Sour Candy [Snooping Around Case File 33 Investigation]

Soooooo Patricia might have made a fuss about the pills it was only because that one chick in the hat made them sound dangerous. Truth be told she was part of the hype train for'em kinda sorta. So some of that stuff could be super dangerous and Raidou kinda said they were but like, dangerous was subjective. They could also be really fun. So there was Xanax and Ritalin and all the other shit anyone could get their hands on but there was also some of the harder to find stuff which could be good or really REALLY bad depending on what it was and what it did. Krokodile and shit. That wouldn't be great. Neither would painkillers because it'd bring the tweakheads around but something like Molly would be worth her time and she was willing to play the angle if she liked what it did.

She fucked up last time and wasted her time but this time it was pretty personal and also her area of expertise. Like, it was easier to find a drug dealer when you actually knew what you were doing, y'know? So most people would be dressed in like a hood and shades or some shit but that was obvious as fuck, Patty knew you couldn't do that. She stayed in her school uniform instead, it was the least conspicuous thing she could show up in and a good way to stay under the radar. Normal people bought drugs too.

So the lanky druggie chick trolled the streets looking for anyone that looked like they were selling. Like she didn't know what those looked like, she bought from them all the time but usually it was the punks at school raiding their medicine cabinets. But it wasn't always like that. Up in NorCal it was a little harder than that and she could pick someone out at a distance by the way they stood and looked around. So like... people watching. She'd probably find somewhere to get ice cream while she was here too. Might as well not make today a total waste of time if she messed it up like last time.

As Patty arrived in the Palms, the streets were relatively empty compared to the bustling activity of other Districts. It was relatively peaceful in the streets, that is to say. However, there were some people who meandered about in this almost-empty peace. Perhaps, something of interest could be found in this area...

Instructions:

Patty's gut told her this was the right spot, it was empty but there were some people hanging around. More importantly people her age who would be up on the latest candy trends, it's not something older people did. Old people either just bought weed or they were baseheads and strung out and their lives were ruined. So this would be just like old times, or like... a couple weeks ago? Patty had her dealer at school where she got all the dumb shit so she was out of the street game for a while, kids made it easy to get pills by grifting their parents' or their own meds and selling it off the top. But she was confident. If anyone was suited for this kinda junk it was her. She wouldn't let the nervousness show.

The lanky thug went to check through her phone a little bit to hide how she was looking at other people and what they were doing, what they looked like. So like... the other chick looked like a pretty good start. From personal experience. Y'know, like being another punk chick and actually doing drugs. As Patricia went to cross the street she lit a cigarette if anything to establish what kind of person she was for this exchange. Purple-haired chick might be one of those hipster freaks that liked stupid shit online or something, purple-haired chick fuckin' smoking wasn't gonna get confused. She'd go to speak to the girl in passing, almost walking right by her as she said her introduction and turning around to engage. You NEVER just walked straight up to someone. That's what narcs and losers did.

"Hey yooooooo! That jacket's bomb as fuck, girl! Hey, got a sec?" she approached, thumbing her nose.


Patty would know preeeeetty fuckin' quick if this chick was down or if she wasn't from what she just said. Skittles were street for Ritalin and Kit Kat was ketamine, both pretty reasonable drugs to ask from someone or at least something that someone would recognize if they were cool like that. Specifically she was asking to buy from her. If she had no idea or told her to fuck off she'd get her answer.

The woman seemed curious as to why a sudden stranger would want her attention. The curiosity on her face turned into a relaxed disappointment. "Oh, you're one of those types. Ya came to the wrong place for this, better off heading to those posh districts. Broken dreams and desperation make great customers there, ya know? The market's ov' there cuz of it. But if ya want some of that new shit peeps are talking about, ya'll want to ask someone else, I ain't know shit. Dun wan' to try it anyway. Heard it ruins dat' complexion."

She gave a farewell to Patty, leaving her to the rest of the people who are still roaming around...

