Hoi Polloi/Got A Dollar
From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe
"Hey man, got a dollar?"
The stranger leaned against the bar at Pocket D. Upstairs, blueside, as usual.. the rumor being that redside drinks were watered down. The man - demon? Whatever he was.. gave the woman a distrustful gaze. His nose wrinkled slightly at the heady scent of marijauna that radiated off of her like the sun.
"Didn't I just give you a dollar yesterday?" he asked, reaching for his wallet.
"Yeah man, but, a girl's gotta eat, right?" she grinned at him, a seedy, semi-lucid grin. It was obvious to the casual observer, this slightly dirty woman wasn't playing with a full deck. He shoved the dollar into her hand, and her face brightened beneath the brow of her hat.
"Kickass, thanks man... now I got two." she grinned, stuffing the dollar with so many others in her shirt. Much more than two stuffed into the confines of her top, though her damaged mind unable to comprehend more than that paltry number.
Shuffling past the man, she moved to the railing, hoisting herself up, she perched there, watching. This is what she did, night after night, sitting, watching, listening. You'd be surprised how casually people let their secrets slip in everyday conversation, but she wasn't interested in talking to them. No, all she wanted to do was listen, and sell what she hears to the highest bidder.
Fumbling around in the manifold pockets of her jacket, she pulls out a nearly crumpled pack of cigarettes. Easing one from the packet, she looks inside, realizing with a sigh that it's her last. Crushing the package in her hand, she chucked it over her shoulder, over the railing without so much as a glance. The cigarette she place between her lips is a comfort, a luxury. She is cautious to put it on the left side of her mouth, the right still sore and swollen, a cut there from an "altercation" the night before. At least, that was the word the cop used. She would never have used a big word like that. Getting "boot-stomped" was more her speed.
Lighting the cigarette, she savored the taste, the smell, and watched the growing throng of clubgoers. She smirked a bit at them. Ignorant masses, blind to the reality of their situations. They weren't alone, even in the quietest of places, they were never alone. Tiny eyes watched them, tiny membranes listened to their secrets, and tiny minds linked them to their mistress, like a junkie looking for a fix. Cigarette still smoking, hanging from her lips, she bowed her head a bit, looking like just another passed out bum. Inside her mind, however, a torrential hive of activity, wave upon wave as thousands of voices skittered and screamed in the darkness, an army of inhuman minds clouding her senses, her grip to reality, tenuous at best.
She could see every tiny insect mind in Pocket D. Of course she knew how many there were - this is a sealed environment - she had put them there. On railings, behind walls, over the restroom doors, her senses extended in every direction. She saw every drug deal in the redside bar, the vampires fucking by the monkey cages, the plans for wars, the plans for weddings... each little messenger feeding their mistress her fix, their locations burning like fireflies in her conciousness. The dark interior of her mind was the cloudless night sky, lit with millions of tiny stars.
Each star had a secret. Each star had a price.
One star stood out for a moment, and she focused on it intently, her face betraying a bit of a smirk. "He just walked in...." she muttered.. "Sucker."
She blinked open her eyes, setting back the stars and the darkness, trying to mute the voices as best she could. Her eyes instinctively cut to the stairs, seeing his pale form rising above the plane of the floor, leaning himself against the nearby pillar. His hair was dark, his body was toned, and he sucked on a blunt between his fingers. He threw her a lazy grin, and she knew the eyes behind those shades would betray exactly how much he'd been smoking. She tossed her cigarette over the railing, it was nearly all ash now anyways.
She hopped off the railing, and approached him, her pant legs shuffling as she moved. She took the weed from him, took a long drag, and felt that sensation wash over her, that slow, creeping feeling of heaven that flooded her mind. For just that moment, this was all she lived for, this feeling. His hand on the back of her neck snapped her from her reverie. It was a gentle, if insistent touch. He grinned at her.
Looking up into the dark lenses covering his eyes... "..... So?" she muttered.
He grinned a bit wider, giving a bit of a nod. She handed him back his weed, which he tossed aside. As he slid his hand from her neck, she turned and headed down the stairs to the elevator. She knew what he wanted. What do all men want? Somewhere close, preferably moist, thrust, repeat. Any shady spot in the Port Oakes alleys would do. She didn't even know his name, only his initial: "V." It didn't matter in the end. It was fun, if just for the moment. Besides... who knows what she'll come away with this time? Last time she got his wallet, his gun, and...
Two dollars.
