Mistrunner 2 - Chapter 27 - Ruining a Life (Patreon)

I wonder if Mira is still out there. She was the instrument through which Jeremiah showed his disdain for me, but that wasn’t her fault. I tried to protect her, but I have no way of knowing if I was successful.

Nora Lancaster

“Do you have any more?” asked Calvin, looking at me with bloodshot eyes. His whole body twitched, and he shivered in the damp heat of the Biloxi night. Suddenly, he jumped to his feet and wheeled around, hissing, “Who’s there?”

Of course, I knew that no one was there. That was just the dust withdrawal causing hallucinations. It would get worse. Much, much worse. But that was the point. Dust wasn’t like most drugs. It didn’t care about attributes or skills; no – it cut right through every defense, resulting in a euphoric high that I’d heard was unmatched by any other substance. But like most good things, it came with a significant downside: addiction and the degradation of mental faculties. Most dust fiends didn’t even notice the latter, but it was there. It didn’t just destroy brain cells. Instead, it attacked the attributes directly, focusing on Mind.

I had no idea how quickly it was supposed to work, but after only a week of heavy use, Calvin was already showing the signs. Not only were his reactions much slower, but he’d grown increasingly paranoid. He was convinced that someone was out to get him. He was right, of course, but he didn’t suspect me in the slightest.

It hadn’t even been that difficult to earn his trust. Once, I’d marveled at how easily Jo could manipulate people into doing what she wanted. She was never malicious, but everyone in her group of friends tripped over themselves to stay on her good side. With Calvin, I’d channeled my inner-Jo, and he’d fallen in line. Odd that, after all my training, my friendship with Jo would be so impactful on my mission.

“Nobody’s there,” I said, dumping a bit of pink powder into a glass of water. Then, I downed the resulting concoction.

“You sure I can’t –”

“This is my private stash,” I said, holding up the bottle. “That stuff you’ve been taking doesn’t do anything for me. I need a stronger compound.”

It was a lie, of course. The “dust” I’d been taking to keep pace with him was nothing more than dyed sugar. I wasn’t about to test myself against the potent drug, even if I was curious if the combination of my high Constitution, Regeneration, and Resistancemight give me immunity. The bottles I’d gotten for him, though, were the real thing.

It was like watching a hovercar slamming into a megabuilding in slow motion.

When we’d first met, Calvin was suave, handsome, and self-assured. Now, I could already see the effects of the dust I’d given him that first night. His cheeks had grown hollow, his eyes were watery and deeply sunk into his skull, and he’d already lost quite a few pounds. Soon, he’d look just like any other junky, albeit one who could cover some of it up with the trappings of wealth. It was like looking at an abandoned building, but one with a fresh coat of paint.  From a distance, it might look okay, but up close, its real nature would become evident. So it was with Calvin, and this was after only a week. In two, he’d be alternate between being a desperate, twitching mess and passing out in alleys and stairwells.

I almost felt bad about what I had done to him.

But I hadn’t forced him to take the drugs. I’d just made a suggestion. He was the idiot who’d decided to throw away a life of privilege in favor of being a junkie. Actions, as my uncle had often said, had consequences, and it was almost satisfying to see Calvin dealing with the effects of his own decisions.

Or it would have been if he wasn’t so pathetic.

Luckily, I was almost finished. I only needed to ease his path to true addiction by putting him in touch with someone who could satisfy his drug habit. To that end, I said, “I think I can help with your problem, though.”

“What? How? You know someone?” he asked.

I nodded. I hadn’t spent my days in Biloxi idly twiddling my thumbs. Instead, I had explored most of the town, even venturing into the nearby tenements that housed the men and women who harvested the kelp. There, it hadn’t taken long to find a den of dust fiends who, in turn, had directed me toward their dealer. I might not have been comfortable navigating the luxurious environs of the wealthy, but I was completely at home in the slums.

“I do,” I said, pushing myself to my feet and looking around the hotel suite. Once, it had been pristine, but now, it looked like the dust den it had become. Furniture had been toppled, the expensive paintings had been destroyed, and there was filth everywhere – all courtesy of Calvin, who reacted to the drug with unrestrained mania. And I had no interest in constraining him; the more destructive he was, the better. We were establishing habits, after all. When I left, I needed him to be completely incapable of hiding his addiction.

And he was well on his way. I only needed to make sure he had a ready supply, and then I would be in the clear to enact the next part of my plan.

“How?” he asked.

“I’m a Banshee,” I said. “I know how to find things I want to find. You think a drug dealer can hide from someone like me?”