When the girl she spoke to's face softened so did Patricia's a little, her friendly and animated smile becoming somewhat sad. She knew what was up but she didn't know what was going down. But it was how she reacted that got to her. Patty got those reactions sometimes and honestly it was easier to deal with the outright hate or disgust than the... the pity of it. At least then she could yell at them or push back and feel secure that it's her life and she'll do what she wants with it but when people got sad it hurt every time and it never got any better. They treated her like she was less than a person, like she was sick or something was wrong with her and when she got reactions like that it made her consider that yeah, maybe she was fucked up. And that was never really that fun to think about or have go through your mind. But she wasn't going to look sad in front of someone else.

"Yeah sure, thanks for the tip," she spoke with a lot less enthusiasm. Still being friendly though. No reason to turn into a bitch about this. "No yeah, you shouldn't. Thanks for keeping this on the DL." Patricia could remember how the streets worked, she wasn't gonna tell and neither would Patty. Let people deal with their own shit, no point in screwing someone over. If it's gonna happen it'll happen naturally, making a big deal out of it wasn't how the game was played. As the girl left the lanky chick's smile faded into a frown and she took a deep breath before pulling it back to her absent-minded face. That wasn't important right now, this other stuff was.

Patricia headed toward her next target, the obvious one, the guy in the hoodie chillaxing on the street corner. Don't people watch movies? What kinda lazy shit was this? You had to be some kinda special moron. But whatever, usually if you were wrapped up in this you were a few crayons short of a box anyway. Patty knew that she had her fair share of missing crayons. She approached while checking her phone to make things not look obvious, walking past the dude and taking a spot on the wall so it looked like she didn't walk to him directly. But she'd speak up quickly to avoid scaring him off.
"Hey, you got the time?" she piped up, clearly half-staring at a device with the time on it in her hands, "I'm waiting for my friend Molly, I heard she was supposed to be here. She was supposed to bring her friends too and I heard one of'em was really new in town and I wanted to meet'em, are you a friend of Molly's?" Anyone who was anyone involved with this junk would know who Molly was and realize that she was Ecstasy.

Disappointment maybe a painful reminder of one's own failures. But it was the catalyst for more opportunities and a wiser mind. As Patty approached the hooded man, his back was still turned in her direction. The moment she tried to get his attention, a deranged kind of look greeted her. A madman's smile sought to continue conversation.


He wasn't a remarkably tall man, but he was dangerously gaunt. There seemed to be a sickly yellow vein tracing through his face and even down his neck. There was a blackness that surrounded the iris in one eye. The green in his hair looked messy, but if someone was very keen in observation, it seemed as if the green was threatening to devour the rest of the gray in his hair. There was an expectant look in his eyes, but didn't appear to be intending any kind of harm. The man took one step closer to Patty as a giggle escaped his lips first. "̢H̡ę ̀ he ͡ he.͟.̶.̨ Hà. ͜ ̵S̶a̢y,̧ ͢ is t̕h̨át͠ ̢ ͡t͝he͢ ͡na̸m͡e̵ ̢o͘f ̵ ̢ t̡he҉ dȩale҉r͡?͟ ͏ ͠ I ͝ha͞ve t̷o ̀ th̛a͡nk ḩer̴ ͢ ̀ for̴ g͠i͢vi̧n̡g ͠m͢e̛ i̸t..͞.̴"͟

After turning around Patricia could instantly tell why this dude was wearing a hoodie and looking shady. She'd wear a freakin' hoodie too if she looked that jacked up. Her eyes widened in surprise and her jaw dropped as she reflexively raised an arm in front of her... until he started talking and about what. Then it was back to her happy-go-lucky facade like she wasn't talking to someone strung out of his mind on who knows. If anyone was a lead it was this guy, but he wasn't a dealer. He was a junkie. And that was almost as good, he could take her to a dealer if she played her cards right. The way he looked scared her though, for the obvious and less obvious. Patty learned not to fuck with the tweakers, they were unpredictable and didn't give a shit. A tweaker would stab you and then eat your fingers, they were incredibly dangerous. Anyone that desperate to ride the wave was, it didn't matter what but there were worse kinds. It made her think about more of the shit she didn't wanna think about, like if how she saw this guy was how other people saw her because he was preeeeeetty messed up, all skinny and the eye and the track marks were something else. Something that didn't happen with normal drugs. She'd have no choice but to put it in a box, pack it up, and deal with it later anyway just like last time. Where her life was going didn't matter and some drugs were awesome but there were drugs and people out there that would ruin your life and that shit couldn't continue.

