*

Falling in Love again

*

A Rurouni Kenshin Pop-Art Remake

By Oryo

 

Special thanks to fujifunmum and Pirandella

Thanks to my reviewers Firuze and Kensuyoko

 

Warnings for this chapter: Sex (more or less, between men), drugs
(controversial matter) and Rock ?n? Roll.

*

Chapter 7: All You Need Is Love

*

 

*

Tokyo, years 36/37 of Meiji (1904/5)

*

I forgot that you don?t know about my fighting. Sure, you have heard the
stories told by my friends, they never grow tired of talking about our
adventures in the past.
Sure, other people let you know something about the more distant past.
My bloody reputation transformed into an heroic legend. I know you
didn?t believe it at first. Later, you didn?t understand why I gave up
the sword.
But, it is true, in reality, you don?t know anything about my fighting,
about my killing. Words fail to describe the reality of war, of every
day?s bloodshed. When the meaning of truth starts to fade.

*

New York, May 16, 1965

*

End of the recorded conversation. Stop. Rewind.

Henry Shatner stuffed the rest of his cigarette in the ashtray and took
a new cigarette from the packet. The packet was almost empty, reminding
him that he had to pass a drugstore later.

Stop.

Farrel seems to have grown quite rusty./ /He should have known better
that the public phone near his domicile wasn?t safe/. /But, to tell the
truth, it had taken Shatner?s men some time to recognize the
conversation for what it was.

The third time since he had gotten this record the previous day, Henry
Shatner put the "play"-button. The smile on his face deepening. The
first part was fun.

//

/"Yes."/ The man answering the call didn?t mention any name. And without
hesitation, he continued after a few seconds: /"You kept me waiting,
Venus."/ The accent of his voice was British, upper class speech pattern.

//

/"How do -?"/ Contrary to his subordinates, Shatner hadn?t any problem
to recognize Farrel?s voice, having heard so many recorded conversations
with him.

//

/"Do you want to know why I know it is you?"/ The other asked quite
mockingly, and familiarly.

//

/"No, I don?t want to ?"/ At this, as the other times, Shatner almost
laughed quietly at the alarmed tone in Farrel?s voice. He didn?t know
that someone was able to make him loose his cool-blood so easily.

The British voice continued furthermore/. "No one but you would be so
impolite to call me after midnight."/ A dull knocking noise interrupted
the mocking, replacing it by surprise. /"What was that?"/

"Nothing. I?m pretending the receiver is your head."

Shatner laughed again. The tone was annoyed, quite suffering.

//

/"I cannot say that I?m surprised. Calling me in the middle of the night
to insult me, that?s just like you. Do you have problems in a love
affair?"/ This time, the knocking sound was really loud, but provoked
just a quiet, amused laughter. /"Always someone with a way to break your
poor little heart, Venus."/

Indeed. Shatner thought of the photo Jasper Cagney had taken. It had
looked like Farrel?s usual entry in action. Only the other guy was quite
unusual compared to former affairs.

//

/"I didn?t call to discuss this with you."/ Farrel replied, honestly
pissed off. Shatner relished this rare experience. /"Remember that you
made the first contact. Not me."/

His outburst was followed by silence.

//

/"And besides your fragile little heart, how are you?"/ The unknown
voice asked finally, displaying a hint of concern.

The first reaction was more silence.

//

/"I?m fine."/ Shatner had a precise idea what he meant.

/

"I?m glad to hear it. So what can I do for you?"

"I need the extended basic equipment."

/

That provoked a cough from the other, and Shatner felt tense. The
amusing part of the conversation was over, they came to the point.

//

/"Do you know what you are asking for?"/

/"Of course."/

/"What are you planning?"/

/"You must be joking if you think I would discuss such things on the
phone. Is one week enough to organize this?"/

/"It will be alright, you can come to the hotel. Do you know the number
of the room?"/

/"Yes, you wrote it on the postcard."/ Like before, Shatner hissed
frustrated.

//

/"Then we will meet Saturday. And make sure that nobody is following you."/

/"Don?t take me for a fool!"/

The third time the conversation ended abruptly, leaving Shatner alone
with this riddle. The unknown man must be one of Farrel?s old contacts.
The mention of a hotel and a postcard seemed to indicate that the man
didn't live in the city, but it could also be a trap. It was also
possible, that they used the room of a hotel as a meeting point. After
all, a hotel could be safer than any public place as long as nobody knew
about it.

