(Three)

Butch Madison sat in his chair, having no idea that the day he was finishing was actually the first day of a whole new life. He was a strange man, both an African American by birth and a powerful mutant. He would have to be, he was the leader of the Outkasts and one of the most influential men on Earth, though most of the tiny humans milling below him had no idea.

Butch was sitting up high in his Manhattan penthouse, a king among men. Butch was comfortable at his desk, reading his paper ( it had been a trying day and it was better late than never ) and drinking an after supper coffee. It was growing late in the evening, almost ten at night now, but he wasn't much of a sleeper. He was growing old, in his late fifties, and it just seemed like he needed sleep less and less these days.

His inability to sleep had nothing to do with his mutation. His special gift allowed him access to anywhere at any time. He could vaporize his body and literally become a living ghost. When vaporized, he was invisible to all forms of security and the human eye. He was also scentless in that state and would be able to waltz right by Wolverine completely undetected if he wanted to. He could not only vaporize himself, he could also vaporize any non organic objects with him such as weapons and any item he might be stealing at the time. The truth was, he was really a telekinetic so powerful that he was controlling his body on a molecular level, breaking it apart and willing it back together again. He was an omega mutant.

He was also a cripple. Deformed at birth, his right arm was shrunken and curled, he had only three fingers on that hand. He considered it something of an insult from God that he could manipulate his body at will, yet had never been able to properly reconstruct his damaged limb. He was however, able to use this power to heal himself. It was not a true healing factor in Wolverine's sense, but he could be injured, then vaporize, and reconstruct his body, essentially nullifying the wound. He had to be conscious to do this, but thankfully, he had never been so badly wounded that he hadn't been able to manage it. It had certainly added to his natural life span. In spite of being in his fifties, he looked no more than twenty. He didn't suffer from the aches and pains of a man his age, he was still quite spry and limber, more than capable of performing his craft.

Teased most of his childhood for being a cripple, his mutation more than compensated for the torture. He had used his abilities to become a master thief that could put Remy completely to shame. He was responsible for countless robberies on a scale that couldn't really be measured. More than that he was a dabbler in world politics. Because his primary goal was the gathering of wealth, he needed things to be fairly stable. If the world economies collapsed, there would be no value in his loot. He'd had a bit of a scare with the North Koreans and their nukes. He thought for sure they were going to blow the poor planet right off its axis and he simply couldn't have that disrupting his property values. He gathered his team and quietly took care of it when it seemed that no one else would. Being powerful had made it so easy. Later, he had the weapons quietly destroyed by a member of his team, nukes were too volatile to simply have hanging around for any moron to use.

Butch looked up from his newspaper when there was a soft knock on his door.

"Come."

The door opened and Thomas Sayle, his Second in Command came in. "Terrel is back. He brought you a present."

Butch looked up in surprise. Terrel Barnes was a mole, one of several plants he'd had in Jael's court for some time. He was feeding back whatever information he could find to Butch. For him to be here meant he had either been found out or Jael was gone. Terrel was a slim blonde, an energy producer as were most of Butch's people. Energy producers were the most powerful of the mutants in Butch's eyes, the most able to defend themselves against an ordinary human adversary. If not for their difference in looks, Terrel could have been one of Remy's relations, he shared Remy's enhanced agility and ease with weapons. His eyes were normal however, a fine cobalt blue.

Butch nodded at his Second. "Send him in."

Tom left and Terrel came in. He wasn't alone, beside him was a mysterious person wrapped in a long deep robe, obscuring his face. This wasn't the usual clothing one would expect to see these days, only adding to the mystery. Terrel himself was beaming, glad to be home. He had been asking to be set free from Jael for a while now and was happy to be here. "Hey, boss," he greeted as if his being here wasn't the least bit unusual at all.

"Tom said you brought me a present," Butch replied, just a hint of irritation in his voice. He didn't like disruptions, they usually meant trouble.

"Here she is," Terrel said, pulling back the hood of his tagalong and revealing a gorgeous blond woman. One who was clearly frightened - she was leaning against Terrel for support and looking around her nervously.

Butch sighed in impatience. He knew Terrel had been wanting off his post and he was a reasonable guy, but this offering of female flesh wasn't going to get him off the hook. So stupid of Terrel to think such a flimsy ruse would even work or be found acceptable. Butch didn't like the idea of disciplining his men, but he wasn't above it. Order had to be maintained. His voice was threatening pain as he spoke, "I told you not to bring whores up here. Now why are you here and not at Jael's?"

