Chapter V: ...Of The End

The final chapter of the Parasitic Psychosis saga

Chapter V: …Of The End

“You sure you wanna do this?” Sydd asks Paul, a short, bald, chubby guy.
“Yeah, I really wanna sell for you, you guys got the best stuff. And- and- and I could be a great asset to you because I- I like drugs.” Paul stammers.
“Alright, here. I want you to sell an ounce of weed, a gram of meth, two bags of heroin, and one of those bags has to go to a kid, and by kid, I mean anyone under eighteen.”
“How small is the limit.”
“Whoever has the money and will buy it from you. I don’t even care if you lie about what it is, just sell it.”
“Does it have to be a kid?”
“If you wanna become a runner, you gotta pass the initiation. Frank will go with you, he’ll be your mentor. You didn’t think I was sending you out there alone, did you?”
“I don’t know if I can sell to a kid, it’s just wrong.”
“Do it, and I’ll give you a hit of acid when you come back.”
“I-seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“I guess I have to do this.”
“Now, to help get the edge off, have a line before you go. It always helps newbies get over their conscience.” Paul goes over and does a line of meth mixed with heroin.
“Woah.”
“Yeah, have fun.” Frank and Paul leave the house.
“So, who do we hit first?” Paul asks Frank.
“Weed’s usually the easiest to sell, especially if people wanna smoke but can’t get a medical card but they’re too healthy, and recreational is still illegal in this state, so they can’t get into the dispensary, they get it from it us.”
“Wow, that sucks.”
“Keeps us in business.”
“I guess.”
“Alright, we just hang out here, and today is the heaviest of regulars, you got lucky, dude.” Within an hour, all of the marijuana is sold.
“Wow, didn’t realize there was so many people who smoke weed, people in scrubs, people in dirty jumpsuits, clerks, cooks, basically anyone who worked today wanted to re up.”
“It’s pay day for a lot of people. Alright, let’s move along here, gotta get rid of that ice and horse somehow, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess.” They walk on down the street and head to a mini mall.
“Oh, this is a good spot. These people will buy just a little to keep their exercise going longer. Think about it, you’re focused enough to keep going, not so much weight lifters though, as the boxers or the people on the treadmills.”
“I recognize that one guy on the treadmill, he’s a lawyer. What’s he doing at a place like this?”
“Oh, he’s a regular, you’ll be able to sell it to him.”
“But what if he recognizes me?”
“Why would he recognize you? He’s a prosecutor. Do you know him? Gotten in trouble before, huh?”
“What? Uh, yeah, yeah. He uh, um, he uh, prosecuted my uh, drug charge.”
“Damn, you’re nervous.”
“No, the heroin is wearing off, but the meth is still going.”
“Gotcha. Good, someone you know, even better.”
“I can’t sell to him, I don’t wanna go back to jail!”
“It’s all part of the test. You wanna push for us and get high, don’t you?”
“Y-yeah.”
“Then go on in and sell to him, I’ll be right here watching through the window.” Paul enters the gym, and approaches the lawyer.
“Hey, um, listen, I’m undercover and I have to sell meth to you, is that alright?” Paul whispers.
“Yo, you got meth? I didn’t know you were cool like that, Paulie! Gimme all you got!” The lawyer says. Paul makes the transaction, and the lawyer heads for the bathroom. Paul heads out the door and meets back up with Frank.
“See? No problem at all, you were worried for nothing.” Frank tells him.
“I can’t believe he was so quick to grab it. When he’s working, you’d never believe he was a meth head.”
“Some people can control their drugs, just like some people can handle their drinking, it all comes down to self discipline, and a non addictive personality, but let me tell you, he probably is methed out at work, it probably helps him focus. He probably needs Adderall, same thing only legal.”
“What?”
“Yeah.”
“Just like how Oxytocin is legal heroin. See, we’re like, alternate pharmecuticals, but, because we don’t have a license to distribute said medicines, we sell the alternative, similar version. Except the weed and cocaine, we grow those in the mountains behind the Upper Side of the city.”