Pity that his assistants had realized too late that Farrel was speaking.
Too late to find out the phone number of the hotel. It was the price to
pay for directing such an unpopular department. The godfather - Shatner
was very satisfied with himself to have found this name for the big
boss. - didn?t believe in something like organized crime. They were
always short on equipment. Though, actually, as Farrel more involved,
connecting with his old contacts, this case could become a proper FBI
assignment. It might be easier to get legitimate new funds.

Henry Shatner decided to write a special report to Washington.

***

------------------------------------------------------------------------

It?s past midnight in the "Underground". I?m still not sure if I should
have come. There is this odd feeling in my stomach, warning me of
something to come. This is not good because I go too often to the bar,
to get another drink.

It is not so much the place that disturbs me, despite my knowledge about
the regular drug deals. Sam was right. It is a love paradise. Couples
are setting in all the corners, kissing or chatting: guys with girls,
girls with girls, and guys with guys of course. The ambiance is very
relaxed. And as I could hear, upstairs was enough space for more action.
It was like a giant private party. Even for the drinks people just put
coins or dollars in a box standing at the counter of the bar. Of course,
there was always someone beside it, glancing suggestively at the guests.
At the moment it?s a well built, extremely self-confident looking black
guy. No one leaves the bar without giving something. It?s very funny to
observe how people react to silent menaces.

The music is very good, too. The band changes every hour which creates a
nice mixture of different styles. Actually, "Rock the cat" are reaching
the end of their second performance for tonight.

/

"One day I?ll meet you on a dusty road ..."

/

Good grief! They are singing this song again. After all the events
happening in the last week, I had completely forgotten to ask them about it.

/

... a stranger in this life
What do you search ...

/

This time it doesn?t hit me so much, this time it just awakens a dull
pain. The grief is soothed by his voice, his wonderful, intense and sexy
voice. Usually the words distress me, but hearing him singing them makes
me feel better. Good grief, how can he keep me from being angry with him
longer than just a few minutes?

Sam was the major problem this evening. Though I don?t understand what
is bothering him? He had asked me to come. I wouldn?t have come on my
own, because I was too preoccupied. In the last week, I had found too
many loose ends and hints, stirring up my paranoia and feeding it. The
last time this happened to me, I got involved in an affair of
international concern. Very unpleasant.

No, if Mimi hadn?t been so eager to go, I wouldn?t have given this idea
a second thought. Though, yesterday, when Thea, Karen?s colleague from
the club, came for a coffee with Karen, Mimi talked about her plan to
have a look at this place, searching for Arthur. That?s when Thea had
the idea to ask her brother to give us a ride. Or rather her sister.
Shawn who wants to be Sarah. It wasn?t Thea?s fault, that we went alone,
because Mimi couldn?t come. But I don?t feel sorry for the girl. She
doesn?t fit here, oh not because of her skin color, no she just doesn?t
fit here because of her morality. And I hope that she never sees Arthur
in his present condition. He is very strange again, this evening.
Though, not high on something.

"Can?t you figure out which one is the better choice?" A friendly voice
is asking me, and I make an effort to keep on smiling. It seems as if
Sarah had finished her tour of the room in search for someone to hit on,
obviously and unfortunately without success, joining me at the bar
again. It was nice as long as we talked about the restaurant she and
Thea were planning. But her checking out guys is embarrassing. I have
never liked to discuss other people?s sex life in public. It?s not the
same as flirting, it?s an invasion of privacy. "I know you have a
violent crush for Mister Universe, but he isn?t worth the trouble. I can
tell you, sweetheart."

I take a deep breath.

"When I need someone to give me advice, I?ll tell you." I answer a bit
sharply. "Sorry, this was rude!"

Sarah laughs: "I don?t deserve better, sweetheart." I hadn?t even tried
to tell her how much I hate it being called that. She and Thea both do
it. "You would like to have some of your choices, but what can I do?
Instead of a guy, I have found something better to loosen up." When I
turn to look at her, she fumbles in the pockets of her jacket. A women?s
jacket, besides the very good make-up, the only female attribute, but it
is just perfect. Along with her manner of walking, it creates the
perfect illusion of a charming young woman. She is a living performance.
And now, she takes out a little sack and holds it up questioning. "Do
you want a hit?"

