Author: quillian91
Summery: When the 'Candyman' fails to show up one rainy night, and Riff Raff begins to suffer withdrawal symptoms, the one he despises decides to take care of him. Riff has every reason to be wary…
Disclaimer: I do not own Rocky Horror Picture Show, nor do I own the characters featured in this Fanfiction. They are only being used for amusement and pleasure.
For a long defiant moment, Riff wanted to fall back to sleep, damn the consequences. However, he didn't want to upset the man anymore than he already had. Frank now knew that the best punishment he could dole out would be to use his sister against him. Anything he did to upset his master would only be taken out on Magenta. He wondered if she knew how much she meant to him. They had declared they're love for each other hundreds of times, but it seemed an inadequate word to describe his passion for her…
She was his reason for living. His beautiful, lovely, breathtaking sister. If he were to die, would she miss him as much as he would miss her? Would it shatter her? Would it kill her? No… he didn't think so. She had Frank and Columbia to take care of her, if something were to happen to him. Columbia and her were the best of friends, and the cheerful, loud groupie would cross the galaxy to help his sister. Frank… well… Riff was of the opinion that Frank didn't love anyone but Frank. Still, his Master would at least let her stay in the castle, and perhaps ease up on her a bit. The man was quite clever and would know that if he pushed Magenta too far, there was a chance that Columbia would follow, therefore removing him of his two most convenient and best playmates.
For some reason, this thought both relieved and saddened him. While he was unbelievable grateful that Magenta would be okay if something happened, he knew that if it were her who died, every bit of him would break. He would be alive in the fact that his heart was still beating and that he was breathing, but nothing beyond that.
Was he truly so terrible? That repulsive? His Master obviously thought so, despite the incident upon waking up. There wasn't any attraction in that. That was simply Frank's insatiable need for sex. He was the only one in the castle, which was reason enough for his Master to turn to him. The fact that it made Riff feel enraged and distressed only made it all the more enjoyable to the cruel, sadistic Master.
He liked to think that there was at least something good about him… Anything…? But for some reason, nothing came to mind. His protectiveness for his sister, maybe, but as her brother, it was in his blood. There was nothing honorable about that. He figured himself rather unattractive, so his looks were definitely against him. Was he that despicable that he could really find nothing in him that was the slightest bit redeeming?
No, he couldn't. He was a twitchy, suspicious, skulking; drug-addicted servant who depended on his sister more than was healthy for either of them.
"RIFF RAFF!" Came the harsh voice of his Master, instantly breaking him from his thoughts.
Edging towards the side of the bed left him feeling dizzy, and all attempts to stand up were futile. His legs didn't seem to want to support him at all, shaking and kicking as they were. Riff frowned at this. He hadn't read much about the withdrawal symptoms, but surely it shouldn't be this terrible? Shouldn't it just be a passing discomfort? At the most, a large desire for the drug…
But what he felt was no desire, large or otherwise. It was as if every single cell in his body was clawing at him, screaming for things they couldn't have. As if his blood was acid and the only thing that would save him from melting away was that sweet release. Every bone seemed to buckle, every muscle deteriorate, until there was no hope of ever getting better unless that one, small dose was administered…
His thumb was bobbing up and down franticly, and he squeezed his fists more tightly in an attempt to stop it. All his limbs seemed to be out of his control, resorting to twitching, unable to have the strength to do anything more advanced. A wave of deep shame washed over him. An infant had more control than he did!
"Really! Are your ears affected by your sickness too? Did you not hear me when I repeatedly summoned you?" Frank stormed through the curtains, leaving them flapping violently. Heals clicked on the floor as he approached his lightheaded servant. Seeing Riff Raff still seated on the bed only worsened his already dark temper. "I specifically asked you to assist me in the lab. Did I not make myself perfectly clear?"
"Yes Master. You did." The voice was disgustingly weak, and Riff Raff felt a pang of loathing at himself. He wondered if it was even worth it to try to attempt to stand. Surely being whipped would be better than being laughed at. Being beaten may be harsh, but it was only physical pain. Physical pain he could handle just fine, he had been whipped enough times for it to loose most of its effectiveness. However, being laughed at, humiliated and degraded was something he didn't handle quite so well.
"Hmph! Then what exactly is the problem? Too Tired? Too Sick? Too Aroused? Should I perhaps finish what I started, Riffy?"
Frank raised an eyebrow in a haughty manner and strutted over to a large velvet wing backed chair, plopping down on the armchair and crossing his legs wickedly, looking much like a cat ready to pounce… a cat that knows it's prey is quite caught.
