were a person at all. He’d soon find out, he reckoned; not that it made much difference either way.

After parking along the curb - a 1966 Chevy Caprice, candy-apple-red with black vinyl top; a real thing of beauty - Jesse took his time moseying up the drive. He paused to pull one last drag from his cigarette, tossing the butt onto the stoop and snuffing it beneath the scuffed-up heel of one brogan boot, then tapped thrice upon the door with the knuckle of his forefinger. He wore denim on denim: faded black jeans, and a washed-out charcoal jacket with its sleeves rolled up to his forearms. The latter was kept open and loose, exposing the heathered-gray crewneck tee beneath.

He was unsurprised to be met with a swift pat-down upon stepping through the threshold; and, unpredictable as ever, was unusually compliant amidst the procedure. “Little warnin’ might’ve been nice,” he drawled, slow and cool, as he lifted up his arms and made a casual half-turn. There were no weapons on him. Weapons weren’t for Jess.

[Black Philip]

The Scarei Tu looked over Jesse with the smoldering degree of scrutiny typical to hired muscle. They weren't overly rough after determining he didn't have weapons. The muscular, and very attractive, body guard pointed to a set of stairs that led to the house's basement. After Jesse descended the wooden stairs he'd emerge into Apep's apartment. The snake demon waited, lounging on his bed, before standing slowly and gracefully. His body moved in an almost musical way, and he ended up extending a hand for a bro-shake. He liked the look of this one, but kept his energy cool and polite.

"You're new," he observed, motioning for Jesse to choose between the bean bag chair and the futon. "My name is Apep and welcome to my business, bro. Were you looking to buy or sell?"

He took a seat back on the bed, crossing his legs and sitting upright, his posture like that of a dancer or acrobat. Music played softly in the background, a sitar and chanting monks. The effect was peaceful.

[pentagrandma]

Jesse met the bro-shake seamlessly; rough fingertips skating over Apep’s in reflexive mimicry. “So’re you,” he countered, moving to seat himself upon the futon. An arm rose to drape casually along the back edge of the cushion as he eased into it, arranging himself into a languid slump.

His gaze was listless; wearing the appearance of having just woken up from a pleasant nap as it swept over the room. However, a flicker of life stirred within his focus as it snapped back toward Apep. Bro. Jesse found he didn’t like that, the familiarity of it, but it wasn’t enough to yet provoke. He spent a quiet moment observing the man’s - no, not a man - liquid way of moving before he spoke next.

“Name’s Jesse,” he announced, words dropping from his mouth with an inflection to match his eyes: drowsy. “Haven’t got nothin’ to sell, unless you’re in the business of buyin’ up used car parts. Somethin’ tells me that ain’t the case.” He leaned forward, then; forearms draped over his knees. Again, there was that manic spark in his gaze as he said, “I hear it told you’ve got some kinda venom.”

[Black Philip]

"Jesse," he said, the s sound turning into a hiss. Sutekh coiled near Apep's feet, looking at the wolf with suspicion. It turned to it's master.

Smells off, it warned, although what exactly it meant Apep didn't know. He couldn't exactly warg into his pet at the moment, but he made sure to approach this new one with caution. Apep listened with displayed interest as Jesse discussed car parts, actually knowing a chop shop that would be interested.

"You're correct to think I don't," he complimented. "I know a guy though who's into that kind of thing. If you like, I can give you his number. Couldn't hurt to have a new contact, right?"

He arched an eyebrow encouragingly. Jesse's other reason for being here was fairly simple. Venom was one his more popular items, and the other Scarei Di had started to bottling their Venom too. It meant giving them a cut of sales, but that's how the market was these days. Apep latched onto Jess'es manic spark like a fishermen casting a line, and drew in his catch with a baited reply.

"Venom is exactly what I have, and it'll give you the rush you're looking for."

He smiled open-mouthed for the first time, revealing a pair of beautiful fangs. "Want a sample before you buy?"

[pentagrandma]

“Couldn’t hurt,” Jesse echoed in response to Apep’s offering of contact details.

He leaned back against the futon, raising his arm to renew his previous positioning. A smile of his own began to curve, slow to form and settling just this side of wicked. “You ain’t got a clue the kinda rush I’m lookin’ for - but alright, I’ll bite.”

