I saved up all my pennies and I gave them to this special guy

[fabricatings]

He's not feeling himself. Not right. Something's scratching, clawing, and it's not because of the pain he imagines. It's not because of his life. It's because he needs something--anything. No oxy? Vicodin. No vicodin? Tramadol. Hydromorphone. Pethidine. All that mattered was that they were opioids and they were strong.

He tricks himself into thinking he can last at least a day with one pill. Briggs is convinced someone stole his tranquilizers, and even rounds on Mike. That's what sets it off--junkies aren't exactly ones for a stable environment. Briggs and Mike are both paranoid, powerful individuals who know how the other operates. It starts off as a fist-fight, Briggs claiming Mike took his drugs for drug money. Mike isn't exactly calm when he uproots the small table and begins yelling right back. The fact that he was thinking about it never comes up, but he goes for a walk.

He's still feeling it, the scratching inside his head. Like an insect, wanting to crawl out of his ear. And on top of that, he swears his gut feels like it's being stabbed. Like that knife is being sliced into him, over and over again. His lip is bleeding but he doesn't care--that pain is nothing compared to the flare in his abs, or the way even his teeth seem to be on fire instead of their usual numb state.

It's late by the time he tracks down his dealer after the other doesn't answer his texts. Slams him against the wall, demanding what he wants. Of course his dealer is out. Turns out, by the time Mike has actually beaten the shit out of the guy, the dealer is right. He's out.

"I know a guy, though," He says. "Hangs out at so-and-so a bar."

Mike's going to have to work for his meal, it seems, and he gives one last kick in the ribs to his dealer, tells him pleasantly he'll see him tomorrow and he'd better have some oxy squared away just for him.

To the bar he goes. He looks like shit--hasn't shaved, long hair--but he also doesn't care. All he cares about is the scratching, the pain--he needs that to go away. He just needs to track down who the fuck his dealer was talking about.

Comments

[heroeswork]

But they were far from done. Billy's fun had only just started. Instead of returning his hand to the other's cock, he just pressed closer. A knee on the seat between Mike's legs, the hand still at his throat.

"And what point is that?" He asked, tugging his hat off. There was no reason for it in the dark.

Tossing the hat to the dashboard, the hand returned to Mike's body. Fingers pushing up under his sweatshirt. Feeling over his skin. His mind wandered to the building behind Mike's head. There was a basement, all cold concrete and metal beams. How no one would bat an eye after a junkie went missing. It didn't matter if they'd been seen leaving the bar together, no one would care. It had been so long since he'd found someone who he'd thought could survive a few days. And Mike seemed he might last longer still.

This wicked dream of a plan shone on his face with a sharp and twisted smile. Almost invisible in the dark, as his hand explored Mike's torso.

[fabricatings]

God. Mike didn't smack the other's hand away, not quite, but he does grab the other's wrists and pry them off of him. This was...Odd, to say the least. Fucked up was actually the first things that came to mind.

"I mean I've got it. You're the dealer, I have to do what I say, that sort of stuff." He can only guess that this is some sort of weird power trip. "Like I said, point proven." He can only bow his head so much. Especially since he isn't a junkie--not an addict.

The birds, though. That's still disorienting him. But it doesn't matter--he has it, now. He has his Oxy.

[heroeswork]

Billy moved back a little, his hand finally pulling away from Mike's throat. His hands fell to the other's hips, yanking him hard so he laid down on the seat. Not at all caring if Mike hit his head on the door in the process.

"If that's all you think, if you think it's just doing what I say, then you've not yet grasped the gravity of this situation." He loomed over Mike, his fingers starting to pull down those track pants.

[fabricatings]

No, he understands perfectly, and he'll take his chances somewhere not here. This whole situation is fucked and once he feels his whole body slowly start to adjust. It's not immediate, but the shakes are gone. The coldness is gone.

"Get off me," He snaps, head hitting the door. He barely feels it, his left leg moving up to try to kick the other away from him. Laying on the car seat, underneath someone he barely knew. Some guy he barely knew. He gets just enough leeway to sit himself up again, back against the door, hand going for the handle.