Riff gritted his teeth as a wave of extreme dizziness washed over him, causing his vision to spin. He clenched his eyes shut.
"I cant."
The words seemed to wrench themselves from his mouth. He hated Frank. Hated him for doing this. If he didn't succumb to his Master's every will, it would be taken out on Magenta. His Sister, punished for things her drug-addicted Brother did. The thought of that happening made him want to scream. Let Frank take all of it. He would give everything away. Magenta had to be protected from that monster. She hadn't experienced his wrath like he had. The man was dangerous. Completely warped. His view of 'Right' and 'Wrong' was sickening. He cared nothing for his servants or his guests, or any other person but himself. To him, his servants were useful, but certainly expendable. What he couldn't control was taken out of the picture immediately.
As her brother and lover, Riff had to be here to protect Magenta, whether his protection was wanted or not. She could hate him, wish him dead, but he would still be there. He did not trust Frank around her. He never had, but now… now that Frank knew of they're secret, he would be watching her more closely than ever. He would be waiting for her to fall so that he could kick her while she was down. Riff Raff, no matter what, would make sure he caught her before she hit the ground. Let Frank beat him, rape him, anything to spare his beautiful, sweet, gentle sister that punishment.
The man himself seemed transformed. Apparently, the knowledge that this was weakness rather than disobedience changed the whole situation from a possible whipping to something far more risky. Perhaps a chance to taunt for the Master to taunt his Servant… perhaps his Master to do more than that. And Riff Raff would let him, whatever he wanted to do. It was he who foolishly cried his sisters name, letting one of they're most guarded secret found out by the one they dreaded. He would never forgive himself… ever. He deserved to have this man do whatever it was he was planning…
"You cant, hmm?"
A push from the chair of the arm and the tall maroon Platforms gracefully pranced towards the bed. Riff Raff felt smothered, he took a deep breath. Knowing that he was letting the man soak up his distress was agony, however knowing that one wrong move would mean his Sister being punished for his mistake… it was as if a knife had pierced his heart at the mere thought.
He forced himself not to recoil as a bright red nailed finger reached under his chin and brought it up to face the made-up face. The expression was pulled into one of fake concern and pity, as if he was truly worried about Riff Raff's welfare. They both knew this was not so…
"What exactly is wrong with you, Riffy, my pet?" The silken voice clucked tenderly. "You're so tense. This little illness will be over before you know it. Now! Let us go to the Lab. Perhaps doing some work will help take your mind off things?"
It wasn't a suggestion. It was a command. Frank truly didn't give him much of a choice. He was in little position to object. The fingers on chin seemed to stroke the skin for half a second, and if Riff Raff wasn't tense before, he certainly was now. Still, he made no move to pull away. He didn't dare.
A delighted laugh escaped Frank, as if reading Riff's mind.
"Well, I'll take the absence of your normal scowl a definite yes! So-... ah… hmm, you're not wearing the... where is…ahha! Really, Riff Raff! I offer you a convenient robe to make you feel less… exposed, and you throw it to the floor. I noticed you did the same with your coat earlier. Now my bathroom a disaster! For a butler, you're not exactly the most tidy. Then again, I suppose that is your… sisters job, isn't it? Yes, Your much more convenient in the lab. Let the Magenta take care of the room when her and Columbia return."
Snatching the offered robe with perhaps a bit too much force, Riff Raff tugged it on, inwardly seething. The pleasant smile Frank gave him indicated that he was fully aware of the fact that his taunting was working it's dark magic. He pushed his arms into the white silk robe, ignoring the triumphant smirk that flitted across his master's face. As he leaned to grab his shoes, they were promptly kicked from his reach and pair of rather fluffy slippers were presented. He didn't even complain as he shoved his feet in them. Frank was making this more humiliating than need be, but as always, he would lower his eyes and take it. He would play the obedient little slave.
An arm slithered around his shoulder and under his arm, hefting him up into a standing position. Riff's vision spun, and he shut his eyes. A wave of extreme nausea washed over him, and it was all he could do to not re-empty his stomach all over the man holding him up. He highly doubted that his Master would want to be covered in stomach acid, especially after the morning's incidents. Though the man seemed to be playing a rather confusing game of want/hate, Riff Raff had no misgivings that he would be sent to deep-freeze like Eddie if he vomited on the transvestite scientist. He had gotten kicked in the ribs for scuffing one of the Master's platform shoes once. Ruining an entire outfit would be unspeakable.