“Oh…”

He really was pathetic. Even without my influence, Calvin wasn’t the most intelligent person around. But under the effects of the dust? It was if his brain was running at half speed. Doubtless, after I left, he would quickly show his incompetence.

Of course, I wasn’t going to wait for that. Even if he started making mistakes, it was likely that someone would cover it up. Or just send him away. No – I needed something big; when Blue Epoch investigated, they’d find that they’d left a dust fiend in charge. After that, the blame would soon fall on his mother, who’d gotten him the job in the first place.

Simple.

A bit cruel, but definitely not complicated.

Besides, he was in charge of the kelp harvesting operation, and as such, complicit in the suffering of the people he used as workers. They weren’t slaves, exactly, but they weren’t that far off. Even the farmers and factory workers in Nova City were better treated. So, even if he hadn’t created the system, he certainly hadn’t done anything to change it. Which made him easy to hate, so long as I kept that at the forefront of my mind.

I was well aware that my judgement of him was hypocritical. It wasn’t as if I’d gone out of my way to help anyone else. But I studiously ignored that fact, focusing on what made my task easier to stomach.

I stood, running my hand through my straightened hair. I definitely didn’t like it very much; instead, against all odds, I preferred my natural hair. I’d complained about it often enough that my preference surprised even me, but I couldn’t deny it. In any case, the straightened hair was still necessary for the disguise.

“Come on,” I said. “I have somebody I want you to meet.”

All hints of flirtation were gone from my voice. Thankfully, the moment I’d gotten Calvin hooked on dust, the necessity for such an act had been obviated. The reality of it was that even if I could fake it for a while, flirtation and interpersonal relationships just didn’t come naturally to me.

He quickly agreed, chattering manically about nothing as he followed me out of the hotel suite. When we made it the lobby, we both got some strange looks. I’d expected that; Calvin looked like the dust fiend he was, and I’d discarded my fancy clothes in favor of something less conspicuous. After all, looking too rich or prosperous in the slums would paint a target on my back. I had no interest in dealing with that, so I’d made some effort to blend in. To that end, I wore a simple pair of coveralls that I’d stolen from one of the kelp harvesters.

Not appropriate for a luxurious hotel like the Calgary, but it would keep me from standing out in the slums.

In any case, we quickly headed out of the hotel and down the sidewalk that ran along the main street. Biloxi wasn’t a huge town – smaller than Mobile, in fact – but it was still large enough that it took us almost half an hour to reach our destination in the slums. A tenement loomed over us, boxy, blocky, and made of unadorned concrete. At ground level, graffiti decorated the walls, and on the floors above that was a grid of narrow windows. It looked like nothing so much as the prison it practically was.

A few men and women, all showing the same signs of addiction Calvin had begun to display, loitered nearby. Fortunately, they’d clearly just come down from a high, and they hadn’t recovered enough to start looking for a way to get their next hit. Otherwise, there was every chance that Calvin’s expensive clothes would attract all the wrong kinds of trouble. I had a plan for what to do if that happened, but it wasn’t quite as buttoned-up as my first option.

So, we pushed by a couple of people who’d perched themselves on either side of the door. One of them asked us for credits, but I ignored her. Calvin took his cues from me, doing the same. Or maybe he just didn’t care. Either way, I wouldn’t let myself get distracted by a beggar.

The interior of the tenement wasn’t much better than the façade, though there was only one man in the lobby. He looked healthy enough, which meant that he wasn’t a dust fiend. Instead, judging by his faded blue coveralls and his slightly salty odor, he was a harvester who’d just finished a shift. The kelp had stained his hands a deep red.

Once I saw that he wasn’t a threat, I moved past him on my way to the stairwell, which I mounted a moment later. Calvin followed close on my heels until we finally reached the appropriate floor, where I led him into a dingy hall.

At one point, it might have been a decent-looking space. Utilitarian and without frills, but adequate. Now, though? There were stains on the walls, the lighting flickered, and, in more than one spot, the carpet had been ripped from the floor. There was also a pervasive smell that clung to the place – like body odor, fish, and vomit, all rolled into one. It wasn’t overbearing, as if someone had made some attempt to purge the odor only to find that it had seeped into the very walls.

It was disgusting, and I wondered how anyone could live in such conditions.

Of course, the answer was that they did it because they didn’t have any choice. Nobody chose to live in a tenement. It was just the last stop on the way to homelessness.