I open my mouth to decline.

/

... And I will never forget
how these eyes know
to laugh, to dream, to fight, to love.

/

It?s the last refrain, and suddenly I realize that the best part of the
song has been sung, out of my perception already. I almost regret it.

Sarah tugs my sleeve, and drags me back to reality.

"It?s good quality."

"No, thank you." But I weight in my mind the question if I should
scrounge another cigarette from her. Like I have already done two times
tonight. Though, perhaps I should buy a pack of my own. Admitting defeat.

"As you like." Sarah starts to prepare a joint for herself. Neat little
dose. "You can buy everything you want here. I prefer buying here than
at other places." She grins at me innocently. "I saw you there."

"Where?"

"In the /Velvet/. Last week. I never thought that Sherman would do
something like that. He really surprised me. By the way, it was great,
and you were better than Sherman, and I think that?s the problem." She
lights the joint and starts smoking. "You really don?t want a toke?"

It would feel good, I know it. "No." Distraction, distraction! "Is it
common knowledge that you can buy it in the /Velvet/?"

"Yes, but ?"

"What?s with the police?" Good grief, now I start to ask really stupid
questions. Sarah laughs, and I deserve it.

"They got paid, I think. I won?t give these guys one single cent anyway.
Thea has told me what Smiley did with her former boss."

"What?"

"He shot him out behind his club."

Good grief! The idea that Karen is working in this club gives me a bad
chill all of sudden. Worse than what I felt before about this place.
Being forced to pay protection money is after all not the same as
getting straight killed.

"What?s the matter with you?" Sarah asks concerned.

"Nothing. Would you ??"

Grinning, she gives me the joint. Calm, calm. I take a slow draw. It?s a
very, very long time since I have smoked weed. After one more hit, I
feel better, calmer, and I give her the joint back. I need to think.

"Who is Smiley?"

"That Irish boy. I think his name is O?Sullivan. I should like him
better because of our common origin, but no way. He is always smiling,
and he kills with the same expression. It?s freaky."

The nice sweet boy. Sure, I had seen him in Karen?s club, the time I
worked there as her temp, and if my suspicions were true, Karen?s club
was owned by the same people that supplied drugs to the "Velvet". I
remember what Sam told me about the visitors asking for the drugs I had
thrown in the toilet. It must have been a warning. People who would
shoot the owner of a Jazz Club at his own place, wouldn?t hesitate to
kill nameless people. If the visit had been meant seriously, Sam and
Arthur could be dead by now. Maybe, O?Sullivan is the one sent to deal
with serious matters, like executions, while the brawlers were only good
for warnings. A sick feeling emerges in my stomach. Fool! I was so a
damned fool, being guided by rash decisions. Nobody fools around with
such people. My instincts must have gone rusty in just two years. What I
did was unprofessional. I have to be more prudent with my actions, I
have to think better if I?m going to prevent something worse from
happening.

"Can you give me a cigarette?"

"No other hit."

"No, it wouldn?t be wise."

"Alright, if you intend to be wise." Smiling, Sarah gives me another one
of her weed-free cigarettes. "It?s a shame." She says when I light it. I
have kept my lighter, just for nostalgia.

"What?"

"That you waste your energy on someone like Sherman, sweetheart." By the
way, they have left the stage. I realize it only now. "Believe me he is
not that much fun. Not more than the ice block who doesn?t stop
devouring you with his eyes. If I had your choices, I would take the ice
block."

"What?"

"Sherman is good with his hands and has a lot of stamina. That?s all. He
lacks imagination. And surely, you won?t have him your way, because he
is convinced he is the ultimate alpha." Good grief! I?m sure my face is
bright red now. "I think, even more than the "Velvet", he considers this
place his private territory. I think he has misjudged the effect you
would have here. And besides, yesterday ?"

"Believe me, I don?t want to hear it."

"Sorry, sweetheart!" Sarah is looking a little bit hurt. Then she
shrugs, a glint in her eyes. "You are hopeless, sweetheart, you really
like this guy."

"Are you jealous?"

"Oh hell, yes, but not of him." Good grief! It must be the weed, my
brain is working in slow motion. "It?s really a shame, but that?s life.
Don?t be sorry for me."

She leaves me. A real life performance, playing the flirt and suffering
the rebuff afterwards, saving face in great way. It?s a pity that I have
no weakness for drag queens.