He swallowed heavily as he willed his legs to cooperate instead of just twitching. He was always a rather twitchy sort of person, but this was absurd. Honestly, he was worried. Was drug withdrawal truly supposed to be like this? The jerking movement that ran through his limbs and his lack of physical strength was disquieting. He never had been very strong, but to not even be able to stand up? Something was very wrong here…
Despite himself, Frank was a bit… very, very lightly… concerned. While he knew that his little servant wasn't the most muscular man, his small weight was alarming. Frank was positive that he could probably carry him with very little effort. And he practically was, as he half helped, half dragged his shivering assistant into the brightly lit lab. Such a helpless little thing! Yet for all his weaknesses, he was quite useful. And so obedient. While Magenta or Columbia could be quite defiant at times, Riff Raff was always silent and took orders without question. So compliant and loyal…
Or, perhaps not exactly loyal. After all, he was fucking his own sister. The very thought made him cringe. Incest wasn't particularly taboo on the planet Transsexual, but it wasn't exactly acceptable either. While his Home Planet was a very sexual planet, sleeping with your own flesh and blood was enough to put you in a very low opinion of many Social Circles. Light flirting was all right, but sex itself was frowned upon. It was just not done. Frank was quite surprised it hadn't been outlawed. But there was very little need to outlaw something that rarely ever happened. Why waste effort passing a law when there were more important things to worry about? And in any case, it was practically an unwritten, unofficial rule: Incest was not tolerable.
Frank gave a disgusted noise and he heaved the man he was practically holding another few steps. This would all go so much faster if Riff Raff's legs hadn't been jerking like Columbia's did when she was tap-dancing. Twice he had nearly tripped on the convulsing limbs. The idea of him crashing ungracefully to the floor made him was enough to make him want to drop the man on the ground and kick him the rest of the way.
Still… He was curious about this little illness his submissive servant had caught. In the few years they had been on the Planet Earth, none of them had contracted any sort of disease. They had all assumed that they were immune. Columbia had caught colds before, and none the Transylvanians had caught it. They had been exposed to quite terrible weather, as well, without getting the slightest cough. Earth had a much different atmosphere than Transsexual did. While Earth had the sun and blue skies and white sand, Transsexual had eternal night and pitch-black sand.
Everything was dark on that planet, with the exception being the clothing. Many times, pink corsets and bright feathers were employed into daily outfits. But the rooms were usually made of stone, the decorations were of a gothic style, and the fabrics used were in dark tones, such as deep purple, greens, reds, and blues.
The castle was very well suited for the residents who had grown up on such a gloomy planet. Frank found the shadowy furnishings a soothing comfort, and he knew that Riff Raff and Magenta both felt the same. They had visited much of the diverse Earth over the few years. Fascinating, if slightly strange, culture. The shockingly modest clothing had been an eye opener for him. The suits, ties, and trousers that the Human Men wore! How could they ever be comfortable?!
He had tried them on once and had practically sobbed at the lack of freedom the garment allowed him. He had felt smothered and all his sex appeal had been covered up! No matter how much mascara he had applied to his eyes or lipstick to his beautiful lips, he still looked terrible! To think that Men actually liked this style of clothing! The lack of fitting garments was a problem as well. The first time he had walked into the lingerie section of a department store (the only part of the store where he found clothing close to the normal!) he had found nothing in his size. He had, of course, asked the clerk for help when finding a right sized corset. She had asked him what size bust he was looking for! Really! How presumptuous the woman had been, assuming that he was buying a corset for a female!
Still, he had learned much about the culture of Earth since then. Apparently, it wasn't really common for men to dress in corsets and garters…or at least publicly. The first time he had seen a man walk down the street in fishnets and platforms, he had nearly jumped the Earthling then and there. Perhaps the entire human race wasn't doomed after all! Using the man's recommendations, Frank had found appropriate clothing in what the Earthlings called 'Porn' stores, or at least all gender lingerie shops. The selection was limited, but he had looked through numerous catalogs to get what he desired. Nothing up to the standard of Transsexual's comfortable garters or heals, but it was tolerable.
He had tossed Riff Raff a few old suits he had found in second hand store. Riff Raff had no Sex Appeal anyways. Nothing would be missed in covering that thin frame. In fact, at the time, he had thought he was doing the world a favor by forcing his servant to wear such restrictive clothing. Then again, he had found his little assistant quite repulsive then.
