Fragmentation 1.8
(Jeremy Johnson)
January 21, 2011
For once in his long time on the street, Jeremy knew where he had woken up.
Sadly for him, it wasn't because he was in a comfortable bed with a lovely not too drugged up lady, but because he'd woken up in the alley on Fountain Street.
He'd been here at least two times before, and this morning was just as groggy as the last two.
He must have taken one of the new drugs at the meeting last night.
God knows he's become too tolerant to the others.
He started with alcohol. Lots of kids did. Either a beer from the fridge if you're poor, or a bottle of wine from the cellar if you're rich. Jeremy was one of the beer kids in the Merchants. He drank, and drank, and drank his way until he left high school at 16 for a job at a gas station, where he started his second drug: cigarettes. He didn't think his parents believed him when he told them he started smoking because his boss gave him a pack, telling him "It's cheaper than booze". That he was then offered something from some Merchant goons, and he'd been with them ever since. 'Them' being the Merchants and all of the drugs he was addicted to. But his parents hadn't let him come home after that, and especially not when he came back with a red wristband. But fuck'em. Heh.
"Alright, alright, alright, what do feel like today? Hmm, feeling a mix of PsychoX and cocaine, with a touch of tobacco." Checking his pockets, he found some of each, as well as his backpack of booze, his packet of Marijuana, and a vial of Raven.
"Raven! I hate this thing! Why do I have this?" Jeremy screeched out.
Raven. The newest drug on the street that he was sure got him in this alley. It was the type of drug that made you happy, excited, horny, and insane at the same time. It was a party drug, inserted into tinker smoke machines to dose an entire party or room, causing it to turn into a real party, an orgy, or a bloodbath, depending on the dosage. The lack of pain in his pants, or anywhere, proved it was the first stage which sent him to the alley.
The black (though it was normally grey) vial of powder on him was enough to overdose the room into the fourth stage.
Insanity.
2mL put into the system added endorphins into the brain, 5mL put hormones, 10mL put pure rage.
Anything above 14mL?
Crazy juice.
You saw… things…
The leading symptom, which gave the drug its name, caused you to act like a raven, flapping your arms around and cawing, with the most severe cases eating off of the sleeping or dead forms of the other stages.
Yeah.
He was rather happy not to be in pain.
"Welp, time to go sell some booze I guess"
And Jeremy stepped out into the Merchant Wilds of Brockton Bay, where your best chance at survival was leaving.
Ever since the ships started to slowly return to Brockton Bay, the Merchants had been weakening.
Jeremy knew it. His 'friends' knew it. Skidmark said it himself the meeting after the boats melted:
"If us fucktards are gonna shit all over this shitstain of a shithole, we've gotta learn to shit properly" Skidmark said, walking back and forth across the stage "We've gotta take it by the reigns, and rub our fucking asses all over it, because we're like mutts out here, and scrapin our ass juices across every surface in this shithole is how us fuckheads are gonna show dominance! Now who's with me!?"
There wasn't a dealer in the house who hadn't cheered him on.
Sure, the Docks weren't as open as before with all of the guards for the dockworkers, but south of the Boardwalk, there was a beautiful plot of land that the Merchants called home.
The Merchant Wilds.
Land of the sick, home of the crazed, as he always said.
And scrape their asses they did, spreading drugs through force or temptation, dragging people into alleys by their legs or their brains, and slowly, very slowly, diluting their influence over the majority of the population in territory.
Then they had it. A piece of land the poorest of the city could call home, the richest call a hellhole, and the heroes?
The heroes didn't even act like it was there.
Oh, they did their jobs everywhere else in Brockton Bay, but the best they told the mayor they could do was contain it. As even they knew containing the 16 block territory was easier than purging it of the 4000 or so druggies, 14 dealers, and 4 capes.
The other gangs ignored them, usually. The ABB had left them alone since they left the docks to them and had stopped selling product outside of the Wilds, while the E88 used them as an example as 'what niggers do to society', even though three of the Merchant's capes are white.
Well, no one is really sure about Mush, but Skidmark said he was white, a few of the Merchants believe it.
The only 'gang' they ever had trouble with were the Rebels, but that was because one fucking idiot decided to try and hook one of the little guys on drugs while Caroline had her back turned.