That's right. It was a trap. Fuck.

"Touch me again and I'll break you." He means it, too.

[heroeswork]

There it was. The fire. The fight. Apparently it had been on a delayed fuse. Accelerated by just the right fuel. The pill. It would make breaking him so much more satisfying. And again he found himself wondering how easily he could find a chain and a few padlocks...

He let the other fight, watching with a completely bland face, almost severe.

"You could try," he said, drawing it out, leaning closer again. He seized Mike's arms, forcing them back against the door. "But it's who who will be broken before we're through."

[fabricatings]

Mike has enough. He's here for oxy, not a jerk-around. He doesn't understand one bit of this Colins guy and doesn't want to, not after all of this. It's confusing and fucking infuriating, and Mike is tired of being jerked around. Treated like shit. He had the money, now he had the Oxy. Services paid for.

Fuck, he even let the other choke him and for a brief, brief moment he thought it was something he could live with. Now? His arms are seized so he can't clock the other with his fist, so all that's left his his legs. He knees the other, hard, and tries to pull up his leg enough to give him a quick sharp kick in the chest so he could at least use his arms. Try to get the guy unconscious for an escape.

Always been a fighter.

[heroeswork]

The kick dislodged Billy, more out of surprise than anything. His finger slipped free and he fell back against the driver's side door. His elbow brushed the horn, letting out a loud blast.

Fury flashed over his face. Passion. Elation. This wouldn't be an easy conquest. And worth every heart-pounding moment. He shoved immediately off the door, one hand planting on Mike's thigh. The other reaching into his jacket.

There was an audible and tell-tale click as a gun whipped out. Pressed under Mike's chin. "I wouldn't try that again if you want to keep that pretty head of yours."

[fabricatings]

The gun under his chin doesn't make him stop struggling altogether, but it certainly gives him time to reassess the situation. The cold metal of the gun being pushed into his chin...

He didn't want to just lay down and take it. No, he couldn't. His gaze was forced upwards with his chin, and he was surprisingly very good at keeping his breath even. He's talked his way out of situations like this before. He can do it again. He closes his eyes, tongue darting out, reaching to wet his lips.

"You have my money, you have everything..." Echoing what he's said already. He has to think of something, some way.

Play into his hands? His heart's already beating rapidly, and he slowly, slowly moves his hand to the other. All he has to do is survive this. He mirrors the hand on his thigh, even tries to lean in closer.

Just enough to get him to settle down so Mike could grab the gun. That's all he had to do.

[heroeswork]

The faintest smile played over Billy's face as he watched Mike. He'd seen such tactics before, whether in deals or conquests. They never worked because Billy was always several steps ahead of them. No one had ever bested him one-on-one. No one. With the exception of that damned agent he'd tangled with, some ugly bastard by the name of Malick. But only because he was too cold, too stiff to read. And in the end, Billy still got away, if with a few scars.

The hand touches his and for a moment, he just seems to stiffen, as if he hadn't expected such a touch. But it was nothing more than anticipation. And another fleeting thought passed through his mind. Locking a chain around Mike's neck. Stringing it up through one of those exposed beams in the middle of the floor. Pulling him just high enough that he could just barely stand on his toes. It was a rather delightful image. Far better than his attempts to snatch the gun.

Rather than let Mike take it, Billy jerked his hand away and brought the weapon hard across he side of Mike's face. It wasn't enough force to knock him out, but to certainly get his attention.

"Not everything," Billy said, almost sweetly. "There's so much more that I want from you."

[fabricatings]

Being struck across the face would normally do it, but a gun was so much worse. He bounces back surprisingly quickly for someone in his state. He rears his head back up, brows furrowed. Angry.

"What the fuck do you want?!" He asked, sounding exasperated. A lot more than he'd like to, at least. And all he got out of this? One pill.

One little tiny pill.

[heroeswork]

Billy's hand moved to grasp Mike's chin. His fingers dug into his jaw, to force his mouth open. And he had the gun to help, slowly and almost gently nudging and wedging it between Mike's teeth. Far enough in that the other could taste the metal.

