Session ten:

Rung Pharmaceutical Industries almost didn't exist. If Spike had blinked he might have walked right past the door tucked between two buildings in the manufacturing segment of town. A machinist's shop hugged one side, and a glass manufacturer on the other. The only hint the deep set door went elsewhere was a small sign with the name. Noises carried through from the shops on either side. No one wandered by.

Perfect neighborhood for a covert operation.

Spike lit a cigarette. After putting his lighter away, he waved a hand for the guys to stay outside. Opening the door, he strode in with one hand in his pocket, the other gripping a briefcase. No one manned the barred off service window. The joint reminded him of a bank behind bullet proof glass. Around the waiting room, posters of grinning children holding flowers lined the moisture stained brick walls. In the poster corners they advertised medications. He bent down, ignoring the name, and instead read through the ultra-fine print listing the side-effects pondering who would even risk some of these. What the heck is hypertrichosis?

Foot steps caught his attention. He turned to the window to find a woman with frizzy brown hair wearing a lab coat. Her hand rested on her hip as she observed her visitor. "Alright suit, you're not with the government. So, I'll give you two seconds to tell me what you want."

He straightened and cocked a little grin. "What's this stuff treat? With all the flowers I'd guess allergies?"

"Cute." She folded her arms changing the angle of a name tag. Dr. Dex T. Ross. "How long did it take you to come up with that?"

"Probably longer than it took you to come up with your alias …," his smile broadened, "Sugar."

She drummed her fingers. "Who's been talking?"

"An associate of mine found your lab for me. Don't worry, I'm not here to shut you down."

"You and your posse outside?" Sugar laughed. "Good. Cause you're standing in the middle of a real bad place if you were. I suggest not taking a step until I tell you otherwise, capisce?"

Spike's eyes didn't even search the room. He just nodded. This was nothing but a reassurance that he was standing in the presence of someone who knew how to protect their ass.

Leaning forward, Sugar rubbed her chin. "Hang on, you're the one behind the rumors, ain't yah. Gotta be. Word's gotten around about a group playing in the shadows and putting a serious crimp on the market."

He shook his head. "Not a crimp. Just a monopoly. I take it you and I are talking the same spectrum here."

She made a rude noise. "Don't make me laugh. Ya basic, bro."

Spike cocked his head. "What does that even mean?"

Ignoring him, she snapped her fingers. "I've seen a number of your kind come and go. All's I know is that when I started the current batch, I had a secure buyer. Now, thanks to you, I don't. That's not a real happy position for something that takes two-months to make, no matter how much it can rake in."

Spike lifted a shoulder. "I can level with you there. Fact is, what I got isn't going to hold out long. So, you could say I am an interested party."

"How interested?" She glared down her nose.

Opening the case, Spike turned it around to show her the stacks of woolongs. "That interested."

Her hand stabbed a button, the door to her left buzzed open. Spike carried the open case through and held it out to her. Her eyes jumped over the contents, lips counting in silence. "For how much?"

"Down payment on the first batch, provided it's premium. Regular contract to follow."

Not looking up she snatched the cigarette from his mouth and ground it into the counter. "No flames. There's a lot of volatile fumes back here." The door shut and an electro-mag lock engaged. "And yes, the Red Eye I brew here is the highest grade in the system. Come see for yourself."

He followed her through the front rooms where equipment turned glassware full of boiling liquids. Only a couple of staff members worked diligently at the desks. They didn't even glance up as she passed by with Spike in tow. She stopped at a blank wall and flashed an ID. Instantly the gap appeared as the wall slid back out of the way. An automatic light clicked on in the antiseptic chamber. Through a series of tubes, red fluid boiled gently pushed up and around curves in pulses.

Sugar took him past it to a rack. She pulled out one of dozens of trays. All of them full of scores of tubes. "Go ahead. I know the routine. You wanna test the goods. This is my QT stock. One vial from every batch originating from here. If you can find a single vial that doesn't score a full red on the gauge, I'll give you a discount."

"Pretty ballsy." Pulling out the meter, Spike selected one at random. It maxed out the gauge. He took another, near the top. Two more shivered just below the top. "Red Eye is notoriously difficult to brew. How did you manage to get such stable results?"

"Intuition." Sugar flashed a grin. "My dumb-ass brother may have all but given the recipe to the Red Dragons. But it wasn't him who created, nor perfected it. That credit goes to me, not Keith."

Spike glanced back toward where the others were working on the lab's front practice. "Lemme guess, Keith's in hot water working under you now?"