Frank frowned, adjusting his servant so that he could hold the dizzy man a bit more tightly. Riff Raff may not have been the most appealing Transylvanian ever, but he wasn't horrible either. There was just something about his little servant that called to him.
"Here we are!" Frank chirped with a quirk of his lips, lowering his assistant into a comfortable chair that was pulled up to a table covered in papers and jars.
The Laboratory was surprisingly bright, a large contrast from the rest of the house. The tile was a rosy pink and the walls and doors were a loud bright red. While Frank preferred the comfort of the darkness in all the other rooms, he needed a bright, well-lit room for his experimenting. In science, one slight mistake could mean he difference between success and failure, and Frank wasn't about to fail due to lack of light. The lab was rarely ever clean. It was the only place in the house that Magenta was strictly forbidden to clean. She too often tossed things without bothering to check if it was important. If ever there was a spill or something got broken, Frank trusted Riff Raff to take care of it. Though the man may not be the best at cleaning, he at least would make sure not throw out important documents.
So after dropping his assistant into a chair, Frank strutted to take a seat on the opposite side of the large table. The papers were out of order, strewn randomly in hastily thrown-together piles. Designs and diagrams were scattered, and notes and ideas were written on odd sorts of papers, such as napkins. Balls of crumpled and ripped documents littered the floor and spare chairs. Jars of organs and blood and assorted body tissues were placed hazardously close to the edge of the table, they're contents bobbing in preserving fluid.
All in all, the Lab was a complete disaster, but it suited both him and Riff Raff. Frank couldn't imagine it being organized! Why, that would make it impossible to find anything at all!
"Master…"
Frank glanced up at his pale, weary servant curiously. So far, his assistant hadn't made any attempt to try to initiate a conversation. All the words the Riff Raff had said lately were just responses, usually only one or two words. One reason why no one ever wanted to be around Riff: He wasn't very good company.
"Hmm?" Yes. Only show polite interest. A sarcastic reply would hardly encourage his silent, solemn assistant.
For a second, Frank thought that maybe Riff Raff would say nothing at all and pretend he hadn't spoken. He could see that there was some hesitation there in the man's face. At last, though, he spoke.
"… Master, have you looked over Formula number 27?" Riff Raff spoke quietly, holding out a sheet of paper with a shaking hand.
Frank took it and glanced it over, eyebrows furrowed. Number 27… That one had been a terrible failure. It hadn't increased any physical strength while adding quite a bit of bulk. If used on a human body, it would have resulted in a body-builder that couldn't lift even have the muscle to blink. That formula had been thrown on the table angrily and they had moved on to 28. There were 43 separate formulas in all… 43 ideas that could be used to build muscle. They were all quite sound in theory, but for some reason, they didn't work when tested. It was so very frustrating, Frank thought gloomily. If only the Human Body wasn't so complicated!
Still, he looked over the paper, taking in the scribbled notes and diagrams and labels that Riff Raff and he had written on it during experimenting.
"You know I have, Riff Raff. Number 27 was unsuccessful."
As well as all the other 42 formulas.
Riff didn't even bat an eye at the obvious aggravation in his Masters voice. Riff Raff was in his element. Had he not been a servant, he would have gone to become quite a great scientist, perhaps even greater than Furter. The only time he was truly comfortable was in the Lab, the only time he didn't waver was when discussing theories and taking examination notes.
"Yes Master…" Riff paused and shakily riffled through a large stack of documents covered in two different styles of handwriting. At long last, he pulled out a crumpled, torn sheet that had suspicious looking red stains on it. "… However, were it … c-combined with Formula number 12?"
Frank took the paper and placed it and 27 side by side. As he carefully read the observations that had been taken on each, he lit up a cigarette, drawing in the soothing, comforting smoke…
And his eyes widened drastically. When next to each other, the formulas revealed things he hadn't thought of before. Number 12 had also been a failure. It had increased strength in muscle 'donated' from an Earthling. However, the whole point of the experiment was to create a body from practically scratch. Organs didn't have to be made, but tissue such as muscle and bone and skin had to be created. A formula that would increase strength in a muscle was all well and good, but it was no use in a body that currently had no muscle.
Frank and Riff Raff had tried combining it with other methods, but there was something in Number 12 that caused them to counteract each other, leaving nothing but quite a spectacular explosion…
So it had been tossed aside.
But now, looking at it next to 27, a plan previously thought useless, it showed that there was a great chance of them bonding together, providing both strength and muscle.
