Shilo stood in an alley near the Zydrate Network, Zydrate-gun in hand held casually in the air, as she surveyed the Z-addicts milling about distastefully. A man with neon-blue dreadlocks and a deep complexion walked up to Shilo, a leering grin on his face. "Heey. What is a pretty thing like you doing with that stuff," he asked, arms crossed as he leaned on the wall next to Shilo, facing her.

Shilo let a showy, pleasant grin come to her face like a mask. "Peddling my wares," she said, waving the gun near the man's face. His eyes followed the glowing blue substance with hungry eyes. Shilo pulled it away before he got any ideas. She loved the thrill of this job, Shilo just hated the peddling, the addicts always made her irritated. "Now if you aren't here to get a hit, be on your way."

The man licked his lips, blackened teeth showing behind them. Shilo shuddered in disgust, they all came in a variety of colors, some addicts worse than others. "What's the price," he asked, eyes raking down Shilo's body.

"Thirty cred," Shilo responded with disdain, a grin growing onto her face at the look of surprise on his.

"That's cheap, but I don't have any cred," he said, a smirk on his face.

"Then get lost," Shilo growled. This is what irritated her, addicts thought she'd give a hit for sex. She wasn't other peddlers, that was why she made her price cheaper by half of what other peddlers had people pay. "Come back when you can pay."

The man glowered at Shilo. She noticed the look in his eye, many have had it before. He moved in on Shilo, going to press her to the wall, but was halted with the feeling of a light pain at the groin as he let out a squeak. Shilo looked up at the man, a deadly look in her eye, a sick smile on her face. "Wanna keep it," she hissed, eyes narrowing threateningly as she pressed her blade a little harder to his privates.

The man swallowed hard, hands going up as he backed away. "No hard feelings," he said, voice quavering. He didn't turn around until he was at the end of the alley, then he took off, his footsteps pounding on the ground as he ran until they faded from earshot. "Tch," Shilo shook her head, sheathing the blade into her coat. "That's the third one tonight."

In the alley where the Zydrate Network is located, Graverobber was leaning against a wall, administering Zydrate to one of the addicts. His eyes glanced up at a man as he came into the alley, heaving as though he'd been running. Once finished with the addict he was administering, Graves swaggered over to the man. He was curious as to what had the man running, addicts didn't run unless it was cops, not usually. The man looked up at Graverobber with wide eyes, his chest still heaving as he sat on the ground. "Whatchu want," the man said in one breath.

Graves chuckled, a cheshire grin on his face. "What are you running from," he asked, hands in his pockets.

The man eyed him with a contemplative eye. "I'll tell you, if I can get a hit," the man muttered, eyes drifting down to the blue glow coming from Graves pockets.

"I'll consider it. If it's interesting enough," Graverobber said, leaning down on his haunches to look the man in the eye.

"Some crazy chick man. Peddlin' the Z at only thirty cred," the man said quietly, leaning forward, and looking back and forth conspiratorially. "Nearly shoved a knife in my dick. The bitch!"

Graverobber rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his cheshire grin growing impossibly wider. Just thirty creds was cheap. If he didn't find this chick and stop her, he would have terrible competition, and that just didn't work for Graves. "Just one more question. Where is this bitch," Graverobber asked, hand gripping the Zydrate-gun in his pocket.

"A few blocks from here," the man said, jerking his thumb in a direction. His eyes widened, following the blue glow of the Zydrate coming from the gun as Graverobber pulled it out of his pocket. The man's fingers twitched in anticipation, an obvious addict. "In an alley."

"Good information," Graverobber hummed, pressing the Zydrate-gun to the man's forearm. He stood, leaving the man to sit there in his lethargic state, to go find the other peddler.