"Nuh uh. The dope is in deep cold water back on Mars. Happened years ago when some psychopath blew up the entire dock warehouse he was squatting in. Served his ass right, the lowlife thief."

A vision popped in Spike's head. A mess of a man peering over a work desk with shattered glassware. Vicious's initial supply of this drug. The C-4 Spike had planted going into the warehouse to cover his 'death'. Keith … oh, that Keith. Oops. Well, he hadn't suffered—for long.

"In the long run," Sugar continued, "I'm better off. After that ridiculous fiasco, I took the formula and left that rats nest. Ganymede is a much nicer place. And out here I was always welcome to take the highest bidder."

"Well then, that takes us to the next part of this." Spike put the gauge in his pocket and locked eyes with her. "I do expect exclusive distribution from your lab."

She flashed him a stern stare. "Then you better remain the highest bidder. So far, you got a real solid lead, Mr. Shadow."

After finishing the details, she escorted Spike to the locked door and waved him out. The first thing he did after emerging outside among Kev, Chains, and Al was pull out a cigarette and light it.

Al blinked, "Where's the case?"

Exhaling slowly, Spike tucked the lighter away. "Where it belongs."

Kev jerked upright. "You mean we got … "

He nodded.

"Then … we're really a … a real … really real … "

Spike chuckled and screwed up his mohawk. "Yes. We're a legit outfit now. Don't choke on it. Take the rest of the day off, guys. Tomorrow starts the restructuring." He had started to walk off when Kev grabbed his wrist.

"Restructure? What are you talking about?"

Keeping his voice low, Spike muttered, "We're getting too big to run it like a gang. Time to specialize and spread out the crew. Some to deal and run the jobs. Some to protect. Some to handle the covert accounting. There is more to this than just slipping shots under the cops noses."

Al swallowed. "Pro-protect … you talking enforcers?"

The poker chip appeared and flipped into the air. He snatched it with a fierce grin. "Every empire has the danger of invaders. And I didn't set this shit up to get taken out. We need to secure our supply lines."

Kev smoothed his mohawk back in place. "If anyone knows enforcer material, that's you, man." He grabbed the other two by the shoulders and steered them down the road. "Come on, there's a bar I saw on the way here I wanna check out."

On his own, Spike watched them wander off. The weight of his hidden gun reassured him that there were no worries. With a cigarette hanging out of his mouth he wandered through the streets of the city away from the waterfront. Closer to the central district, by a park his stomach complained loud enough to be heard over the traffic.

"Alright, alright. I hear ya." His eye caught a street vendor, the scent of cooking meat filled the air. "Hrm, been ages since I had a cheeseburger." Wandering over, he leaned against the cart as he waited for his order. The cook at the grill didn't look up much as he tended the food. All good as far as Spike was concerned. He enjoyed the park's ambiance as he gazed at Jupiter's immense expanse half-blocking the sky in a swirl of oranges and reds. He'd never really stopped to observe how alluring the twists of colors were.

Lost in the sight, the cook gave him a slight startle. "Order up."

"Thanks." Spike took the double-decker cheeseburger and found a seat by the fountain. The park was largely deserted, business hours and too early for the lunch rush. He enjoyed the solitude as he leaned back on his elbows savoring a simple meal.

A shout disrupted the quiet. A scrawny man in a purple hoodie practically tripped over his own feet as he dashed out of the bushes at the side of the fountain. Trying to recover off of his knees, he was seized around the neck by a burly man in a button down shirt and a tie. Spike leaned forward a touch and caught the gleam of a V shaped scar below the second man's left eye.

"Listen, you little scumbag," the scarred man spat out, "you've really screwed up now!"

"Gah! No!" the hood shrieked, "I didn't, I swear! I'm just a … "

Giving the man a good shake, packets of powder tumbled onto the pavement. A sheepish smile spread on his face a moment before a fist knocked him to the ground. "I've had my eye on you." The scarred man pulled out a pair of cuffs.

A cop. Spike trying to look unremarkable, focused his attention on his meal, watching out of the corner of his eye. Great. Well, even if he were to search me, s'not like he'd find a damn thing. Licking off his fingers, Spike stood up and strode past the cop throwing the unconscious perp over his shoulder with a grunt. With his hands on his pockets, Spike vanished into an alley. Karma smiled, for now. But he knew better.

Karma was a fickle bitch who loved to tank the odds the moment a man got comfortable. Spike flinched in the shadow of the buildings, his mind dwelling on the penthouse. Crap. Snap out of it, buddy! Keep your edge.