The empty room was dark and frigid. Spaced out and unfocused, the weird kid with spiky green hair and knee high leather boots shouldered open the door with just a bit too much force. Throwing his jacket on a chair, and missing by almost a foot, he ran his hand against the wall to find the light switch. Without a sound, suddenly his hands were cuffed behind his back and his chest was pushed roughly up against the cheap plaster. A voice in his ear whispered loudly.

"Where is it?" The kid blinked rapidly in the almost non existent light, trying to push against the pressure on his back to no avail. He was stuck.

"What?" He croaked, voice raspy with disuse.

"The shipment, I'm gonna relieve you of it." The voice, undoubtedly female, was confident, assured.

"What makes you think that?" A click, and there was a gun against his neck.

"Shit," he exhaled. "You a nark?"

"Not exactly." The woman finally moved back enough for him to turn around and see her, the gun trained firmly at his face.

"I'm gonna take the stuff, any questions? She smiled at him in the dark, her straight hair partially obscuring her pale face. Stepping back further, she motioned with her gun.

"Sit on that chair. Now." The kid complied, not knowing any alternative. Quickly, the woman duct taped him to the chair.

"What's your name, kid?" She asked, leering at him.

"Zane." He choked out.

"Got any friends, Zane? With a stash that large, I'd assume you have quite a few." Her smile was scaring him, her calm demeanor unnerving.

"Yeah, well, I usually go to them." He didn't know why he answered the menial question, but he did.

"Well then, Zane, you better hope that someone happens to drop by, cause, you know, I wouldn't want a fine upstanding citizen like yourself to happen to cash in." That damn smile.

"Why?" He asked, confused.

"This" Having placed the gun on the floor, she stuck a syringe carefully into his neck, pushing down the plunger in seconds. Immediately, the kid began to feel heavy, like wet cement.

"It's a long acting paralytic, don't want you doing anything stupid." She laughed, deep in the throat, as she pulled something out of her pocket. "If someone can get you to a hospital, there's a common antidote." With this she stuffed the contents of her pocket, a fistful of white flowers, into his mouth. Retrieving her gun and standing up, she stared into his unblinking eyes before going to find the pound of cocaine he had hidden under his desk. She had it in less than five minutes as he stared straight ahead, unable to move, barely breathing around the flowers halfway down his throat. She was out the door six minutes later, leaving the kid wondering whether he would ever make it out of the room.