Sighing, I decide to profit from the generous open bar one more time.
That?s when a new tune is starting, making me turn in amazement. I
hadn?t seen that Arthur had come back from the short break. Thus I?m
surprised, when the music starts again. Piano and trumpet. Free style
Jazz, it sounds somewhat rusty, smooth and edgy at the same time, very,
very beautiful. Arthur is sitting at the piano now. The trumpet is
played by a black guy with the a scarred face. Sipping the new drink and
finishing my cigarette, I go back to my solitary spot or seat outside of
the general melee. Drowning in the flow of bittersweet memories of
nights passed in the weirdest Jazz Clubs in Paris. A few years ago, the
bitterness would have been stronger than the sweetness, but the time and
my own changes made a difference.

But, despite the music, I?m still feeling this dreadful tingling in my
stomach. I shouldn?t have come tonight.

"Can you give me a light?" A gloved hand is touching my underarm, almost
making me jump. The question takes me off guard, I haven?t realized the
man was standing beside me.

"Pardon?" Slowly, I turn to face him.

"A light? Can you give it to me?"

"Sure, I?m sorry."

I light the expensive smelling cigarette for him. The man seems only a
few years older than me. And he doesn?t fit at all in this place. His
white suit is impeccable, even the gloves, and it must have cost him a
fortune. Although, he is not extraordinary good-looking, he makes a good
impression, and his smile is charming. He tries it with me, holding one
of my hands longer than necessary. Internally sighing, I draw it back.

"Do you come here often?" He starts small talking before I can turn away.

"No."

"Are you here alone?"

This time, I?m really sighing, before I answer. "No, and I have already
an engagement."

"That?s a pity. Maybe another time?"

"I don?t -"

Before I can finish my phrase and leave this guy, Sam comes between us,
swirling me around.

"Don?t hit on my boyfriend!" He snaps at this guy and kisses me.

//

/What?/ His hands are gripping my ass, possessively. And I feel people
looking at us. Something in my ears starts ringing, like a high pitched
whistle. /What did he just say?/ When his tongue slips between my lips,
I bite him, pushing him away. Then, using his surprise, I clutch his
jacket and draw him outside, to the elevator.

"What the fuck?" His speech is indistinct, because he has to wipe his
mouth.

"That?s my line." His pride hurt, Sam is not open for dry jokes and
opens his mouth for a violent reply. "Don?t you ever do that again!"

"Since when are you a prude, darling?"

"Don?t /darling/ me. Don?t you dare make me a part of your performance,
just to show off."

"You needed my fucking help, ungrateful bastard."

"What are you talking about?"

"That guy was Kane," I freeze. This is a good reason, even if Sam could
have chosen another way to warn me. "and even Arthur was anxious. But
you couldn?t see it. You?ve been so busy, flirting with this asshole.
Like you did the whole evening."

"What are you talking about?"

"Don?t play the innocent with me! Don?t think I hadn?t noticed how you
watched Arthur. How you flirted with half of the guys here."

He is jealous, but not in the cute way like the other times. He is just
acting like a possessive asshole. How annoying!

"Don?t even try it, Sam. Don?t even try to play the jealous husband with
me. You could have warned me in another way without making such a show
of it."

Suddenly, I?m tired. Too much alcohol is rushing through my blood, I
have inhaled too much weed, there had been too much noise in the club.
Now, as we are standing alone in the dim light, the silence falls down
on me like a heavy weight. I?m not in the mood for such a stupid
argument. I know I have overreacted, because of my general frustration.
It shouldn?t have affected me so much. Sam isn?t able to play painful
little power games. Whatever was and is motivating him it?s definitively
not the wish to humiliate me deliberately.

I?m just opening my mouth to excuse myself, when Sam is saying with
annoyance: "You need this, isn?t it?"

"What?"

"The attention, the looks ? you like to attract them like moths with
your every move, this slutty smile of yours. I didn?t see you reacting
to the other guys before, but I should have known. The first impression
is always the right impression."

It?s so stupid. I?ve heard this so often, so often that for a while I
believed it, but now even the hurt from this offense has vanished. It
just annoys me, because it makes dealing with other guys so difficult.
Reminding me why I have to keep my distance.