"Nah, Molly's just my friend," she waved off, speaking to him like a person instead of a fucked up problem. But she was still on guard. If he had a knife she was close enough to him to be fucking screwed but she didn't think he'd try anything in broad daylight. But she'd blow him away if she had to. Patty wouldn't even think about it. She brought her gun with her just in case something went bad, leaving it tucked in the back of her skirt and under her shirt to hide it.. Patricia wouldn't even think about it. You don't fuck around with junkies.
"Ha ha Giddy sounds like a good time though, were'd you get it?" That was something she could count on junkies to do even if you didn't know. They aaaaaaalways wanted to drag people into their problems.

The man didn't seem to notice at all on the shock of Patricia's face. There was still a kind of glazed look in his eyes. Yet, paradoxically enough, there was still enough clarity to at least know what the Rogue User was saying. "G͢-̡g͠e͝t͟? H̴a̕ h̨a̴...̴ Ì do̷n't́ ͟k͠no̵w͜... ̸H͠a! ̨I̡ ̴k̡n͢ow!̨ She ḩan͢gs ̧at thé ҉t͝r̷e҉e͢s! ͢Dark ̀and ̛d̡a̸r͏k a͜n̛d lone͝ly͝! H̴a ͞h̷a̧ ̧ha̶! ͘I wo͜nder..͝. ̴I w͜o͞nder͜ ̡if̛ ͠şhe̵ go͠t ̴a̢ ͠b͏o̶tch̛e͏d́ ̴opéra͡t͝i͢o̕n.̷.͢.́ I̵ wan̶t͢ ͠ḩe͠r̶ t̀o c͞ou̷n҉t̛ my̶ ͜f͜in͘ge̶rs ̡a͞s ͜I͟ ͞t͡e̸a͞r ̀he̶r͟ ͏scars͘ o̵pen.́.. Ḩe ͟ḩe̛ ҉he!̶"͜

The man continued to giggle almost uncontrollably, as if hearing a hilarious joke. Nothing about it was sane, that was for sure. There was almost a kind of light in his eyes breaking through the misty facade. He stared at Patricia in silence, as if unbelieving what he was even saying or what he was seeing. There was... a kind of horror. Yet, not for long. The dazed look on his face returned again in that momentary split second. "̶I͏ ͘feel ̀s̨o͞ g͢reat̀..͞. I f̡e̡e̵l͏ ͟lik͟e I̡ ҉co̶u̡l͡d j̢oi҉n͟ ̕the̛ ͜Cad͢ȩts. I̛ feel̕ so s҉tr͠ong.̡.̸.̨ ̀ So̢ h͡ap̢py.̶ ҉S͢a͞y..̸. I'́m̀ ̢o̧ut̨ta do͟u̷gh.̧ ͠C̛an̷ ya̶ l̛en̡d͜ m̡e ͟s͠ǫme fo̴r҉ ton̴ight̛.̕.҉.͠?͟ ̕Or ̛ma̕ybe̕...͜ h͞e͏ ̷h̷e͟!̢ ͘Yo҉u c̵a̢n bųy͘ ́so̴m͠e fór̀ me?͘"

