Who: Red / Ketamine [Narrative; open to Methadone] What: Red wants to sink her claws into a few Christians as well; Ketamine lets the wall down and lets her out to play. When: Monday evening/night. Where: Some crowded bar in NYC. Warning: References to sexuality and violence in combination; possibly triggering.
The feel of long-lost users coming back to him left Ketamine buzzed for days afterwards, his energy high and his dreams more vivid than they had been in months. It wasn't because there were so many of them returning to him, but because he could feel his brothers lingering in them, because he had the tank to crawl into and connect to each one of them individually, pulling them closer to him like forgotten toys newly rediscovered.
It wasn't so much that Ketamine wanted to go searching for new users, even if he did want to take advantage of this opportunity that had been presented to them, but the taste of the hunt had awoken something hidden deep down inside of him. To be fair, Methadone had started to cause Red to stir - with his brutality and the way he would lose all control, soothing and apologizing only after the damage was inflicted. Ketamine would never utter a peep to complain about it, even if he refused to tell a soul that he enjoyed it, enjoyed the bruises that littered in body and the way each kiss between them seared the word mine onto his lips. But there were consequences for every action and for Ketamine those consequences were embodied in Red. His darkness, his secrets, his biggest fears. And the anxiety he felt related to the embodiment was so strong that he removed himself from everything that reminded him of it; lest something accidentally capture its attention.
But now it was clawing its way to the surface and Ketamine knew he had to, could now, step back and let Red take control. One night, that's all he would allow, but it would be one night that would hopefully end with him finding his way into the veins of a few new users. And in this case, it didn't matter how he got in as long as he was in.
_
Red had no qualms about putting weapons in the hands of criminals; or would-be criminals. It wasn't a matter or morality or ethics, it was a matter of feeling how a mind gave way under the press of sharp claws and just the right breed of cunning. Once she was out in the open, stretching her long legs, she could practically taste the anticipation and booze in the back of her throat. There was too much time to kill between squeezing into a little t-shirt dress and a pair of heels and making her way to a row of bars known for being crowded, loud and rowdy. College boys; they were her favorite flavor. Somehow she managed to withstand the wait until the sun dipped below the skyline and she could slink through the dark.
And there was no way they wouldn't notice her as she slipped past the line and the bouncer and into the bar, picking up a random drink and dropping the straw casually on the floor as she tossed it back. It was the only time this system could handle alcohol and she planned on taking full advantage of it... and a few other things. It was always easy to find them, they had the same looks in their eyes, the same way of watching, the same casual stares. They ordered drinks and never drank them. They slid them to girls who'd had one too many already and didn't notice that they hadn't been drinking that a moment ago. They slipped their fingers through hair and along the edge of dresses, leaned in to whisper something to catch a glimpse down a dress or shirt. It would be something if there was only one in every bar, but there wasn't... there were dozens, all wishing they had her or her brother and sister, all wishing they could take that girl home. And on a lucky night one of them would.
But tonight was more than lucky. Red was slipping through the crowd, inspecting them carefully. Looking for a little glint of gold or silver in the shape of a cross around their necks. A Saint Whoever University t-shirt. The couple of pathetically awkward boys who didn't know how to work a girl out of her panties any other way. Red watched them all, trying to find just the right one.
Eventually she caught him, leaning against a table in the back next to a pool table, bending a straw between thumb and forefinger and casually talking to a girl who didn't look interested in him in the least. It was better than a little gold necklace, he had verses tattooed up the inside of his forearm. Red stalked carefully closer to him, coming up behind him and slipping a little baggie of off-white powder into his pocket and whispering softly in his ear. No one would see her in the crowded room or hear her over the roar of music and voices. But the message would be received loud and clear. Just a little taste, that's all this silly little girl needed and she would be all his; and he would remember Red's true name, what she did for him that night.
But she was nowhere near done. It wasn't just poor distracted women who fell prey to chemicals and wiles, she was an equal-opportunity poacher. A girl who wasn't quite pretty enough or confident enough. A boy way out of her league. It was the same prescription and the same solution to this problem as the last. A little of that off white powder tipped into his beer bottle while he turned to talk to a friend and in five short minutes he'd be too gone to know that she was taking him out the side door to her car down the block. Equal parts lust and opportunity, that was Red. And in the morning, no one would remember a thing and she would have a few more minds to slip into and whisper the name of the drug that could make them feel so very good again.
She felt no guilt about what she did. It was a matter of getting more minds under her possession and nothing more. He, wherever he had been stuffed down into, would feel every ounce of it. He would be the one who had to sort it and tuck it away, repress it and forget it. He dealt with the consequences, she just acted. But he would thank her when it was over and he had all the more power. That frat boy would tell his friends and they would tell their friends. The ones who tried it recreationally would share with their roommates and classmates and siblings. All Red had to do was start the ball rolling and the would all come falling down right into her delicate little hands.
Another boy with not quite enough swagger, one more who came on too strong - that would end in a mess, she felt it the moment she slipped her drug into his palm; yet another who couldn't quite get the straight boy to cave to his wiles, the woman who looked like she hadn't seen the outside of a classroom in a decade. They were all hers by the end of the night, as were those they chose to covertly introduce her into. When she was in a more powerful body, she would remind him to dig into them, claim them, keep them. They just had a little taste tonight and he would have to introduce them to the full extent of their uses.
But all good things had to come to an end eventually. Three bars, six hours later... just before a quarter to two in the morning, Red was standing out on the curb trying to repress a shiver - not because of the cold but because of the feel of rushing through the veins of that night's victims. She sighed, licked her lips and casually hailed a cab. Had they not all been shooed out onto the street - Red took advantage of the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd to inspire a few more criminal acts of lust - she would still be searching for another score; one more to tag and drag home.
She knew where she had to go, though; despite not wanting to go there at all. While Red was lost in a in-between state in the back of the cab, reeling at the tingle of users in such close proximity - users she had picked out by hand and had rooted herself inside from that first moment - the wall came down enough for his voice to remind her... There would be no cheap hotel and sprawling out on the bed with her shoes still on to soak up the warmth. There would be no after-hours strip club. Red had to find her way back to his home and his boyfriend. Turnabout was fair play, he reminded her as she tried in vain to push his presence back behind some dark door. The doctor had earned the right to see the absolute darkest place of Ketamine's being in the flesh. Not everyone was so lucky to have their secrets and darkest deeds personified from time to time, but it sure did make the explanation easier.
Red pulled the last baggie out of its hiding place and looked at it curiously before dropping it on the backseat with a casual flippancy. She touched up her lipstick in the rearview mirror and rubbed a scuff out of her shoe, passing a wad of bills she'd lifted off one of her marks to the driver as she got out and stared up at the building. It hardly felt like the right place for her to be. But at least, she thought, it would sure as hell be interesting to see what kind of reactions she could pull from the ever-ordered, ever-straight laced doctor who lived way up there above lowly little drugs like her. Red's lips curled into a predatory smile. Maybe she hadn't left all the fun behind at the bar.