She and her Allies ended up cutting the hands off of the poor fool.
With their guns.
Yeah… Caroline's name didn't give her group justice.
The four capes the Merchants proudly call their own, Skidmark, Squealer, Mush, and Ratman, tie together the odd concoction that is the Merchants.
Skidmark, the so-called leader of the gang, leads with a dirty head and a filthy mouth. His power, to create bands of light to propel or slow people and objects, is what gave him his role in the gang: a leader, and manager of the battlefield. He could easily move enemy foot soldiers into obstacles, allies behind barricades, and capes into each other's attacks.
'Could', meaning what he would do if he wasn't hooked up on drugs every other battle.
Squealer was the Tinker of the group. Specializing in vehicles, she's created BusTanks that carted men, women, and drugs around the Wilds, HeliTurrets that were manned by the most sober of the Merchants to guard the borders, and AutoSideCarBikes to move those who were unconscious or immobile out of the road into alleys or empty buildings.
Before Skidmark had given his speech, when the Merchants were spread across the city, Squealer's machines were just above the complexity of a microwave with a blender duct-taped to the top. She wasn't one to work hard on her projects, only completing her goals when her Tinker Urges got stronger than the drugs, but she seemed to change once they restricted themselves to 16 blocks.
After the self-containment, word spread around the dealers that she'd gone sober.
Sober!
Well, sober, as in only drinking energy drinks, which is close enough.
When the results came out three days after she delved into her garage, Mush and Ratman followed her example. Because the vehicles didn't only work…
They outperformed anything they'd ever seen before.
The design she rode out on with an off kilter smile was what she named The Mother. It was a massive craft, about the size of three school buses side by side, which spat out BusTanks, HeliTurrets, and AutoSideCarBikes in return for junk cars, metal, computers, and other metallic objects. Those other designs were developed by Squealer before she'd joined the Merchants, and had finally been implemented into her plans to help her 'family'.
Mush was a man that few members knew about. Only Skidmark knew his real name, and what he really looked like. Mush was only seen with Skidmark, covered is dirt and trash, following the leader like an overenthusiastic puppy dog.
His power, to attract loose debris and trash into a large, extended body that amplifies his strength, was generally seen as useless to people without knowledge of what he could do with it. Outside the gang, villains and heroes knew that Mush wasn't one to hold back punches. The fact that he knew others underestimated his power caused him to learn how to use it creatively.
People never expected to be hugged by a man made of used syringes and toxic waste.
After it was found out that one of the E88 capes, Krieg, had received AIDS after a fight with Mush, enemies learned to keep their distance from him.
Alternatively, people in the gang knew him as the Garbage Man, a name given to him due to his role in making sure the streets stayed trash-free and clean as long as he was in a good mood.
Which isn't very easy to figure out, as he never talks, and hardly anyone has seen his face.
Ratman was the newest member, triggering after getting trapped in the sewers under the Wilds for eight days, or so Skidmark says, whose power allowed him to control and summon rats. He spends his days caring for the non-summoned rats in the RatCage, training them from birth in case of emergency, as usually he uses the temporary summoned rats in combat. The summoned rats were easy to tell apart from the real ones, as they were tinted green and looked sickly. He genuinely cared for the real rats, and treated them as domesticated pets instead of the wild animals most other people thought they were.
Ratman was the first cape in the Merchants after Squealer to go sober, mostly because he realized it was easier to care for his rats while conscious.
Mush followed him after that, but only for battles and tense situations, and he knew he could think more clearly without being intoxicated.
Skidmark was still using as many drugs as he could, but he had decided to try and stay sober for fights.
It didn't work, but the chances of him being effective in battles was about 75/25.
Jeremy didn't know why the other capes listened to Skidmark, as he always thought Mush was the strongest of the group, but he knew that without Skiddy, the Merchants wouldn't be the same.
Jeremy was stumbling on towards his hovel when a green light burst into the cloudy sky in the street next to him.
'Well shit' Jeremy thought 'I didn't think I was so near to the garage.'
The Spotlight was a krypton-green neon spotlight meant to go off in case of emergency or meetings to summon the 14 dealers and the capes to the garage.
The four flashes sent out meant meeting ASAP, the last one there being restricted to the worst of the drugs for a week.