Concern was a strong word. It wasn't ANYWHERE near strong enough though. Patty was afraid he was planning on hurting someone but then again it could just be junkie bitching, wanting to take their problems out on someone else and saying a bunch of hurtful stuff because their brain's fried and their filter's busted. But she wasn't afraid for herself.
"Ha ha wow she's gotta look pretty messed up, huh?" the druggie girl laughed along with the tweaker, "Yo how messed up does she look? I gotta know." The more information she could pump outta this guy the better and when you were out of your own freakin' skull people just liked to talk and if you kept talking they'd keep talking too. Just smile a lot and agree with them. It'd probably stop her from getting cut, too. His second of awareness made her even more worried about'im, like he knew how fucked up he was but this wasn't something she could fix or even knew how to fix. Besides, it wasn't her problem. Not right now. If he wanted to fuck up his life on Giddy that was on him and if he wanted to stop she'd agree but she'd let him keep going if that's what he wanted to do. If it wasn't this it was gonna be meth or heroin. And by supporting his habit she could maybe follow him to his dealer or get him to take her to... her, probably. It was a shitty thing to do but it was for the best, if she was quick he'd never get it. And neither would anyone else.

"Yeah sure man, I got you," she agreed, digging into her stocking for money. If she kept it in her socks she wouldn't stand to lose a lot of she happened to get her ass beat and mugged doing stupid shit like running down the cartel like she was doing now. She handed the money out to him with her fake, encouraging smile.
"Hey yeah, that sounds awesome! I wanna feel like that too! Hey, you wanna go get some later? I could buy us more stuff if I was there but I gotta go get some money." HOPEFULLY this would freakin' work and she could go with this guy to wherever he was getting his stuff from. Patty felt the squeezing in the back of her mind. She didn't know exactly what it felt like but she knew one thing for sure.

This was pretty damn bad.

"Ba̛n̶dag̴es.̴..͞ ̸S̡h̕e ҉ha̧s̢ ͘b҉anda̵ge̛s͏ ǫn ̸her,̕ h̵i̢d͠i͜ng͏ h̸e̷ŕ mar͜k̸.̵.̕.̵ Ii he̛ŕ ̕h́ai̕r's ̧mes̛s͜ed͟ ̛ţo͜o͡ ͘f̛ro͠m w͜e҉a͏ri͘n̶g̴ a b͜eanie?҉. H͘eh́èheh.̢..͏ ̶G̨eţ ͜it̡?͡ B̀e͞a̴n҉ie...̸ S̸ućh ̴a n͟i͜ce͘ ͟f̧ace ̸t̴oo.͠..̴ Maybe͠ ̢I̡ ͢c͢a͞n s͘e͞w ̕it̵ al̸l͞ ͠bac͟k̸ ̸to̧g̵eth̡er͢. ̶Ha̷ h̀a ͡ha̶.͠..̵ Ma̕y͢b͘e҉..͠.҉ ͏she̶'ll l͡ike̛ ̀i҉t͟ ̕be̸tt̀er t͘h͝a̕t ͠w͝ay..́.̕" He seemed all too amused by his own random form of humor. There was a moment of reverie. What exactly was in his mind was anyone's guess. But it broke when the promise of money was dangling in front of him. Patty would quickly notice how swiftly the man ravenously swiped at the currency into his very fingers. He counted each one by one as the incessant giggle continued to leak through his teeth. "Oka҉y̨.͡..͠ ͡Oka͜aàyy̸y̢..̕.̵ F́or̕ès̕t,̶ t́òn͞įg͜ht̴. N͡ot͘ to͠o ͟fa̵r͘.̸..͠ noţ t̕oo̵ c̵los̵e to c̷it̨y..̵.͢ ̸D͟e͏ḿon'͜s̛ ̧go͡ǹe͠.͡ ̨She'̢s͝ ͝th̛ere͠.̡.͘. Heh̴.̛.̀.͞ ͠S̨h͟e ͏h̨a̧s͏ ţo͢ be...́ I ͡n̢eed ̡he͡r̢..̨.̢ I ͘n̵e̡èd i̕t. I̢ neȩd͜ ͘it͡ ͏so báaa̷ad.́.. ̴I͝ c̢an ̵f҉e̶e͞l it͝ ̨sli̸ppi͡n͏g... H͟e͠haha͝h̕a̷! No͡ ҉c͠a͟n d͢o͡! Çan̸'t h̷ave̕ th̀is̶ ̡r҉iḑe f̢a̛ļl apàr҉t.̷..̕ ͏Eve̛ŕyth̵i͠ng̶’ş ́g͟o͏in͠g҉ ̡ju̕s̴t as̡ p̀ĺànne̷d.̷.͞. ́If the p̀rey ́i͞s ̢trap̨ped̷, t͘hęn ͏àf̕ţe̕r͟ tha͏t̷,̨ ̀everythín̕ǵ wil͝l b̧ę ̡pe͡r͢fećt, ̀so iţ’̡s al̨l goin͏g ̀w̸el̛ļ.͜.͘.̨"