Terrel frowned, but his eyes were merry. He said with ersatz misery, "Boss, you wound me. This ain't no whore. She's a Siskan."

"And what exactly is that?"

Terrel grinned. "I don't have a clue, but they're not human and everybody's fighting over them. I think they're some kind of machine."

"I think you need to stop smoking whatever Crack you're on, Terrel, and get back to your post before Jael knows you're gone."

"No, look," Terrel insisted, asking for patience. "She's got one of them Marks, see?"

Terrel pulled back her robe, speaking softly to the poor frightened girl. Butch's eyes went wide when he saw that not only was she breathtakingly nude and a super model quality specimen of human flesh, her torso was covered in a bright red Mark. He had seen this before of course. He was a powerful guy, was Butch. He had plants not only in Jael's camp but in Xavier's as well. Along the way, several photographs of both Kimble and Seth had made their way to his table, and one or two of Fallen as well. This tattoo was not exactly new, only curious.

"What's your name, girl?" Butch asked, not unkindly. He could see she was scared.

"Cheeree, sir. Are-are you my Master now?"

He cocked his head at that. "Why would anyone be your Master?"

"Because all Siskans have to have Masters. Jael used to be mine, but he- he was going to kill me and Terrel saved me."

"Why would Jael want to kill you?"

Tears leaked from her eyes. "Because I found my Angel and he took it already! He's a very bad man, sir! Please, don't make me go back! He'll kill us all! I tried to get a message to the Gifted One, but he must not have heard me because my brothers and sisters are dead! Dead! He's killing us all!"

Terrel gripped her tightly, offering her comfort. "She's hysterical, sir. I don't know what she's going on about, but Jael did have a bunch of girls with Marks like this, a private harem that he shared with the top brass. He started out with eleven or so and then he fought some other guy and then there was a whole bunch of them. Over time, they were all disappearing, you know? I checked it out and he was killing them off, said they were too much of a pain in the ass to take care of."

"Why?"

"They feed on energy from cubes," Terrel explained, digging into a deep coat pocket to fish out a set of black cubes. "These cubes are like a battery, they charge up with energy like mine and then the Siskans use the cubes to power up. I guess Jael thought it was too much of a hassle to keep feeding them. I don't see why, they supposedly all have powers."

"Really? What kind of powers?" Butch asked, more than a little intrigued. He no longer believed Terrel was having him on. This was a welcome distraction in an otherwise dull day.

"I don't know, they're just supposed to be awesome in bed. Like they can tell what you want without you even having to ask. All of his officers were falling all over themselves to get to them. Jael lorded over them like some kind of king. A selfish one, I guess. He'd rather kill them than share with too many."

Butch nodded, trying to absorb it all. He wasn't entirely comfortable with this conversation, they were speaking about this girl like she wasn't still just standing there. Still, there was much he was trying to learn and understand. He had an idea that this was going to be very important. "Who is the Gifted One she keeps talking about?"

Terrel grinned. "Remy LeBeau if you can believe it, sir. She said he was an X-man with red and black eyes. Only one of those that I know about."

Butch snorted rough laughter. "Oh? And what's he so gifted about?"

Terrel shared the amusement. "Maybe she got wind of what he's got in his pants, sir. I hear he was quite the ladies man."

"Yes, but he's married now, what a shame. He's a bio-producer, a rather powerful one - or was anyway. He was mixed up with Essex of all people, that Sinister guy. LeBeau's not so strong now," Butch replied thoughtfully. Once Butch had thought to recruit Remy for the Outkasts, but then changed his mind when he saw what Sinister had done. Butch couldn't fathom why Remy would allow someone to essentially neuter his powers like that, but for each his own, he guessed. Still, stories of the thief's exploits had crossed his table now and again, always worth a laugh or two. Gambit liked to thumb his nose at authority, a trait Butch shared.

"Yeah, well, she's got some idea about him," Terrel tossed out, regaining Butch's attention.

Butch was listening and looked at the girl. He was struck not only by her beauty, but by the way she didn't care that they were speaking about her, like she was used to being ignored or treated like an object. Butch didn't like it and his voice was kind as he asked, "Cheeree, if I told you I could get a message to the Gifted One, would you like that?"

