Drinks, Drugs & Dreams

By the time he'd downed his fifth beer, Alex didn't bother asking for another. His life had gone to Hell, and the city was raving havoc. All these strange new powers was epic, but the extreme healing had a major downside. Friday's had previously been the one day of the week where he'd hit the pub and get wasted to the point where he had forgotten the meaning of his existence. Now, he couldn't even get a buzz. Five beers, and nothing. He'd been at this since before it was legal for him to drink. Old habits are hard to drown, but now he was forced to, whether he liked it or not.

With a heavy sigh he got up from the stool and threw a quarter in his empty glass. The manager was quick to eye him down and point out that he'd have to pay for his drinks. To this, Mercer snarled and slammed his clenched fist on the bar counter.

"I've payed you enough to last for the rest of your precious life. I'm not wasting another penny on booze that doesn't even taste!" he growled, his eyes taking on a red hue. Both bartender and manager staggered back, and his head exploded in an agonizing headache. The hand that wasn't threatening to punch a hole in someone's face reached up to rub his temple, and his eyes slid shut. "Just be glad you're still alive" he grumbled and turned to head out the door.

He pulled up his hood and buried his hands deep down in the pockets of his jeans. Fresh air filled his lungs as he inhaled deeply once he was out on the streets. He'd have to find a substitute for the booze eventually. Maybe he could try a cigarette? No, that'd probably be evaporated from his system just like the alcohol. It could be worthy a try though. Tobacco wasn't alcohol. Not the same composition. Neither were drugs. Maybe he could seek out an unfortunate dealer on the way to wherever he was headed? Worth a shot.

With that in mind, he turned on his heel and walked back the same way he came - past the pub without as much as a glance - and continued down a few more blocks. He soon reached a run-down corner-store and pushed the door open. A bell clinged, and a manager popped up behind the counter. Was that a lollipop in her mouth? She greeted him with an oh-so-fake grin and started to list all the "amazing things" she had for sale. Alex scowled and marched up to the counter to interrupt her rambling with his demand.

"Cigarettes and a lighter" he said sharply. His headache was back again, and he rubbed his temples while she searched behind the counter for what he wanted. Fortunately for them both, she picked the first package her eyes landed on, and no questions had to be asked. He payed and left without another word. Now for the drugs. Those wouldn't be available at a regular store. He scrolled through the many memories he'd stolen and quickly found a possible victim. 'Too easy' he thought.

The man in question were cowarding in an alley together with a few other smug-looking nolifers. They were huddled around a metal trashcan with the contents lit up on a large fire. Homeless, no doubt. Alex threw a rolled up stack of bills on the ground in front of the dirtiest-looking one. They all looked up at him, and one of them grinned mischievously.

"Lookin' to get knocked up, huh?" he said, baring his teeth. Well, else he wouldn't be here, right? Mercer tensed his jaw and held back the urge to punch the man. They all would bail if he did, no doubt, and he'd have to either rob them blank or find a new dealer as a result. No use engaging in violence when it didn't have a worthy outcome. Then again, maybe he could satisfy his needs by just slashing a few bodies open. The headache returned with full force and splotches of color danced in the corners of his vision. He rubbed his temples with both hands and blinked before turning his attention back to the dealers with a glare. Their grins faded and the dirty guy picked up the bills. "Boss..." he mumbled. "T'is two grand". They looked at Alex as if he'd gone mad.