The man began to walk past Patricia, as if ignoring she even existed in the first place in his drug-addled mind. He would leave her behind still rambling, singing, and talking to himself with the money at hand. Each footstep shambled him forward to whatever his next destination was...

"Ha ha ha! Yeah, that's pretty hilarious dude," Patricia laughed with the tweaker. She didn't think it was funny. She thought it was sad. Patty was just agreeing with him to keep the conversation rolling. She'd been right, it was all just junkie nonsense. He didn't seem like he was gonna hurt anyone other than himself, he was just out of his brain sockets and rambling to himself and anyone who would listen. He took the money like any basehead would too, scrabbling it up pretty quickly. It was a good thing she didn't have more or he'd try to pressure her or get pushy or violent or something. So she just listened to him talk to himself. What he'd said worried her, it did sound like someone was going to get hurt and she wasn't stupid as to who that might be. He'd probably warn the dealer that someone was coming and she'd have a fight on her hands but he didn't know what she knew and it was that the thuggish girl had the power to blow anyone the fuck up if she felt like it. As he left she wouldn't even say goodbye, he wouldn't hear her if she did. Patty just stared at him with a look of regret on her face as he transitioned back into an unperson. That was a person once. It wasn't anymore. And it scared her that she could get there if she wasn't careful, all it would take is a bad deal or a bad day. She took a deep breath and hugged herself for a moment.


Patricia sighed loudly and when she opened her eyes she was back to her "normal" dreamy self that she showed everyone. There was a time to be a downer and shit and this wasn't it. Sooooo Patty was pretty sure she had what she wanted but he wasn't a dealer, he was just a tweaker, and he told her who his dealer was but like... he was a tweaker so she couldn't really trust what he said. It'd be good to get as much info as she could before heading back and she'd sort it all out later. Patricia sauntered over to the next guy, some dude wearing sunglasses and looked like he thought he was cool but probably wasn't 'cause he was a tryhard. But someone like that might be new to the pills game, it was worth a shot.

"Hey! Wassup?" she greeted with her always-welcoming smile, "Hey I'm throwing a party later and I need party favors and you look cool, you down?" Again, more code speak. Patty basically said she was trying to get high with other people and was looking to buy. Anyone dumb and not in the know would just agree to it but a dealer would pick up on it and said he sold them. She'd find out pretty quick which one he was.

This time the person Patty approached was taller than the last. He excluded an air of self-assured confidence. Perhaps it came from the tattoo that lined his shoulder and his defined body. He showed an expression of interest at the sudden offer. The Palms were a little bit tougher to pull this trade in these streets. Day was easier for a variety of reasons. With how much harder it is in these parts, you really can't complain for the opportunity no matter how small. He began to gesture her more towards a more secluded corner that led to a small alley for very obvious reasons. He said in a quieter voice. "C'mon over. It'll be a pain if the coppers came by, ya know?"

Jackpot! So she found one that knew what she was talking about and even better he actually had stuff she wanted, so like that was a win-win. If he wasn't one that was pushing the new shit she could fall back on the other shit, usually when you went looking that was a commitment in itself and not making a sale would piss them off. She'd had to deal with that once back home and if Robert wasn't there to knock the dude's lights out she probably would've wound up in the ER. Besides, she could use some Molly in her life, it wasn't easy to get her hands on. Most people she dealt with just had the stupid shit like prescription pain-killers and anti-depressants, then you had the freaks pushing tar and she stayed the fuck away from them.