"And what is your conclusion, then. It was you who started to hit on me.
Have you already forgotten? It?s not my problem that you have grown
paranoid because you are used pissing on every tree, just to mark your
territory." I don?t feel good insulting him like that. Maybe it?s
unfair, but I?m not in the mood to be indulgent. Not when someone I
started to like brings up such stupid ideas and calls me a slut.

"Don?t fuck around with me!"

"No? Isn?t it what you wanted?" This time I accompany the question with
a special version of my usual smile. "I remember other things that you
are not denying. But I?m such an evil seducer. How could you resist?"

Panic. Hidden behind aggression and bluntness I can see it rise in his
eyes. Pure panic as if I could do something horrible to him if he lets
his guard down for a moment. And because I see it, I don?t even try to
defend myself when he shoves me against the elevator door. The impact
knocks the air out of me, though, and it hurts, but I?ve gotten worse.

"Don?t fuck around with me, I told you."

"If not what? Will you rip off my clothes and do me right here? Will you
/kill/ me?" Never leaving his eyes for a blink, I?m feeling like the
snake hypnotizing the rabbit. A very aggressive rabbit, though. His hand
pressing my throat doesn?t scare me so much. I consider hitting him with
my knee, and a few more options on how to get rid of this attack.
However, I drop all these ideas quickly, seeing no use for it. And it
wouldn?t be fun either. It?s not fun at all to have a true glance behind
his mask. Something hurt him very deeply, turning a part of his self
into self-hatred what he projects on other people, and, obviously, he
isn?t ready to deal with this, or even to see it. "Sam, why are you so
damned scared?"

"I?m not ? You asshole!" He has no problem hurting me. With his free
hand he gives me a punch in the stomach, almost making my legs falter.
I?m dizzy a few seconds. Normally, I know a lot ways to defend myself.
Only brutal force is more difficult to parry. Struggling for breath, I
hold my stomach when he lets me go. Luckily, I manage staying upright.
"Don?t fool around with me? Do you understand? And don?t treat me like a
brat."

"But you are behaving like one, Sam." My voice is steady enough to
speak. "I don?t know what came over you all of sudden. I don?t know what
your first impression was of me. You hit on me, remember. You have hit
on most of the guys here, but this is your problem not mine. You are
used picking up guys casually, don?t tell me what I have to do."

Sam tries to stare me down with angry eyes, but he isn?t really good at
this. He opens his mouth, closes his hands into fists. I can?t
understand what is threatening him, and he is obviously not ready to let
me know. Finally, he takes a deep breath. "Just fuck it!"

Leaning against the wooden panels behind me, I watch him leave. This is
definitively not my night.

*

It?s gotten cooler outside. I?m feeling a little better, when I have
reached the Broadway intersection. Walking, crossing people, watching
cars and feeling the familiar shadow of this private detective somewhere
behind me, everything provides me with distraction and I?m grateful for it.

Seeing the bus pass the station on the other side of Broadway, I think
it would be best to go home. Though, I don?t like to retreat from a
difficult situation. Most of the time, it makes everything worse. I have
really no idea what Sam?s problem is. Maybe, he has realized what even
Sarah has seen, that while watching him move like God?s gift to mankind,
or hearing his voice, I want him so badly that I don?t feel like myself.
Losing all control over my libido. Maybe, he is irritated by the idea of
being an object of desire. Though there is no damned reason to panic, or
to get aggressive over this. /He/ is the most irresistible person I have
met in the last few years. It scares /me/, but it is better than the
idea of being alone all time.

Slowly, I turn back in the to Broome Street, flashing my shadow a bright
smile. Though, I?m not sure if he can see it, with only the street
lights shining on the street. Seeing me return, he stops as if lighting
a cigarette. But, when I?ve gone past him, he follows me at his usual
distance. I don?t know if he is aware that none of his movements are a
mystery to me. Maybe he knows, but doesn?t care at all. Maybe he thinks
following me is enough effort. Perhaps, he is pissed off at his boss,
this funny blonde guy, who I always greet with my best smile since the
day I visited his office. Whenever I get my equipment, I will have a
look at this office, just to verify some of my suspicions. And a few
other ones, concerning Karen?s house. Yesterday, when she was working,
and Sam was playing at the "Velvet", I used the time to do some
investigating. Some of what I found out was amusing. Some was unpleasant.