Frank ignored the falling ashes from the forgotten cigarette propped in his fingers. He could see Riff Raff was waiting for his response to this new revelation. Frank, however, could feel the stirring of a large headache. If they could combine these two together without them reacting negatively, how many of the other formulas could be used together to achieve similar but better results? The thought of how many combinations that could be made was enough to make him regret going into the scientific career.
"Its theory is… sound. However, I am a bit worried about how the blood recipe will react with it, and wont this bit right here work against the nerves?" Frank said at last.
Riff Raff took the papers back and poured over them with the air of someone in deep concentration, and the scientist took a moment to study his assistant.
He was still extremely pale (why, the white robe seemed to blend in with his skin!) and the spasms had only worsened. He had broken out in a feverish looking cold sweat, and his hair hung even more limply than before. Frank didn't know much about Earth diseases, certain that Transylvanians were immune to such illnesses. But now he was starting to wonder if, perhaps, he had missed something in his studies. Transsexual didn't have the same conditions as Earth, and so they're sicknesses were quite different…
He wasn't worried, exactly. Riff Raff had done something to get sick, and if he was that stupid, than he deserved every bit of his misery. No, he wasn't worried… he was… anxious. After all, weren't many human illnesses contagious? Frank winced, feeling a cold dread in the pit of his stomach. He had kissed the man up and down quite thoroughly, after all. Was he going to get sick? He vowed then and there that if his leg began to kick, that he would aim in the direction of his weak, pathetic assistant.
The thought that Riff Raff may have even possibly gotten him sick made him long for that whip he so favored. If he got ill…
Frank and Riff Raff both nearly jumped out of they're seats as a thunderous clang echoed through the castle… The doorbell.
"Riff Raff, go answ-" Frank frowned at the terrible shuddering and dizzy look his assistant adopted. He changed his mind. "I'll get the door. You… you do something useful."
Frank sneered as he made his way into the elevator and pressed down. Who in Garters name would be calling upon them at such an hour? And in this weather! It may not have been the storm it had been the day before, but it was still quite fierce. It couldn't have been Magenta and Columbia, they wouldn't have knocked. They would have just barged they're way in, and instead of hearing the doorbell, Frank would be hearing the groupie's cheerful call of "Frankie, Were home!!".
A visitor then? He was intrigued. They rarely ever had visitors, and the last few he had weren't exactly shown hospitality. In fact, Frank mused as the elevator traveled downwards; the last visitor was currently in the lab… in the jars.
He wouldn't have much use for this guest. Better keep the meeting short and brief. No inviting them in… not unless they were particularly beautiful. No! Not even then. Save his energy for Riff Raff. He wanted his little Servant, and he had a feeling it would take quite a bit of effort to persuade the man to allow his advances.
His heels clacked loudly as he made his way to the large doors. The bell rang again and a loud smashing sound coming from the Laboratory made Frank glance at the ceiling. He scowled. What had that twitching fool done to his work? It had better not be anything important! Still, as the bell ran loudly once more, even Frank fought the urge to jump. The bell was really quite loud. This was a very large castle though, and it had to be heard in every room in the house…
Irritated, Frank flung open the door and found a very soaked, ragged, shady looking sort of man. He was greasy, bald, and had a permanent scowl on his face. The sight of such hideousness only worsened Frank's suddenly dark mood.
"Yes?" the Scientist demanded heatedly, "Can I help you?"
The man's face looked momentarily startled at Frank's appearance. Then again, a man in maroon garters, crimson heals, silken underwear, and a red and black sequined corset was a bit shocking for most Earth people. One didn't usually expect a Transvestite to answer the door. The man wisely said nothing, but he did take a large steep backwards as if cross-dressing was contagious.
"Yea…Ya can." The man started in a low, seedy kind of gruff growl. "I'm lookin' for Mistah Riff. Is 'e in?"
Frank was floored. Mister Riff? Riff Raff? This disgusting human wanted his quiet, somber little servant? Surely there was some mistake? How did this earthling know Riff Raff? He didn't look like the proper type at all, even for someone as unpicky as Frank. He couldn't help but notice what was obviously a switchblade attached to the human's belt. Was Riff caught up in something bad? It was his duty as Riff Raff's Master to take care of his little assistant! And by all means, he would protect him from this filth!
"There is a Mr. Riff in habitation here, but I am afraid he is otherwise encumbered. However, I am his… employer, and I would be elated to deliver your memorandum, Mr…?"
The filthy man blinked a few times, probably never having heard most of those words in his life.
"Eh, It's Craig. Mistah Samuel Craig." He stuck out a greasy, dirt covered hand.