Cheeree's face brightened immediately, only adding to her natural charm. "Oh yes, sir!"

"Good," Butch said, unable to hide his smile at her delight. She was very pretty in a child like way, like he had just offered her candy. "But first you have to tell me why he's so special."

"He's a human with the Kundatesh, sir. That just doesn't happen."

"Kundatesh? What's that?"

"I can't explain it, you have to feel it."

"Then show me."

"Will you be my Master?" she challenged first, showing some spunk for the first time. Her nervousness was fading, but she was still frightened and hoping for some sign that perhaps her nightmare with Jael was over.

Butch sat a minute, considering. She was looking at him boldly now and he had to admit he wasn't minding it one bit. She was beautiful and he couldn't fathom why Jael would destroy any such as her, human or not. It was a puzzle well worth the time deciphering. Deciding on a whim, he waved his hand casually and replied, "Sure. Why not?"

Cheeree smiled then with a girlish laugh, a simple thing that enhanced a face already too lovely to forget. She left Terrel's side and came to him, kneeling down at her new Master's feet. Still smiling, she slid her hands slowly over his thighs, her eyes gleaming with benevolent mischief. With a soft gasp of pleasure, she let him have a taste of her power.

"Oh, good Lord!" Butch gasped with a thready laugh, shuddering as his body exploded with heat and desire, like someone had run a warm hand over every pleasure center in his brain. He had tried many drugs in his youth, but nothing had made him feel like this. He was instantly hard and shaking, his heart hammering in his chest. Empath! - his brain shrieked at him in warning, his well educated mind recognizing this magic well enough. It was every gang leader's worst fear that they might get taken over by an empath, or worse, a true telepath. Butch wouldn't give up his control without a fight. Just the same, she certainly didn't seem very threatening. He would take a chance and play this out, see where it went.

Terrel laughed at Butch's blatant reaction to Cheeree's use of power, his smile wide. "Whatever that was, boss, it shure looked like fun."

"Uh, oh! Lord have mercy!" Butch laughed again, shaking his head now. "Maybe you'd best leave us a while!"

Terrel crossed his arms, pretending irritation. "Only if I can stay home. I ain't goin' back to Jael - not that I know where his sorry ass is anyhow."

"Yes! Yes! You can stay!" Butch said, still shaking his head with amusement. He had spoken to Terrel, but his eyes were only on Cheeree who was smiling at him devilishly now, her eyes all playful invitation.

Terrel nodded. "Thanks. Have fun." He left, laughing, and shut the door behind him.

Butch looked down on Cheeree, his smile wide. "Now then, my pet. Explain to me some more about this Master/Siskan/ Kundatesh thing. Take your time, dear. We've got all night."

(break)

Seth was dreaming. He had been working too hard again, rushing to make the final preparations before the construction of his new shuttle craft could begin. It was late morning, but Seth had been up all night working and had finally conked out, his head down on the kitchen table, his arms tucked under his head as a pillow, his fingers twitching slightly.

It wasn't a happy dream though it didn't start out that way. He was out on the tarmac, his newly completed Dragon craft gleaming in the sun. Several large tables had been set out and a generous spread of food and drink had been laid out, the X-men were celebrating his accomplishment in style.

Seth was laughing gaily, he was surrounded by friends and family and all of them were happy to be near him. Kimble was there with Aiden and they were all drinking and laughing. Seth was starved, hungry like he had never been before. He went to the table, awed by the bounty spread before him. He grabbed a plate and began piling on food, but when he started to eat, found that the food had no taste or substance, it was nothing more than an illusion. Here he was, starving near to death, and yet could not satisfy himself from this table.

No one noticed his troubles. They all kept slapping him on the back and adding more of the empty useless food onto his plate. He kept trying to eat, but was always and forever hungry. Furious, he flung his plate into the crowd and attacked the tables, tipping one over and dumping its contents onto the ground. The people around him laughed and laughed, the noise turning from fun into something more malevolent, vibrations of their cruelty and teasing began to come down on him like an evil rain. It didn't escape his notice these hurtful ones were all his human friends, his Siskan kin had momentarily vanished as if wanting no part in this.

