‘Pharm Boi’, Gaia did he hate that name. One obscure reference in an interview by a high profile client and the name stuck, mostly only those in the know could place his face to the name. Not that it didn’t help at times, Gaia knows the premium his clients paid for his product and services as well as the blog he started which had a following, it just never sat right…the spotlight wasn’t him, nor was it the small squeaky voice in his head that whispered so many secrets to him.
“Pharm Boi.” The voice on the other end was husky, gruff and had the sound of desperation. Nick answered “I’m here, fraggin’ A train was late to Burley and I had to take the mid-city bus to Mobley Avenue and jump a commuter cab……” The voice was gruffer, possibly a sign of growing desperation “Slot! How close are you, without the travelogue?!” Nick leap up the last of the two steps to the darkly rusted door and knocked twice. “That’s me.”
The creaking of the door sent Nick back before it moaned and popped open upon its old rusted hinges, the dim lights from inside spilling out into the dark and wet alley way. The huge Ork gave Nick a hard glance, with which Nick only replied “Hey. As fast as I could, besides this is a favor. You know I’m not taking new clients.” Nick had decided that after the Tempo incidents of recent past and how the drug scene not only exploded, but got a bit ultra-violent in the process as dealers got greedy. The Ork was guiding Nick along hurriedly down the hallway. The hallway wasn’t just old and dirty with refuse, it was a dumping ground for all manner of electronics and stage lighting….how unimpressive Underworld 93 really was would shatter a lot of wannabe’s hearts. The door was just as unimpressive, black with a fading gold star on it.
Beyond the door is a mix of pissed off musicians pretending to be tuning their instruments, a fidgeting ‘manager’ in an ill-fitting off the rack suit with more wrinkles than creases and a very stern and impatient looking woman in a power suit. And the Client, he was easy to spot, her dark hair matted around her pale face from the sweat pouring out of her pores. “Finally.” The manager in the bad suit says. “I don’t condone this sort of thing in my musicians…” He begins, more for the stern woman than Nick’s ears “….but, you know these things happen, right?
Right.” He gets closer to Nick, and he can smell the fear on him past the knock off cologne. “Look. She’s got a problem…worse than I thought and if she takes as much as she need’s she done. OD, curtain call, you know.” Nick looked at the bad suit “You got my fee? Then no problem.” The suit nodded.
“Back up so I can work.” Nick says as he hovers over the dark haired beauty before resting next to her and holding her head in his hands. Whispering to her he asks in a cooing tone “What’s your poison, baby?” She mumbles back “Bliss or the Crimson.” Smiling in a reassuring manner “How many bumps to make you right?”
The bad suit interrupts “She can’t take that it’ll kill her, and at best she won’t be able to perform.” Nick cuts his eyes at the suit and hisses. “Shut the frag up! I know what I’m doing.” The other musicians pace about excitedly, possibly even angrily as Nick continues. “How many baby? How you take it?” Her eyes tear up and she sobs out “four from a spike.”
Gaia was all Nick could think. “Give me her works, now.” Nick says and the manager quickly produces it. Nick fishes through his large pockets and pulls out a small vial, which he shakes and holds to the light. Next he takes the rubber tube and ties it off on her bicep. Nick prepped the rest including the Zero in the spike. Placing the spike in her hand he cradles her head again. “Ready?” The bad suit interrupts again “You’re going to kill her!” but Nick avoids him “Let’s take this trip together baby, you and me….the Pharm Boi.”
“Pharm Boi?” she asks admiringly. “Yeah.” He says as he helps her push the plunger in, working the spell to ‘Enable’ the Crimson Orchid. As she smiled and the color came back to her face, Nick snuck the earring off her left ear, Rat demanded no less of course from him. The room is full of appreciation as she regains her constitution, some of it genuine if not begrudging due to the circumstances. The lone exception is the stern woman who merely looks at the bad suit and utters harshly “Ten minutes, not a second later.” She leaves promptly after.
Nick left the way he came, via the back alley, with a credchip full of nuyen he decided to skip the public routes and hired a taxi back to Auburn…..his home of self-imposed exile.