Frank pulled his painted lips into a grimace, but lightly took the hand in an extremely brief, extremely delicate shake that ended immediately. He refused to wipe his hands off on his clothing. He would not taint his wardrobe with this man's ghastly grime. He would simply get the deluded acid from the Lab and douse his hand in it… Or perhaps he would bathe in it. He felt dirty just by being in Mr. Craig's presence.
"Charmed, I'm sure. May I ask what your Business is with Mr. Raff, good sir?" Keep it polite and brief, waste no words. Get this waste of air off his property.
"I normally don' tell no folks about our business dealin's, but you bein' 'is boss and whatnot… I guess you's alright…" Mr. Craig paused a moment and dug into the pockets of his soaking, reeking coat. From the pocket, he pulled out a plain white paper bag. "I'm 'ere to deliver this 'ere 'candy' for Mistah Riff. The damn car got stuck in the mud, an' we 'ad to call fer backup. No charge this time. Couldn' get it to the poor 'ol guy in time… 'e's probably in 'ell right about now…"
Frank took the white bag, acting as if he knew exactly what was inside. Still, his curiosity was piqued.
"Why on earth would he be, Mr. Craig?"
Mr. Craig grunted and pulled out a cigarette. The sight of it made the Scientist remember his own burning one that he had left on a piece of paper in the lab. He hoped nothing caught on fire. There were important documents up there.
"Well, Mistah Riff'll be goin' through the 'agonies'."
"Agonies?" Frank was wondering if this was some sort of strange Earth language he didn't know. Was the man foreign? Or was he simply unintelligent?
"Yea, ya know. 'Kickin' the Habbit', 'The Jones', the 'Cold Turkies'…"
Frank couldn't help but frown. What in Garters name had Riff Raff gotten himself into?!
"No, I don't know. What do you mean?" He tried to keep it courteous, but it came out as more of a snarling command.
"Ya really don't know nuttin', do ya? I mean tha' Mistah Riff is goin' through the withdrawal from Miss Emma, 'ere" Mr. Craig pointed at the white paper bag.
Withdrawal? Drugs? His little, obedient Riff Raff? On drugs? How long had this been going on, under his very nose. Perhaps his 'obedient' servant wasn't quite so obedient after all. First he was doing his sister, now he was doing drugs…
"Indeed. I shall make sure to give this to… Mister Riff. Will that be all, sir?"
Mr. Craig grunted a no and turned to leave. Frank poked his tongue out after him childishly and shut the door with a slam. What a vile kind of man. Just being near him made him long for a very hot, cleansing bath. Perhaps he could convince his submissive assistant to join him…
He glanced that the paper bag pensively. No. Riff Raff would not be joining him right now. He needed to seriously think about this. While everyone in the manor (With the exception being Riff) smoked cigarettes and drank the occasional bottle of alcohol, none of them were drug addicted. He had tried them once, but he had found they hindered his Sexual abilities somewhat, and he had never used them again. And who would be stupid enough to get addicted to something so expensive and revolting as drugs, anyways?
Riff Raff, apparently. Frank glanced up at the ceiling, his eyes narrowing. The last day had certainly been an eye opener. He had learned more about his assistant than he ever had before. The man had emotions, he was somewhat attractive, he was screwing his own sister, and now, he was addicted to drugs…
Tsk tsk! Indeed, What a day it had been. Frank knew a bit about drug withdrawal to know that it was a few days of extreme hell. The kicking movements made sense now, as well as the nausea and the twitching. How he hadn't seen it, he didn't know. Then again, he hadn't thought that man would be so idiotic as to go out and get addicted. What other secrets was the man hiding behind those sunken, hazel-green eyes? So far, he had wrung two well kept secrets from Riff Raff, but were there more?
Oh, he did love a good mystery. And Riff Raff was undoubtedly becoming just that. A puzzle waiting to be put together… or in this case, taken apart piece by piece and examined thoroughly.
However, he couldn't let his assistant go unpunished for this. No. he would need to think of something suitable. Something that would torture the man enough to cause him to beg, plead, cry…
Frank smirked, staring at the ceiling with a feeling of dark, sinister amusement. While he would enjoy this… oh yes, he would enjoy this… Riff Raff most certainly would not.
To Be Continued.
(A Note to my Reviewers: Thank you so very much for all your feedback. You truly flatter me, and without you all, I would never have written and updated this much. You all are wonderful, and I hope you will like the rest of the chapters as well.)