'I am so fucking glad I passed out in the alley on Fountain Street.' Jeremy mused as he headed across the street to the garage.
When he walked into the meeting room, he noticed he wasn't the first to arrive. Lucas, whose job it was to investigate new drugs, was already there talking to Skidmark rather animatedly.
"Look Skiddy, I had it last night, and it's gone! Gone! I had it in my pocket, ready to show off to you and…"
"Shut your fucking face hole you bastard. It was the fucking preview bottle you fucking fuckface!"
'I don't want to be a part of this.'
So Jeremy went to the corner of the room, sat down, and went to sleep.
He was shaken awake by Peter, who dealt in methamphetamines, and noticed that all but Xander had arrived.
'Heh, guess he gets to taste those $5 cigs tonight!'
"Thanks Peter, nice to see you. Your sister still enjoying your bed?"
"Damn it Jeremy, Clyde is the one from Alabama, not me. I'm from Quebec."
"Whoops, sorry. Canadians are the queer ones. Your brother still enjoying your bed?"
"Fuck you" Peter laughed as he pulled Jeremy to his feet.
As we walked to join the others, Xander finally joined the group, rushing through the door yelling "SHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHITGODDAMNITI'MLATE"
"Hey Xander, what took you so long? You're sex doll need cleaning?"
"Please tell me I'm not last! Please! I can't stand the last place shit! I'd rather go sober for a week!"
"Well sorry to disappoint shitstain," Skidmark interrupted "But it looks like you're going sober."
Xander fell down and began to cry on the floor.
"Stand up asshole, you'll have a chance to get off the late list."
Everyone in the room froze. Getting off the late list only meant one thing.
Rewards.
"Everyone listen the fuck up!" Skidmark yelled as the rest of the capes looked bored "Some shitstain last night stole some fucking pricey product!"
Shit, this was bad. Whenever product like that disappeared, the person who lost it or took it generally ended up with an extra hole in their head. Either one depending on the drug.
"Lucas here says he had the bottle last night in his pocket, and if he lost it like a fucking idiot, he'll be missing something rather important tomorrow!"
Every man in the room cringed, while Squealer and Sarah, the acid dealer, frowned.
"So, all of you faggots are going to ask your followers if they've seen the bottle, and if any freeze up or try to run, gun'em the fuck down!"
"What was it?" Jeremy ended up asking
"It was the newest batch of Raven," Jeremy grimaced while the rest of the room smirked at him "And we all know you're a fucking pansy around that, but this vial was supposed to spend more time in stage one and two instead of straight to the shitty bird stage."
Everyone looked thoughtful at that. Lowering the chance at cannibalism might make it more attractive to users, so profits would definitely be easier with this than normal Raven.
"And what's it look like Skid?" Clyde spoke up
"It's a smallish bottle, black instead of grey, about the size of your dick, so maybe 3 inches tall."
Everyone laughed, but not Jeremy.
Jeremy froze.
'Why did I have it? Was someone out to kill me? Did someone plant it on me, or did I take it last night while drugged up?'
All Jeremy knew, was that he had the bottle.
He had better start running.
"Looks like Jeremy's seen it boys and girls." Skidmark growled at him "First to get it gets to use a dose."
'Shit'
"Except Xander, he'll just get off the late list."
"Shit!"
Jeremy ran.
And the other dealers giggled and followed.
'It's been six hours' Jeremy thought while dodging into an alleyway 'and I have to take a shit.'
The sun was setting at the moment, and he could hardly see shit.
His phone had ran out of power hours ago, and the only source of light he had left was his lighter. But both would easily give his position to the hunters once the sun truly fell away.
Someone was out to kill him, or at least remove him from the picture. He knew this, because Mush had laughed as he ran.
And Mush only laughs if someone's about to get fucked.
In both ways.
"Was that him?" Jeremy heard at the entrance of the alley.
"No you idiot, Jerryme is the one with grey shoes."
"Those were grey shoes you retard!"
"Oy, you fucking dumbasses!"
"Yeah boss?"
"That's fucking offensive to retarded people."
Shit, they'd found him. But he couldn't see them! The light from the day was gone, and with that, the ability to see where he was going. They were clearly planning to kill him. Nobody stole from Skidmark's stash and lived to tell the tale. Well, nobody but the other capes in the gang, but they were allowed to.