"What I want," Billy said calmly, "Is to break you. Completely." He leaned closer. Close enough that his breath could be felt around the gun barrel. "Even if I have to hurt you to do it. You see, this was never about the pills or the money. Not for me." He let go of Mike's chin, to reach over to the glove compartment. From it, he pulled thick roll of duct tape, which he held up for Mike to see in the dim light.

"We're going to put this to every possible use I can think of," he said, sounding almost wistful. "And from there...well, I'm sure you have an imagination somewhere in there..." he edge of the roll to Mike's forehead to make his point clear. "...that you can put to use.

[fabricatings]

He's forced to swallow the gun, and all he can taste is bitter metal and all he can think of is how this is it--he's going to die in a fucking pick up truck with some guy who's face he hasn't even seen properly, save for the brief moment when the lights flash.

The car horn and honked, and no one was there. Billy wanted to--who the fuck knew? Mike was probably going to die. He's starting to shake, just a little, and he has a feeling it has nothing to do with withdrawal.

All he wanted was some fucking oxy. Why would Kelly give him to this guy? He pays. He always pays. Mike's never fucked up. Kelly obviously knew this guy--his thoughts were interrupted as the roll of duct tape rolled across his forehead, and when Mike looked up, it was a glare.

He was not a fucking thing. Some junkie. He couldn't say anything, didn't risk it, but the look said it all.

[heroeswork]

Billy was already ticking over plans in his mind. What he could do to get Mike restrained. Unconscious. Into the abandoned warehouse. Billy had been in there before. Checked out the acoustics and how well sound could be heard outside. The nearest place even remotely in use was several blocks away. It would be a breeze to carry Mike inside...

No, he needed to focus. On the here and now. Now he had Mike right where he wanted. Shaking and unable to escape. Slowly, he pulled the gun free, to allow Mike room enough to speak. "Before you say anything," He said as he pulled it free. "You need to understand that I have no qualms putting a bullet through your head."

[fabricatings]

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He had been reaching for the handle, thinking he could pry it off or rig it somehow, but immediately stopped once he realized that Billy was serious. Knows because Mike has that same look about him, too, sometimes.

One day, Briggs gave him a gun. Just to borrow. Was afraid people would get at him, needed some backup. Mike discovered two things: one, he was a crack shot, and two, he liked the power it gave him.

"You've made that clear," He states. Voice far less hard than it was before, but still angry. More than annoyed--furious. What the fuck was he supposed to do?

It was one pill. One fucking pill of oxycodone.

"What if Kelly figures out the one reliable guy he has disappeared after looking for you, Colin?"

[heroeswork]

"You wouldn't be the first..." Billy said in a tone that implied very clearly that he wouldn't be the last, either. But the few who had vanished hadn't been in his truck. They'd tried to cross him. Thought they could get away with stiffing him. They'd all met rather violent ends. And that was just in this city.

"Kelly's resourceful. He'll find new customers when he needs to." Slowly, he put the gun away, watching Mike carefully.

Slipping the roll of tape to his wrist to keep it close at hand, he grabbed Mike by the hips again, to drag him back into place. He was even rougher than the first time. "I don't need to remind you what will happen if you don't stay put, do I?"

[fabricatings]

"No," Mike said immediately, trying to roll with it. It was as much as he could do, in this sort of a situation. Try to ease himself into a situation where he can escape. Mike has no doubt Billy will kill them--absolutely no doubt--but bullets can miss, if he gets a head start.

If he gets the gun.

He's jammed roughly back to the seat and Mike is still racking his brain, still thinking. The problem is that Mike's not a normal junkie. He needs Oxy, needs it, but he can think. He can still do stuff like this.

"Doesn't this make more sense, from a business standpoint, if you leave me alive? It's not like I can call the cops on you anyway, man, and I can help you. Give you more people, set you up with other people like me. What is it--blonde men? Blue eyes? I can help."