“Huh. Interesting, drug dealing is almost like being a pharmacist or doctor without the degree.”
“No, not really, people do drugs to escape, because it’s fun and reality sucks, not to feel better, although a small percentage can. C’mon, let’s go. You’re gonna give grandma or grandpa some pain relief.”
“What?”
“You still have two more things to sell.”
“Yeah, this is these are the ones I wasn’t looking forward to selling.”
“It’s fine, I know a bunch of rooms where people have their meds on a wait list, so they’ve been buying Oxy from us. You’ve just gotta convince one that the bag of horse is the same thing.”
“I don’t know man, my conscience is kicking in, I don’t like this at all.”
“And your body can end up in a sewer in a few pieces, if that’s what you’d rather. I know a good spot around here...”
“Fine, I’ll do it.” The approach the retirement home and enter.
“Hi, we’re here to volunteer some time to someone here, maybe on East Wing?”
“Oh, it’s you! How wonderful that you come and donate your time to our residents! Well, you go right on ahead, Jimmy.” The nurse says.
“Jimmy?” Paul asks.
“You really think I’m using my real name?” Frank says.
“Good point.” They make their way to the East Wing of the building, and start looking in rooms.
“This guy is a regular Oxy buyer, try him.” Paul looks at the name of the resident on the door.
“Mr. Jones?” Paul asks.
“Please, call me Stanley.” The older guy says.
“So, I’ve got some pain meds for you.”
“Ah, Jimmy! Didn’t see you standing there! I really hate going this route, being a former cop and all, but I’m in so much goddamn pain, it hurts to sit up. I’ll take two this time, an extra in case I have another one of these days. It’s been a week, so maybe halfway through the week, I’ll take the other one, and then, hopefully by then I can get my meds back.”
“Damn, that sucks.” Frank says.
“So, I don’t have pills for you today, sergeant- I mean, Mr. Jones. I have a bag of heroin instead. You don’t even need the whole thing at once.” Paul says, nervously, starting to sweat.
“Are you a cop? Is this a setup? Ah, geez, I’m gonna die in jail!” Stanley says.
“No, I swear, it’s the same thing as Oxy, but you wouldn’t need as much as you would in pill form, just please, it’s for your pain.”
“Yeah, alright, how much?”
“Thirty.”
“Goddamn, must be good stuff. Well, I’m in so much pain...alright.” He opens a drawer on his nightstand and takes out the money, and Paul gives him the bag. “Doesn’t look like much.”
“Oh, it’ll hit you hard, believe me. I had a little before I left the house, and the pain in my leg just went away.”
“I can’t believe it’s come to this. I’m a disgrace to the badge.” He opens the bag, and dumps it, snorting the whole thing. “Woooooahhh.” His head drops forward and rolls around, his eyes rolling in the back of his head.
“I told you not to do the whole thing!”
“C’mon, let’s go. Frank says.
“But he could die.”
“So? There’s plenty of more people who want it, more are made every day, besides, he’s old.” They say goodbye to the nurse up front, and leave the home. “Guess I have to ruin a kid’s life now?”
“Unless it’s already ruined.”
“This still feels so wrong.”
“Think about the motivation. You make money, and you get high. What’s not to love?”
“That’s it? That’s your motivation?”
“No, that’s your motivation, I’m already on my way to the top. One day, I might even be the next Don.”
“I doubt it, we’re expendable.”
“Nah, not when you’re as good as me and Sydd are.”
“You’re delusional, Don has family all over this country, you’ll never be the top.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s true. Ah. My favorite gang. Waddup, homies?” Frank says to a gang member.
“Yo, it’s Dr. Feelgood.”
“I’m here to make you feel all right.”
“Actually we got initiation goin on dawg. Little homie is only ten and he wants to join. Says he wants to protect his fam. He’s actually passing all our tests, homie can hit a blunt, boy. Now for the last part. Gimme. He hands Paul the thirty and Paul hands the bag of heroin over which the gang member throws to the kid who is high, drunk, and beaten. “If you survive doin’ this whole bag, you pass.”
