The Land of Brains and Fire, the land where all deals are made and concealed. Black slick tentacles wiggle out of the brain grounds, reaching for a dark rosewood sky. Deals of trade, equivalent exchange, and Faygo all take place here.
Faygo is the wicked elixir, the alcohol of Alternia. Everyone drank it, especially the high class and rich. When it was banned, people went insane. Protests and riots ripped Alternia apart, causing chaos and anarchy. People tried hallucinogens, money, the pure ecstasy of sex, but none of it could be the same as the bubbly forbidden drink flowing down a dry desperate throat.
Under the slimy tentacle lamp off of the corner of Smarts Street and Amber Avenue, stands a man, Gamzee Makara. A man who wears nothing but royal purple and betrayal black, stripes in the coat and tie, polka dots in the pants and fedora. His black hair curls out of the fedora, needing a good wash. With clown paint plastered on his sinister face, this man has placed himself in the Faygo business: Illegal Marketing Division. If you need a frosty brew straight out of the forbidden factory, he is your man. For a reasonable price, of course.
The regular customer saunters in, as Gamzee fixes his tie. His sneaky smile turned into a threatening frown. "Hey, bro," Gamzee husks out. "Ya got my money?"
The customer tries to stay calm, counting his money as if he were counting his last days. Twenty, thirty, forty… It wasn't enough. Once again the money is short, not enough to buy the number of bottles he craves. What will he do?
"I-I, uh-"
"Is that a no?" Gamzee reaches for his back, where his Colt M1911A1 named "Honk" was stored. When its trigger is pulled, it glitches a honk loud enough for anyone three feet away to turn their head and question.
The customer panics. "No! I have the money!"
"You better." Gamzee brings his hand back, gun less.
"Here, forty dollars for two bottles," the buyer utters, as he hands the dirty money into the dealer's sinful hands. "Now, give me the Fay-"
"Shhh!" Gamzee slams the doomed buyer into the tentacle lamp, cutting off the circulation between head and body with his elbow. Air was quickly escaping, and blocked off from the poor sap's lungs from oxygen. He clawed Gamzee's arm in desperation. Gamzee looked around. Brains, fire, tentacles, dark, but luckily no witnesses. Gamzee tightens the push.
"I wouldn't be saying shit like that out loud without thinking first, bro. It just might get you into a… tight spot."
The airless man nods his worthless head in understanding. Gamzee backs away and lets the customer catch his breath.
"This is the last time you fuck up an order, bastard." Gamzee sneers as he walks back into the darkness. His work here was done. He came, he threatened, he didn't get full payment, and he now exeunts.
But not without firing a bullet in the man's head.