The lanky girl nodded and followed, looking pretty relaxed but keeping alert. Patty wasn't dumb, she knew how seriously to take this. Always stay in the good books when you're dealing with the underground because people'll freakin' hurt you if you can't play ball. And there was also the possibility he could be a cop, so she'd need to watch what she said and look for an out. But she'd follow all the same. Patricia would wait until they were out of earshot and in the alley before speaking up in hushed tones.
"So like... I'm not into candy, but it'd be great if some white boys were there with my friend Molly, na'mean?" White boys. Slang for Xanax. "But hey, I heard about that new stuff too. You know what I'm talking about?"

The way inside wasn't too far inside, but it was enough to hide them from prying eyes at the time being. It was hard to tell with his shades, but the man was only mildly disappointed that she didn't want her more expensive wares. But, oh well. At least he wasn't exactly going to come out of this empty-handed and all. He began to draw out the goods to show it to Patty. In his one hand was the tell-tale full orange pill bottle and a small baggie with what appeared to be a white powder. "Alright, Babe. How much you willing to go for these bad boys?"

He wanted to hope she had some kind of cash. At least she seemed to know what she was doing. So thankfully it wasn't going to be a waste of his time at this rate. But that mood kinda dampened when she brought up that. "What? Giddy? I ain't got that stuff, sorry. I got no idea how to get my hands on it since it's hella new in these parts. Heard you gotta join some group to deal in it. They like to say it gives you Cadet powers, but we all know that's kinda bullshit. And even if it did, it's gonna fuck you up. I'm sure you know how this shit works. Hell, there's some Psyche-Terrorists who're still fucked by 'suppers' to stay alive. Poor bastards."

So this guy def wasn't a cop, he knew way too much about what was going on to be one. And he had stock. Patricia's eyes lit up when she saw the powder, holy fuck was that pure!? NOBODY had pure! You had to have some real connections to get your hands on it. She'd doubt him and think it was bath salts if he didn't know so much, maybe this guy was just really legit? The druggie chick inspected the bottle first. She knew what Xanax was worth and kinda knew what molly would run for but had no idea what to go for pure but it had to be better shit.  She bit her knuckle as she thought.
"......I can do 25 for 10 of the 'Xax, I dunno about the X, I can only price pills." Patricia was actually really nervous about the molly. None of what she got was ever that strong outside of percocets and powder was supposed to burn going up. But she was more scared of what could happen. Taking pills was one thing but powder was different and she could OD on it. Not only that but she was afraid she'd get too comfortable with the powder or get it laced. She didn't want to end up strung out like that one freak.

"Nah, I don't really want Giddy," she explained, "I was just checkin', y'know? Like I heard it's pretty bad shit and whoever's got it's probably gonna push it like tar, I don't want that shit in any of my stuff y'know? I heard it fucks you like krok, like super tweaker levels of messed up. I bet they think they got Cadet powers though, right?" Patty joked around, trying to keep things light. "Yo that's gotta suck pretty hard, could you imagine? It's like that one movie with Jason Statham right? Dude like some of the baseheads can get pretty bad pains but just dying? The fuck would you even do that for? I mean that'd be a pretty good way to go for you, y'know? Like if they HAVE to get it you'll always have a sale, right?" Patty knew why you would do it. She didn't have a choice. And it sucked. Really bad. She hated it. But now she had a way to get it her way without playing stupid games.


The thug chick couldn't prevent the look of reservations from crossing her face. So like, none of this was that bad or anything she hadn't done before but she didn't like the pity. It made her feel like she was less of a person, like the problem she was. But that could go away for an afternoon with the right stuff.
"Hey, lemme get your digits. I mean I still want the stuff but I can't drop bills on pure right now, I don't have enough." If she had to share hers she would, but this is why people used drug phones. And why Patty brought hers.