[heroeswork]

Billy didn't seem to be listening. For a moment, he was focused on the roll of tape in his hands, fingers tracing around it as eye found the end of it. Deft and practiced, even in the dark. It only took a moment.

Seizing Mike's wrist, he roughly started winding the tape around it, unless Mike started fighting back. "I don't want more people," he explained with an incredibly calm, conversational tone. "I get more than enough business. One junkie isn't going to ruin business. Besides, I don't want people LIKE you. I want you. Specifically."

[fabricatings]

He's mad, but he doesn't struggle too much once the first loop is around him. He's trying to think, trying to find a way to get something, and then it happens. The Colin guy says the magic word.

Junkie.

Mike Warren was not a junkie.

It happens immediately, fueled by rage, and Mike snaps as he pulls his wrist out of the other's grasp and spends zero time moving, sitting up a second time and trying to shove the other against the car door himself.

"I am not a junkie," He hisses. "That's the difference between me and someone else. That's why you want me. I am not a fucking addict."

[heroeswork]

But Billy had been ready for it this time. The kick had caught him off guard, but this wouldn't throw him. He had his hand at Mike's throat in an instant, trying to force him back down onto the seat, not afraid to cut off his air again.

"I only deal with junkies," he said with a strange note of glee in his voice. This is what he'd wanted. A fight. An argument. A struggle. "Because they're the only ones desperate enough to need me!"

[fabricatings]

"Not me," Mike managed, voice strangely determined despite the hands around his neck. A right arm swings a punch at Colin, determined. He can take the physical no problem--apparently hearing he's a junkie practically enrages him.

He's trying, rather heavy handedly, to get the other off of him. Mike just needs a way to get to the opposite car door...

[heroeswork]

Billy dropped the tape, catching Mike's wrist as he lunged back to avoid the swing. By pure chance, at that moment a car passed outside, giving him just enough light to see the damage on Mike's knuckles. The obvious signs of having recently been in a fight. Usually, he didn't pay much attention to the scrapes and blemishes on junkies. But this certainly wasn't track marks.

"Someone's been fighting," he commented. He slammed the arm down hard against Mike's chest, determined to not let the man up. "I'd better find Kelly in one piece. He's good for business."

[fabricatings]

Two. And Briggs will panic when mike doesn't come home, knowing he left with a bit of temper. Kelly... It didn't make sense. Mike was a pretty good customer, always paying. Never bringing any heat.

Anything else he could think of was immediately dismantled. His chest, just above the stomach. Why he needed the oxy in the first place. Remnants if an old pain, either real or imaginary.

He grunts in pain, scrunching his entire face up. "Roommate," he managed. Not a complete lie, and it reminded the other that eventually people will look for him.

[heroeswork]

Junkies usually roomed with other junkies, so Billy wasn't worried int he least. Days could pass before they were noticed as missing. And by then he could be through. Feed Mike enough Oxy that he'd be written off as an OD, no questions asked.

"Hope he's not expecting you back by curfew," Billy remarked, seemingly unconcerned. He just grabbed the fallen roll of tape. And with some careful maneuvering he set to taping both wrists together. Not exactly concerned with things like comfort or circulation.

[fabricatings]

It shows. Mike's wrists are tied tight together and he swears he can feel his pulse with just how little room there is. It's one of the strangest feelings in the world.

All of this stress, all of whatever he's doing--mike is feeling in pain again. He swears so, especially with where the other hit him.

"Earlier you gave me what I wanted," he says quickly. oxy. "Why?"

[heroeswork]

Billy didn't respond right away. He was distracted by tearing the duct tape and ensuring the other's wrists were secure. With one hand and his teeth, he tore off a long strip of tape and pushed Mike's wrists up closer to the door. And started using that long strip to secure the wrists to the leather handle, where one would grip to pull the door shut.

"Wanted to make sure you'd be able to keep it up," Billy said with an apparent smirk in his voice. "Had to get rid of those withdrawal symptoms if we were gonna have any fun tonight." He let go of his work with one hand to give Make a firm pat on the cheek.