10-09-2013, 02:31 PM
Yuri took the money and the address and shrugged at Mudak. "Alright, I'll be there Vlad. Got nothing better to do."
Maybe he'd be back, maybe not.
He turned away from the man and went down the street. Later, he got over to a new contact and with some of the money he'd scored bought a gram of coke. With a little of it going through his veins and that sweet pill still running its course, it'd be a good time to go find himself some wheels.
Which led him to a nice little pad that had a sweet little motorbike parked outside. Dark as night, no one around. Bikes were the easiest thing to grab and wipe all traces of ownership away. He even knew a guy who could do it on the cheap.
Flows of air right in the ignition to trick the tumblers of the lock, and a little spark got the motor running. He took off down the street to find his cleaner.
* * *
Next day, 8 p.m. or sometime around that, Yuri rolled up to the dump Mudak had told him about. He'd thought about ditching Mudak and going off to do something else...but those little pills were fucking awesome, and Yuri was all out. So the pills drew him back. There must be a way he could score some more. With those things in him, he could keep hold of the power for hours on end -- the ultimate high.
He parked the bike outside, walked up to the door and rang the buzzer. Geez, what a dump. Paint hadn't been done this century -- aside from all the tags on the front and across the broken windows. It wasn't even good graffiti, like the artist didn't think it was worth bothering to take the time to do a good job.
He waited for a moment. Maybe the buzzer was broken. So he knocked on the door.
Maybe he'd be back, maybe not.
He turned away from the man and went down the street. Later, he got over to a new contact and with some of the money he'd scored bought a gram of coke. With a little of it going through his veins and that sweet pill still running its course, it'd be a good time to go find himself some wheels.
Which led him to a nice little pad that had a sweet little motorbike parked outside. Dark as night, no one around. Bikes were the easiest thing to grab and wipe all traces of ownership away. He even knew a guy who could do it on the cheap.
Flows of air right in the ignition to trick the tumblers of the lock, and a little spark got the motor running. He took off down the street to find his cleaner.
* * *
Next day, 8 p.m. or sometime around that, Yuri rolled up to the dump Mudak had told him about. He'd thought about ditching Mudak and going off to do something else...but those little pills were fucking awesome, and Yuri was all out. So the pills drew him back. There must be a way he could score some more. With those things in him, he could keep hold of the power for hours on end -- the ultimate high.
He parked the bike outside, walked up to the door and rang the buzzer. Geez, what a dump. Paint hadn't been done this century -- aside from all the tags on the front and across the broken windows. It wasn't even good graffiti, like the artist didn't think it was worth bothering to take the time to do a good job.
He waited for a moment. Maybe the buzzer was broken. So he knocked on the door.