“What? That’s fucked up, he’s just a kid!” Paul says.
“It’s how we do in this gang, son. We all had to do it.”
“But he’s just a kid, that whole thing will kill him! Not to mention the alcohol in his system!”
“Know what? You’re right, good lookin’ out. Aight, little homie, I’mma give you half a bag, if you can survive THAT, you in. Then you can have the other half for later.”
“This is so fucked up.” Paul mutters to himself. The gang leader takes the kid someplace in the alley, grabs a piece of paper, rips it in half, puts half of the paper on a box and empties out half of the bag. He rolls the other half into a tube, which he hands to the kid. The kid sniffs it, and falls backward. He’s knocked out, but still breathing.
“Alright, Paul, time to go home.” Frank says as they turn around and start walking.
“Is he gonna be all right?”
“Who cares? People pop out kids every day, if he dies, it’s population control.”
“Wow, that’s pretty sadistic.”
“I see it more as just being reality.” They get back to the house, and Frank locks the door behind him.
“So, how’d it go?” Sydd asks.
“He’s a cop.” Frank says.
“What a shame, I was really looking forward to having a replacement for Chris after his ‘untimely death.’
“What? No! What makes you think I’m a cop?” Paul asks.
“He knew a lawyer, he called an ex cop sarge, and he knows way too much about Don. He’s either a cop, or a snitch.” Frank says.
“No, listen, I am a cop, but I was sent by Don undercover to see how you guys were doing. He wasn’t happy with the fact that you had lost so much money because of the last two guys you hired. He says his patience is running thin, and to tell you your brother isn’t fun anymore.” Paul says.
“F**k the both of them.” Sydd takes a gun off of a nearby table and shoots Paul in the head. “Help me get rid of this.”
“You gotta stop, bro. Remember what we said about too many deaths in a short amount of time, and this was a cop! They’re definitely going to be looking for him.”
“Well, that’s simple, he was never here, we’ve never heard of him. They strip the clothes off the corpse, when his cellphone falls out of his pocket. Sydd notices it’s on a call to an unknown number. He hangs it up. “We gotta go upstairs. Now!” Sydd yells. Sydd starts locking the multliple locks and bars on his front door. “Barricade mode, I think we’re busted dude!”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Big Brother was listening.”
“Oh, f**k!” He starts locking and barring the back door.
“Come on upstairs!” Sydd and Frank go into the attic.
“We have an attic?”
“Yeah, this used to be Zakk’s house. Don is technically the landlord, so no normies can buy it.” He opens the secret door and reveals high tech weaponry.
“Woah!”
“I call the minigun.”
“Flamethrower could be fun!”
“Attention! This is the SFPD! You are surrounded, come out with your hands up!” They hear over a megaphone outside.
“Let’s head downstairs, I’ll get the front, you get the back. If they only enter one way, we cover each other. Don says if we win, we move up. “To what?”
“Like, partners.”
“When did he tell you this?”
“He tells all of his lieutenants that if they ever get busted, that if they survive the raid, they only have to do a little bit of time, he teaches us to do how he does, and one day our dreams may come true and we’ll rule this city. You were too doped out and not paying attention.”
“Yeah, probably.” There is banging on the front door.
“Line?”
“Line.” They each do a meth/heroin combined line just as the front door busts open to cops holding weapons at them. Sydd powers up the minigun, and as the barrel spins, the cops start shooting. The miningun goes off, while Frank is using the flamethrower on a few, then SWAT enters and sets off a gas grenade, which sets Frank aflame, and Sydd, unable to see, gets shot in a hail of gunfire by the SWAT team. Frank, still on fire, runs into the curtains and walls, setting the house on fire, which spreads quickly to furniture, the rug, and other curtains. Sydd, bleeding on the carpet, gets engulfed in the flame, burning his corpse to a crisp, thus ending Sydd’s life. The house burns completely down, and Sydd’s ashes are put in an urn and put in a mass urn mausoleum. Nobody was at his funeral, as his two remaining siblings were too ashamed of their brother to go, they had moved on with their lives. And so, the story of Sydd Xero is over.