He didn't want to die! He had so much to…
Ughhhh, never mind.
But he still didn't want to die!
That was for idiots and weaklings!
And he wasn't much of an idiot!
Weakling, sure, but not an idiot.
"Hey, it is Jerryme. Hey asshole! Hand over the drugs, and I'll only take off you dick!"
'Nope. Nopenopenopenopenope. He was done. Dead, doomed, done.'
He couldn't even see them at the end of the alley, hell, he couldn't see anything at all with the streetlights not reaching him.
As the darkness closed around him, he realized it wasn't due to a lack of light, but his shutting eyelids.
A campfire.
Not a shitty ass one like the fires the gang makes in trashcans, but a genuine campfire.
He noticed some figures sitting around the fire relaxing, one of them playing the guitar, and was about to ask if they had any marshmallows, when the fire gathered his attention.
It was sparking oddly, as if someone had tossed some cigarettes in before smoking them, and then he noticed the other oddity. He was looking to the left as he was viewing it.
Now that he thought about it, he could see it no matter which way he looked. Left, right, up, down, backwards, and diagonally. He could see everything around him perfectly, including him and the figures beginning to glow, and a spark that was floating into the sky.
The sky that held stars that could dance.
Like an… oddly fucked-up tango.
He remembered doing the tango with his mother.
And then his vision faded once again.
"Boss! Boss! Are you okay?"
"Yeah you shitstains, I'm… It worked! HAHAHAHA it worked again! Hey Squealer, we got a fucking third one! HAHAHA!"
"He triggered? Nice job honey, let's reel him in!"
"He's not a fish Squealer, he a wonderful, baby parahuman! Fit with, EUGH, eyes all over his head."
Jeremy opened his eyes to see Skidmark standing over him.
"Oh god. I'm going to die aren't I?"
"Naw, you passed, so you get to stay."
"I, passed?" Jeremy mumbled out.
"Yeah, you got powers, congrats by the way, so you get to stay." Skidmark commented, smiling.
"P-powers?"
"You got fucked up eyes all over your head, and if that ain't a power, Squealer's a virgin."
"Hey!"
"Eyes?" Jeremy opened the rest of his eyes and blinked.
"Yeah, that's fucking creepy dude. But welcome to the club!"
As he looked in every direction at once, he discovered something else, a pulling feeling in his chest, and light all around him.
"Why is it so bright?"
"Bright? It's night time. You hit your head or something"
"Maybe he has night vision? He has the eyes for it." Squealer interjected
"Ehh, maybe. What else can you do kid? You feel anything at all. Anything cool or something?" Skidmark asked as he pulled Jeremy to his feet.
"Yeah, there's something right…" He felt the pulling sensation in his chest, and everything lurched.
Well, everyone did.
Towards him.
"What the fuck?" Squealer yelled.
"Shit!" Skidmark blurted out.
"Hghrghughh" Clyde vomited.
He had… pulled the others towards him?
And shit! Clyde had vomited on him! That incestuous bastard!
"Clyde you fucking asshole, you fucking threw up all over us!"
"Ughghghguuuuuh… That fucking sucked…" Clyde moaned on the ground "He fucking yanked me around, the asshole."
"So, what?" Squealer asked while standing up "He can pull people towards him? Hmm, we could work with that… maybe."
"Ehhh, there's usually another aspect to powers honey," Skidmark commented "But we'll have to figure that out later. Tonight! We party."
"So, I'm not, gonna die?" Jeremy asked
"No you retard, I planted the empty vial on you to try and get you to trigger. It worked with Mush and Ratman, so why not you?"
Jeremy was speechless.
This was how Mush and Ratman had gotten powers? Running for their lives from people they thought were their friends?
"But why me? I hadn't done shit to you! Why couldn't Xander get blamed or something?"
"To be honest," Skidmark told him with a hand on his shoulder "We needed to replace a dealer, and you were the weakest link, what with you not being able to take care of yourself and all. But also…"
Skidmark socked him in the head
"You drank my booze you fucker."
As Jeremy rolled on the ground cradling his head, Skidmark and the other Merchants laughed and walked out of the alley.
"Now come one Jeremy!"
"We have a party to attend."