But I ignored those details; I’d seen them the last time I was there, and I didn’t need to focus on them anymore. Instead, I headed confidently down the hall, making a couple of turns before I finally reached the door that was my goal. I banged on the door with the flat of my hand, and a moment later, it slid open.

“You’re late,” said the man on the other side. He was short, thin, and had a ring of stringy hair falling down to his shoulders. The top of his head was bare, and he had sharp features that gave him a dangerous look. He was clad only in a dirty robe and a pair of once-white underwear. “Come in. And bring your boy toy with you.”

Calvin took offense to that characterization, saying, “I am not a –”

I cut him off with a glare. “Just shut up and follow my lead,” I said. “Do that, and you’ll get what you want, okay?”

I could see the fear in his eyes. Not of me. Instead, he was terrified of not getting his dust. That was the thing about the drug; it was so addictive that it only took a couple of hits before someone was hopelessly dedicated to getting their next high. It was possible to go clean, but few people managed it. Some of that was because most people who went down that road had done so for a reason. They just wanted an escape. Dust provided that, even if it ruined what was left of their lives. If you were going to live in squalor, you might as well do so while high on dust.

It was the same desperate hopelessness that drove others to spend all their credits on Bourbon Street. Or to spend their whole lives hooked into one VR chip or another. I didn’t blame them, even if I did judge them for their weakness.

“You’ve got what I ordered?” I asked, following him inside. Calvin did the same. “Or…”

“I got it, I got it,” the man said as the door slid shut. The interior of the domicile was small and cramped, but it was clean enough. On one side was a narrow bed – little more than a cot – that was built into the wall. On the other, a counter that was covered in glassware. Very little of it was in use, but at the very end, there was a beaker containing the sludge that would eventually become dust. I had no idea how it was made. Nor did I know the ingredients. I just knew that making it was dangerous due to the volatility of the process.

But Marv was the best cook in Biloxi. Everyone I’d spoken to claimed as much, which was why I’d contacted him earlier in the week and contracted a huge batch of dust.

Marv sat on the bed, then opened a drawer that was concealed in its base. He took out a plastic box, which he handed to me. “Just like you ordered,” he said. “That’s enough to last you and your boyfriend a month. Maybe two if you don’t go too crazy.”

I could practically feel Calvin’s excitement as I took the box and checked the contents. Sure enough, there was a sealed bag full of glittering pink powder, enough to ruin Calvin’s life a dozen times over.

I initiated a transfer of credits – just ten thousand – to Marv, who accepted it with a greedy smile that revealed a distinct lack of teeth. There were a few still there, but most had long since succumbed to poor dental hygiene.

With our business done, Calvin and I didn’t waste any time leaving the domicile and the tenement. When we left the slums behind, I handed Calvin the box, saying, “There. My gift to you.”

“W-what?” he asked, his voice quivering in excitement. It was all he could do not to tear into the dust right there on the street. “You don’t want to do it with me? We could have a lot of –”

“Call it a parting gift,” I said. “I’m leaving Biloxi.”

“Why? You could stay, and –”

“Can’t. I have responsibilities,” I said. “And I finished my task two nights ago. Staying this long was already pushing it.”

A lie, of course. Calvin was my task, and by giving him the dust and showing him where to get more, I’d just finished the first of the plan. I was eager to move on with the second stage. After all, the sooner I finished, the sooner I could get back to Nova and what was truly important.

“I…when can I see you again?” he asked, his voice hopeful. That he could focus on me at all when he had a box of dust in his hand was a little disconcerting.

“I’ll be by here in a couple of months,” I lied, reaching up to caress his cheek. His skin was cold and clammy. “Just don’t have too much fun until I get back, okay?”

I didn’t waste time waiting on an answer. Instead, I strode ahead and into the hotel. Before long, I was back in my suite. Someone had been inside to clean up. Or perhaps they had drones for that. Either way, the room was spotless, but I knew I’d be charged for it. As much as I didn’t want to spend credits unnecessarily, I knew it was all worth it.

Now, I just needed to finish things up by creating a disaster that would bring the Blue Epoch Corporation down on Calvin’s head.

So, I stripped my coveralls off and donned my Infiltration suit. Once I made sure that I hadn’t left anything behind, I left the suite and headed downstairs to check out. As I’d expected, my bill was astronomical. I paid it without question, then went outside where I summoned my Cutter and headed out of the city.

I didn’t look back until I was well out of sight. Then, I let Mimic drop, adopted a completely different persona and turned around. I didn’t head for the gate, though. My first trip into Biloxi was above-board. But this one? It would be a stealth mission.