A familiar sound interrupts my thinking, the sound of an old, hick-up
shaking motor. Stopping, rather freezing, I see Arthur?s car passing. I
notice two unknown black guys in the car. That?s strange. And
considering what they might be using the car for, I don?t like the looks
of it.

They park it right in front of the warehouse where the "Underground" is,
and I can hear them discussing, when I retrace my steps. Both of them, a
little, skinny guy and a big, fat guy, they look very odd, like a couple
of cartoon characters. Unfortunately, they are too far away for me to
hear any of details of their argument, but I see them getting something
out of the trunk. Finally, they disappear behind the club before I can
reach them.

Thus I forget my frustration immediately, my curiosity is stirred up. I
have to know what?s going on.

*

Contrary to my first suspicion, I found no trace of them in the lower
parts of the warehouse, nor in the "Underground". When I had a look in
the crowded room, I only saw that Arthur and the guy with the trumpet
were still playing music, Sarah was talking with Sam at the bar. And it
looked like they were having a drinking contest. Not seeing the guys, I
decided that they must be upstairs.

Indecent, Sam had called the upstairs rooms, and I grin grimly when I
see it, because he is right from a very general point of view. It looks
just like another, dirtier version of the cavernous room on the other
floor, with curtains creating only temporary divisions. The light is
dimmer than downstairs, the couches and random mattresses are more
shabby, the noises are ? well, definitively sex related. I have never
been in such a room, but I already think it?s better than a public
lavatory or a park, and cheaper than a motel. The main difference
between this room and the other one is that a wall separates a third of
it from the rest. I think that?s where Sam and Arthur live, and maybe,
it?s also the unofficial headquarters of the secret business.

I?m right, though. I?m a lucky fool. When I open the door and follow the
little corridor, I can hear voices. Having no other plan than just
finding out some details about their business, I stay in the corridor.

For a while, I don?t hear anything. The men in the room are silent.
Peeping around the corner, I see three man at a kitchen table. The
small, skinny guy is sitting facing the door, but he is too agitated to
be alert. His hands are playing nervously with a little paper. The fat
man looks at him, then at the third guy, then at something or someone I
can?t see. He also seems worried, if not nervous.

The third man is the guy I have seen before, watching the bar. He is not
as interesting as his gun, laying on the table. Two cardboard boxes and
piles of money are also on that table. Looks as if they have just begun
to split the cash up.

"What shall we do if they try the same thing with us?" The fat guy is
asking finally, sounding really worried.

"Don?t talk like that! If you haven?t got the guts to continue, you?ll
just have to pay your debts. You owe me for the little bribes you take
from my properties." Coming from a corner I can?t see it?s a voice I
recognize. It?s Kane?s.

"Don?t pick on him! He knows the risk, but finding this mess hasn?t been
nice." The small guy answers hastily. His voice is very husky, revealing
urgent needs.

"Good. We have an agreement, then."

"We should tell Arthur about these dead guys." It?s the fat guy again.

"Do whatever you want! Leave the money to him, too! And ... guys, before
I forget it, you shouldn?t make errors in the counting. Don?t think I
didn?t realize it the last time!"

The voice that flirted so charmingly with me sounds very cold, nobody to
fool with. Out of the blue, a thought crosses my mind, hitting me almost
physically. I know that voice, and the memories it reveals cover my skin
with cold sweat. Only this feeling is irrational, because Kane doesn?t
look at all like this man, even if he is in the same business as the
other. Maybe, it?s just a similar character that creates this
resemblance. Besides, I?m very sure that I?ve killed the other one, I
remember his blood in my face. Quickly I try to chase away the
sensation, burned in my memory.

Unfortunately, distraction is already the first step of failure.
Footsteps reach the door very quickly and I find myself face with a very
startled Kane. I blink, he blinks. I tense, he smiles. He shouldn?t,
though. His amusement gives me enough time to raise my hand quickly,
hitting a certain spot on his neck. Unfortunately, he makes a small
sound, when he collapses, the flow of his blood interrupted.

"What the fuck - ?"

Two pairs of eyes turn to look at me. The third guy is too occupied
making a line of white powder and sniffing it quickly. The two others
are not that preoccupied, and they have guns. I see the second gun only
now, when the fat guy moves a bit. I don?t like guns, they make fights
more complicated, especially when I have no adequate weapon.

