CHAPTER 20: INTRAVENOUS VERITAS
Natasha was breaking immutable laws of physics right and left as she contorted, gratifying a horde of hopped-up bikers on the floor of their drug-lab/clubhouse/crime scene. Except for the absence of blood and severed limbs it looked a lot like the aftermath of the 'Grocery Store Massacre', as the local tabloids had dubbed it. Faust made finger sandwiches while getting a rim-job from a hag they called Mama Beloo.
As bikers staggered bleary from the fray, their fearless leader Elmo stood tongue-tied, not sure if he and the Harlots were caught in a dream or trapped in a nightmare.
"Natasha, you are one hot bitch."
"Thank you, Elmo. Are your men having any luck peddling that morphine and helium derivative I've synthesized?"
She cooked up a generous helping and jammed the hypodermic, point first into her left eye.
"The neighborhood brats like it so much we're already swimming in milk money. And if they try and get cute, we pawn their vintage lunchboxes."
Natasha paused to ruminate on a world gone bad. She'd always heard that Earth might be the last outpost of arcane morality in the cosmos, but she knew now that was just a veneer, a wistful dream from days gone by. In fact, the degradation of this little world was maybe that much more sublime for the illusions that its people clung to like a worn-out teet.
"Are there really millions of sociopaths like you on this planet, Elmo?" she asked.
But, he was on the phone screaming at someone over a deal gone bad. Natasha turned the radio up, her long white fingers drawn to her lap like gypsy moths to a flame.
"Our time will come," she thought.
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CHAPTER 21: BEEF JERKY AND CHICLETS