His fingertips drummed once along the edge of the cushion; focus zeroing in on those fangs before he queried, “You a vamp?” Anyone else should’ve been able to connect the dots, but our Jess hadn’t never been good at even the simplest of maths.

Snakes + Fangs + Venom = ? ? ?

[Black Philip]

Apep went to an old fashioned Rolodex, flipping through a series of business cards until he came to Pedro, his chop-shop contact. He went towards Jesse, leaning down slightly and extending out the card through his fingertips. He smiled reflectively as Jesse pointed out that Apep didn't know what kind of rush he was looking for, and factually, Jesse was right. Apep didn't know. It was the kind of wisdom that people of the earth held, and Apep wondered if Jesse was as thick in the head as he appeared. Then he guessed Apep's species. His smile increased in length, and Apep used a molar to bite into his cheek to keep from laughing. He was the same good-natured and soft spoken businessmen as before, and he reminded himself that the customer was always right. Anyways, Jesse was biting. That's all a fishermen needed.

"No," he said simply. "Have you ever met a demon?" His tone was careful and casual, like asking for a cup of sugar. He returned to his bed, wondering what Jesse would make of dealing with him now. Sutekh flicked it's tongue nervously and looked to Apep for instructions. Receiving none, it wrapped itself around it's master's shoulders and looked on at Jesse with curiosity.

[pentagrandma]

Jesse accepted the card and tucked it away inside a jacket pocket without sparing it so much as a glance. His study of the demon changed following his query; lashes swept low in reevaluation. There was recognition there, and only the smallest intimation of interest. With as much time as he’d spent at Club Zero, he’d come into contact with more demons than he could count. He’d fought some; fucked some. Didn’t make him any better at picking them out from a crowd. Still, he should’ve known. If the truth’d been a snake (it was), it’d a bit him (it will).

Not that it made any difference. He couldn’t find it in him to care.

... “A few,” he finally replied, downplaying the facts. Likewise, his own response was casual - punctuated with an easy roll of his shoulders.

[Black Philip]

There was something more intriguing about Jesse than the average piece of junkie trash, and Apep knew it went beyond his obvious good looks and surface level charisma. Despite his relaxed attitude, Apep studied the other closely, watching his eyes, lips, hands, and even looked for a tapping in his feet. Apep prided himself on knowing what people wanted, and convincing them that he alone could deliver these wants. What did Jesse want, beyond just getting high? Maybe that's all it was. Apep could respect that simplicity.

He was relieved that his demon status hadn't raised any alarms, or necessitated a long and boring explanation about demons. Considering all the weird species out there, being Scarei was fairly boring, all things considered. The Tu didn't even have venom. He continued on with his explanation.

"I'm a snake demon," he said, dropping the bomb officially. "My body makes this killer drug, just as a part of my biology." He hoped biology wasn't too big of a word. "Because it's a natural toxin, I just started calling it exactly what it is, Venom. What kind of shit you get into normally?"

You could learn a lot about someone from their drug profile. He wondered if Jesse would slam, or if he'd want it from the tap. 

[pentagrandma]

Jesse showed none of your run-of-the-mill signs of addiction or withdrawal. There were no spasms in his face; no sweat on his brow. His hands and feet kept still, and his posture slack. If anything, in his current temperament, one might pin him down as a stoner - but he wasn’t that, either.

True, he’d binged his fair-share of drugs. Not a one of them had ever made the cut. Not a one of them had given him the high he wanted. Not like the change; certainly not like coming back from the brink of death. Nothing ever compared, and he’d given up on searching for something that did. Still, he saw no harm in partaking in some substance or another, every once in a blue moon.

“Well, I’ll be tarred and feathered,” he drawled, tone lacking any of the surprise the phrase was meant to denote. “You a snake demon, huh?” Jesse’s gaze dipped briefly down to the cobra at Apep’s feet. “That one, too?” he asked, with a subtle jerk of his chin in indication.

Again, his fingertips drummed idly along the back edge of the futon. Just once.

... “Ever heard of a place called Club Zero?”

[Black Philip]

Apep showed no great emotion or reaction to Jesse's tarring and feathering ways. People had all manners of speaking, and Apep tried to use his customer's language whenever possible. In this case, he strayed away, as to adapt southern language was too dead on the nose, and would read as fake. Instead, he matched Jesse's apparent simplicity, using one word answers and short phrases to communicate large ideas.