Seth shouted curses at all these evil, mean people, hating them for their lack of understanding. Never had the gulf between them been so obvious. He cried out as he was shoved from behind, cruelly tumbled down onto his knees and into the sticky mess. He was pinned, arms and bodies all around him. He thrashed in the debris of his anger, somehow becoming horribly, terribly aroused from the slickness of all that food spilt underneath him. He looked up only to see an ocean of naked humans writhing all around him now, the banquet had become an orgy. One by one, they all began to climax in a circle around him, bombarding him with vibrations of their pleasure while he himself could do nothing but thrash in the mess he had made, again unsatisfied.

"Seth."

He groaned at the sound of his name though he wasn't clear who had spoken. He tried to right himself but he was a mess. He was still thrashing when warm hands caught him and lifted him. There was no surprise when he realized that the one who had saved him was Aiden, a Siskan like himself. "Come wit' me."

Seth allowed himself to be lifted to his feet but fell against his rescuer, not quite able to stand on his own. It was okay, Aiden didn't seem to mind one bit that Seth was slithering against him. "Zere isz szo much to learn, and yet, szo leetle time. Are you ready?"

Seth was unsure of the question, but was more than certain he wanted more of what Aiden seemed to be offering. Aiden's shine was crimson red, his desire obvious and finding an answer in Seth's own. Seth didn't answer in words, he lunged forward to capture Aiden in a bruising kiss, shivering all the harder when it was returned without restraint.

It was a long moment before Aiden broke away for air, laughing now. "Zere isz not'ing like Sziszkan love. Not'ing comesz closze. Szee? Keemble and I will show you disz. Disz and szo much more."

Seth raised his eyes to meet Kimble's own. His brother had come up behind Aiden, slipping his arms around them both. "You haves no idear, little brother. No idear a'tall," he mumbled in agreement, his mouth smiling with the thought of it. He made his point by leaning over Aiden's shoulder to give Seth a kiss just as heated as the one he had shared with Aiden.

Seth was reeling, his legs buckling from sheer want. This was right, this was meant to be. And he wanted it above nothing else. All his pain would be gone if he would just do this thing, he knew it now. Kimble would help him, Kimble would fix this. And if he was lucky, Aiden would help him along with it as well. Such a lovely thought, having them both. "Please!" he cried, his hands outstretched. "Make it stop!"

"We'll helps ya, Seth. Don'tcha worrys about nuthin'. Alls ya gotta do is ask."

Seth never got that chance. Just as he opened his mouth to speak he was grabbed from behind, his Mistress had caught him. "You can't!" she shouted possessively. "You're mine! Always mine! And I never share!"

Seth snapped awake with a choked scream of anger and frustration. He was sitting alone in the apartment, not outside, and certainly not trapped in some strange new reality. He was however still fully aroused, the pain of it burning in his own mind. The imaginary kisses from his Siskan kin still blazed on his lips like hot cinnamon, making him mad. He rose on stiff legs, stumbling to the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He fumbled with the shower, shivering off his clothes and stepping into the water, groaning in relief when it hit his fevered skin. He snatched at the soap and slicked his hands, wasting no time in bringing his hands to where he needed it most. Two strokes and he was cumming, shaking from it and gasping out his troubles to the water pouring over him. That should have been it, but of course, it wasn't. Just like in his dream, he was still hungry. He remained hard and aching, only a little less in heat than he had been before.

"Please!" Seth sobbed to no one, shaking now. Whatever was plaguing him was growing worse. He was unsettled, unhappy and worst of all, almost continuously aroused. Fallen was indulging him, letting him play more often but it wasn't enough. He wanted more, nothing around him was killing this terrible longing inside.

He jerked off again, taking longer to finish, but ending with little more satisfaction than before. By then the water was turning cold and he was forced to shut it off. He stood there, shivering and crying, unsure of what to do. He wanted desperately to talk to Kimble, but his brother was trashed and in far worse trouble than his own stupid mess. Remy was stuck coping with Kimble and it was selfish to ask for any of his time. There was no one he could turn to.

He jerked when there was a knock on the door. "Seth? Are you in there? Why is this door locked?" Fallen had come home and was even now using her power to unlock the door before the last of her questions had finished. She stood in the doorway, her brow crinkled in consternation. "Are you okay?"

He swallowed and nodded. "I just had a shower."

She took in the sight of him shivering against the back wall, dripping with water and still fully aroused. He claimed to have simply showered, but she knew better. He had been in heat and had tried to do something about it, something that hadn't worked, obviously. This was happening a lot with him, like he was going through some kind of strange puberty. Over the years he had always been steady, matching her pace, but ever since they had moved here, something had him wound up tight most of the time.