If I make a dash to the other rooms, other people could get involved,
people who are filled up with alcohol or whatever, and would not be able
to react quickly. Someone might get hurt in the process. Without
thinking, my right hand slides into the pocket of my jacket touching my
knife, inwardly cursing that Sam had wanted the chain back.

"Who the fuck you are, girly?"

They don?t expect me to answer, I see it in their eyes as they are
getting up. Choosing not to shoot me, but putting his gun in his pocket,
one of the armed men lunges forward against me. Out of nowhere, a knife
is appearing in his hand. No problem then! Using the difference in
height to slip away beneath his arm when he reaches the door, and
pushing my elbow in his back, I throw myself on the other one. The sound
of a body crashing into the corridor wall is music to my ears. The fat
man is too surprised to react fast enough, when I take his right wrist
and twist his right arm behind his back, drawing him down with this
movement. Taking the gun from his holster, I take roll away, just before
the bullet from the door hits the ground. Of course, they use a silencer
with their guns. Rolling under the table, I tip over the chair where the
third guy is still sitting, too lazy and incoherent to be any help for
the others. The shocked cry of the guy is cut short by the dreadful
noise of a head knocking the ground. I take a glance at him, while I?m
crawling from beneath the table. No sign of life! Fuck! I have no time
to get upset, because the first guy is coming around the table, the
other one is just getting up.

Two more seconds, time enough release the safety on the gun and take it
in my left hand.

"What now?" I say when the other guy is aiming at my head, I?m aiming
below his belt. Not very delicate, but nonetheless deadly, if he forces
me to shoot. I don?t want to do this. I?m not even sure if I can, but he
will never know that if I keep my deadly glare. Usually, it works as
successfully as my smile does the other way. "Will you tell your friend,
that he should stay on the other side of the table! If not, we both will
make a mess of this poor kitchen. Imagine all this blood on the floor.
I?m not sure that Arthur will appreciate it." He curls his lips in a
disgusted smile, but nods his head. I can hear the footsteps on the
other side of the table come to a stop. "Good boy."

Now, he snarls, the smile becoming even more disgusting. He looks very
disappointed that he was played out by a "girly". "Who are you?" He asks
again.

"Just a guest."

The slightly pained sound of Kane regaining consciousness interrupts
further questioning, distracting my enemy enough that I can push myself
up with my right hand. Hitting him with the gun between his legs, I
charge, using his own weight and the shock of my punch to throw him
down. He crashes into the fallen chair, breaking it to pieces. I?m not
very careful when I knock him out. I hear his gun rattling over the
floor. Though, when I lift my head, I see a foot stopping it, a foot
wearing an extraordinarily expensive shoe.

No time to think about it, because I can feel rather than see the danger
behind me. Spinning I dodge the blow and the knife just in at the right
time, then I take a step back to have more space. Glancing shortly at
Kane who slowly picks up the gun, I know I have no time to wait for the
attack, lacking the space and the right weapons.

This time the fat guy senses what I?m trying to do. He evades, and a
punch in my stomach sends me flying over the table, taking the all money
with me. I?m lucky that he doesn?t really know Martial Arts, because he
could have used my fall to his advantage. While it is still raining
coins on the floor, I come down on my feet before he can get around the
table, but I have lost the gun. A metallic taste is filling my mouth, my
own blood, but I can?t do anything about it because the fat guy is
approaching fast. Something is hitting my shoulder, but I don?t care.
Having two free hands now is enough to flip my enemy over, making him
crash in the wall, once more using his own weight. It?s even better that
he is this big and fat. Balance, or out of balance. It?s like a dance.
Ending abruptly when something hard hits my head.

*

My head is throbbing, wrapped in ice. My stomach is cold, too, freezing
cold. Icy water drips along my hips, down to where I?m lying, gathering
there in a cold pool. My fingers touch cotton. Must been someone?s bed.
It smells somewhat nice, comforting. Comforting like the calm fingers
working on my shoulder. But, the cold water gathering everywhere
underneath my body is not so comfortable. When I try to move, a sudden
pain radiates from my shoulder, and from my head.

"Wait a moment!" A quiet voice says. In this strange subspace where I?m
wavering, I find no face to connect with this voice and these hands. But
they feel good against my skin. Only the ache in my head reduces the
good feeling, making me grimace. I reach out with my free hand, touching
cotton even there. Must be a bandage. "It?s only fair. Considering what
you did to Binky?"