"Yes for me, no for him," he said pointing to Sutekh. "He is a snake, a smart one, but a snake only."

His other question was more curious, and he wondered if he knew what Sutekh had meant earlier. Club Zero was a known wolf den, and indeed he had several customers for V already. He smiled, understanding how Jesse had come to him. He'd have to thank the trash that referred him.

"I've been a few times, and I have a few friends there," he answered, insinuating what kind of friends by drawing attention back to the product, by running his tongue along his fangs. "The death fights are thrilling. We Scarei sometimes take bets."

That was the full extent of his knowledge regarding Club Zero.  He wondered where Jesse was going with this.

[pentagrandma]

There was that slow-forming smile again; though this one stretched far wider than the last. The mere thought of a deathmatch was enough to set Jesse’s heart to racing. His pupils dilated until his irises were no more than narrow rings of avid blue. Yeah, that was the sort of shit he liked to get into. Didn’t matter that he wasn’t ever allowed to keep hold of the memory after; he knew whenever he woke up from a blackout, too many bruises and a fat pile of cash, that he’d killed his opponent. Knowing so was a high in and of itself, and he figured it was worth the good-time anyhow.

“Deathmatches aren’t nothin’ more than rumor,” Jesse lied, allowing a small measure of that mania to color his tone. “But if they did exist, I reckon they’d be more thrilling to take part in.” His brows rose for effect, alluding to his own insinuation. Get it?

[Black Philip]

There it was, the spark that drove a man. For most, it was money, women, greed of one kind or another, but for Jesse it seemed it was violence. The sinister serpent watched as his customers smile grew, and he came alive.  Apep could respect the wolf's choice, even if it wasn't his personal favorite.

Violence was a tool, a powerful one if wielded correctly. However, most abused it and misused it, and it was often their end. Apep smiled darkly at the thought, that if Jesse were to kill him right now in his room, that the other Scarei would make sure nobody would find what was left of this pup. That was how one used violence, to make a point. The death matches served only one purpose to Apep, making him money. The rest was just a waste of energy.

"Of course," he played along, more than happy to provide the needed bullshit. "Yes, if they did exist I'd say they'd provide quite a thrill to a thrill seeker. Know any?"

His words hinted at something, but his body language and facial expression still looked like he was just making small talk. He pet Sutekh softly, drumming his fingers on top of the snake's scaly head.

[pentagrandma]

In spite of Jesse’s apparent penchant for violence - save for wiped-out moments in the arena - he didn’t ever kill without some kind of provocation. Sure, he’d often instigate petty scuffles, but he’d justify his wrongdoings with fingers pointed any which way but toward himself. He’d have to take a solid beating, to cajole his wolf into taking over, before he’d end another’s life. Sometimes, before the pack, he’d done his own sweet-talking with acts of self-harm. Either way, it was out of his hands by then; there was no controlling that side of him, and it wasn't really him anymore, was it? Weren’t his fault if a person died...

But, oh, how he liked it. Every time.

Would if he could run free as a mongrel, let instinct rule his everyday ventures; but rules were rules, and he’d learned there were worse fates than death.

Jesse misinterpreted Apep’s dark smile as a sharing of sentiments, and he found he liked him better for it. His own smile began to subside; remaining by way of a twisted up smirk. “Might,” he answered, mad-eyed and steady-focused. “Why? You in the business of dealin’ up thrills, too?”

[Black Philip]

Apep nodded knowingly at Jesse, always having what the customer wanted. If Jesse wanted a thrill, than Apep would do his level best to find him one. He thought quickly, and remembered his comrade, Butler. Apep had learned three important things about Butler in their short amount of time working together; he was very well refined, loves drinking tea, and enjoys nothing more than beating the shit out of people. He could honor Jesse's request.

"I deal in everything," Apep replied simply, saying such a self boast as if it were nothing more than casual fact, like the weather of the day. "And next time you're there, look for my buddy Butler. You'll know him because he's a good looking, over pampered Italian who is stronger than any man. Tell him Apep sends his regards. He'll give you a thrill... if you want one that is."

He went to his safe, pulling out three, small vile's filled with a lime green liquid. It sloshed around as he carried them towards Jesse, extending one for him to hold.

"Ever done acid," he asked, an upward inflection betraying a personal interest in the answer.