Fallen had been trying to pass this off as some kind of phase, but with each day, as Seth's strangeness continued to grow worse, she became ever more fearful for him. Was he breaking? She contented herself with the answer that Seth was merely exceptionally horny, not speaking in voices. Maybe he just needed more attention. He was too often by himself now. Perhaps all he needed was her. "It's cold in here, come on," she said, offering her hand.

He took it and she led him away to their bedroom. She offered him her body and he took that as well, feeling far more sated when they were done. The itch was still there, but it was static now in the back of his mind, her vibrations of love had killed the worst of his ache. He was wrapped in her arms, feeling her lovely heart beating and the heat of her body warming him. She was stroking his now damp hair back gently with her claws. "You okay now?"

"I guess I've been a little stressed out," he offered as an excuse. It wasn't far from the truth. He had his project, Kimble was a mess, things just never seemed to settle down. And there were the vibrations of course, but he tried not to think about that. The best he could hope for was that this phase would end itself soon.

"It will pass," Fallen promised, holding him tight. It was the best she could offer, not knowing the cause of this strange phase he was going through. She simply hoped that if she said it enough times, it would come to pass. It had occurred to her to speak with Gambit about it, but there were times she felt the thief's judgement. She knew he didn't approve of her keeping Seth isolated. He didn't understand how it was better to keep a Siskan's world small. That had to be the reason Kimble was always screwing up, Remy was constantly thrusting Kimble at the world when it so obviously didn't want him. No, she could take care of Seth on her own. All she needed was a little time.

"As long as I have you, it will be okay," Seth mumbled in agreement, grasping on to her words of comfort, her very being. "I love you so much. Don't ever let me go."

"I won't," she replied, holding him that much tighter. She was grateful for his words, they seemed to echo her own thoughts. They could do this together without anyone's help. "I won't."

(break)

The days passed and Aiden had been working steadily on at the loading docks, making his money and settling in. He was disappointed that in all that time, Kimble hadn't sought him out once. He understood that Kimble was upset and needed some time, that he wasn't stable. Just the same, Aiden couldn't help but feel a little put out.

After three days of nothing, Aiden was tired of waiting. He sacrificed some time with Babette to sneak away to where he knew Kimble might be out to sun himself. He was correct in thinking so, the pilot was there sitting quietly. At least he was. When he saw Aiden approach, he rose quickly and fled for the stairs. Aiden gave chase, but was stopped by the man Logan had assigned to the pilot. Like Aiden, Kimble was also under a close watch. Aiden didn't want to make a scene so he backed off.

It was the same the next time he tried to make contact. On Aiden's third attempt to speak with him, Kimble grew more aggressive in his dismissal. The pilot hissed and swung at Aiden, landing a blow the Dreamer had been too shocked to prepare for. "I hates you! I hates you ferever!" Kimble screamed, the lie rolling off his tongue even as the tears poured from his eyes.

Leave him! Father snarled. He's given up on us, we don't need him!

He's scared, Talalanay whispered, hoping for peace. We frighten him.

"Fuck you!" Aiden howled at Kimble, spitting in his rage.

Kimble just shuddered and turned away, his vibrations of pain and suffering meaningless to the one he had so offended. Aiden knew when to take a hint. He left the scene as well, stomping back to his apartment and throwing a fit of rage, smashing the mirror in the bathroom and sobbing into the small carpet there. Babette thumped on the door but he wouldn't let her in until he was spent. She took him to bed and soothed his aching heart. It wasn't enough, she knew that, but she was a comfort. The Dreamer dropped off into a fitful sleep, dreaming his nightmares. He woke screaming and when a shot of whiskey didn't help, he went back to work, throwing boxes around until he was exhausted.

Father was impatient with their progress. We've got to do better than this, Dreamer. This keeps us too far away from Angel. We cannot look after her here.

Aiden nodded to himself. He understood that this was the whole point of their being here. So far he had done little to further that goal and now things didn't look too promising. "What choicze do I 'ave but to work 'ere? Beszides, ze money isz good," he argued, speaking aloud in the Muzla without a care of the stares coming his way from the ones who worked nearby.

Let's talk to Logan again, Father offered. If we are civil, then maybe he'll let us work for him after all. He likes us in his way. Just don't be stupid.

Thinking that perhaps he had proven himself, Aiden was bold enough to try. He made his way down to Logan's office and softly knocked on the open door.

Wolverine glanced up, surprised to see him there. "Z?"

"Can we szpeak for a moment?'

"Sure," Logan pushed his papers aside and gestured to the chair.

Aiden sat, nervously brushing a hand through his hair. Being very direct, he got right to the point. "Aiden wishesz to work for you."

Logan wasn't expecting that. "Don't have any openings right now, but if I did I would still have to ask you why."

"Aiden isz... I am concerned about ze szecurity 'ere. Mebbe I could 'elp out. You szee I am good fighter."

"I also see that you've got a temper. You also don't have much respect for the rules."

Aiden frowned, insulted. "Zere 'asz been no trouble, yesz? Aiden 'asz been good."

"Fer three whole days."

Aiden growled, he couldn't help it. He was wasting his time. He stood and started to walk out, but was stopped by a noise from Logan. He looked back and waited.

"Why you really want to work for me? I ain't buyin' what you said first."

Aiden hesitated, debating how much he could trust this man. He offered this, "Aiden dreamsz t'ingsz dat might 'appen. Moszt timesz, 'e szee t'ingsz not szo good."

Logan nodded, considering. He had known of Aiden's nightmares of course. So far no explanation had been forthcoming. What he couldn't know for certain was if this long awaited confession was the truth. This Siskan had no scent, no heartbeat, things that Wolverine generally used to tell if someone was lying or trying to pull something on him. Feeling indulgent, he let Aiden go on. "What kinds of things?"

Aiden closed his eyes and looked away, his face tired and sad. His voice was soft as he explained, "Dere'sz gonna be a war when Jael come. I szee ze bodiesz of ze dead, black uniformsz like you X'sz wear. I don't know 'ow I know, but I know you will fail unlessz I do szometing... I don' alwaysz undersztand what I szee, only dat it szcare me. I would feel better if I could 'elp out, me."

Logan rubbed his chin, trying to decide if Aiden's display of vulnerability was an act designed to play on his sympathies or if the Siskan was truly in pain over this and suffering. The timing of this was nagging at him, Aiden should have spoken up before this. This confession wasn't telling him anything he hadn't guessed might happen himself and there wasn't anything here to convince him that he should grant this Siskan any special privilege. Besides, he had other considerations to worry about as well. "I've been working with a bunch of teams on the security here. You've got nothing to worry about."

Aiden cocked his head. "You szay no to Aiden?"

"I think some of my men might be uncomfortable with you on the team."

Aiden snorted. "Why? Becausze dey t'ink Aiden isz queer?"

Logan shifted, uncomfortable with this line of questioning though he knew it had to be dealt with. "I don't think they like how 'in your face' you are about it, yes."

"You diszcriminate againszt me. Who I chosze to fuck doesz not affect my ability to fight, to keep o'dersz 'ere szafe."

Logan winced inwardly, not sure how to respond. "I discriminate against those who go out of their way to cause trouble. I can't have that on a team. I need to know that everyone is going to give everything they have. You upset people. Mutants here are just as prejudiced as the humans out there, it's in our nature I guess. Would stop it if I could, but it ain't never gonna happen."

Aiden nodded, satisfied that this was going nowhere. He would just have to find another way to achieve his goal. Perhaps if he was lucky and enough time passed, he could increase his security clearances. If he had access to Remy's floor and kept in the thief's good favor, he could get to Angel another way. He knew he had to establish a relationship with her, he had to meet her and build her trust, seeing it as the only way she would accept him as her protector. His motives were completely pure, he wanted no more angels to die. He wanted to beat the Game.

Done with this conversation, Aiden didn't bother to say anything more. He simply walked out, not caring that Logan rose and tried to say something after him. He left and went back to work, pulling a double set before realizing he had left Babette too long. On his way out, a co-worker offered him a deal he hadn't the mind to refuse. As much as there was security in this place, it was impossible for black market dealing to be shut down, that much Aiden had learned quickly. He turned down the offers of drugs, but not something a little more to his taste. He blew a day's pay on an illegal case of whiskey, no one was allowed to buy so much at once without running a club. He brought it home, making some excuse to his guard who never bothered to check the box. Aiden then had a little party with his sister, drinking himself silly, drowning his misery and frustration.