"Who the ? who is Binky?"

"It?s only a pet name, but maybe you remember that you made him fall out
of his chair. He hit his head very badly."

The gentle hands leave my shoulder alone, also bandaged. I regret the
loss of their touch, while I?m trying to focus my thoughts. They are
somewhat hazy, and thinking hard makes my head ache again. A chair? A
guy I made fall off a chair? My eyes snap open, the memories of the
short fight coming back to me. Now I?m laying on someone?s bed, shirt
open and hair down. It must be Arthur?s bed, because he is sitting at my
side. His gaze is very clear. But, I don?t like this. Awakening in a
strange bed without knowing how I got there.

I?m feeling the cold again. Glancing down at my abdomen, I see a towel,
obviously filled with melting ice, and a nasty looking bruise. As usual
it looks worse than it feels. That?s why I shove the towel away, sitting
up to escape the cold patch at my back. The pain makes me bite my lips,
blurring my vision for a moment.

"You should not get up yet." Arthur says calmly, my stare meeting his
eyes. Then he reaches to the place where my head had been, and takes the
second towel placed there. "It?s already melted. I?ll get some new ice
for your head."

He leaves me alone. Alone in his room. Now, that my vision is a bit
clearer, I look around. Besides the bed, he has a wardrobe near the
window, bookshelves, a desk and the necessary chairs, but this is not
the point. This is not why I have to smile after a few minutes. Arthur
has a taste for extraordinary sensual colors and forms. Kind of Art
Nouveau, like I have seen it in Paris. Very fin de siècle. The irony
that such a stylish room is set in a warehouse is amusing.

And the pictures, some photos, some reproductions. Good grief! With my
numb fingers, I start buttoning my shirt. My cheeks are burning, caused
by a sudden embarrassment about the former exposure. Conscious or
subconscious, I?ve never seen a room that revealed the sexual
inclinations of its owner so openly. His love for beautiful things.

There is one picture of Mimi. Though, only someone who knew her would
recognize her, because the photo has been taken from behind her
shoulder, while she was playing trumpet. It?s no work of art, but very
good nevertheless. The trumpet reflects the light coming from the same
direction as the camera, her hands and arms seeming to glow in this
light. Though, I believe she would be embarrassed if she knew in what
company her picture was hanging. One of them catches my eyes. It looks
kind of familiar. Highly esthetical, but, well - The back of a naked
man, lying on his side, just from the rear end to the neck where a lazy
hand, serving as a pillow, is playing with the hair. I stand up to have
a look, and then, with my hand at the my back head, I feel the ground
breaking away under my feet. The physical ache is nothing in comparison
to the shock caused by the signature on the picture. "Richard Orwell"
plus the Chinese character for "dragon". My other hand reaches out for
the chain under my shirt.

"You see, I?ve known it was you for a very long time." Arthur?s voice
makes me almost jump. "I bought it when I saw the exhibition." Oh yes, I
remember it now. We had such a violent fight because of this photo and
Rick?s wish to put it in the New York Exhibition. I was so pissed off,
that I almost broke up with him. But my gratitude and my love made me
forgive him. And now, even dead, he has trapped me. "When Maggie showed
me that picture with the kite, I was very surprised that she knows you."

"The ice is melting." I interrupt Arthur brusquely.

"Oh, sorry." He hands me the dripping towel, then sits down on the bed.
His whole body seems very strained, as if he is forcing himself to stay
upright.

Since the room had started spinning around me, when I got angry, I sit
down beside him, holding the icy towel against my head. After a while I
feel worse and I have to lay down again. It doesn?t matter anymore that
the bed is still wet. He was right, I shouldn?t have stood up. The ice
isn't helpful at all, and it is half melted anyway. I push it away, and
Arthur takes it.

"Do you have something for a headache?" My voice sounds damned weak,
but, fortunately, not whining.

"Of course." This time, he doesn?t let me wait more than a minute,
before he comes back with a glass of water and some aspirin.

"Thanks." I close my eyes, when I have taken it. Something is wrong with
me. "How long was I passed out?"

"Forty minutes."

Good Grief!

"What?s with these guys?"

"They are gone. All of them."

That means the Binky-guy is alive. For a moment, I?m endlessly relieved.

"What happened exactly?"

"I don?t know everything. When I came in, Kane was hitting you with a
part of the broken chair. It was him who shot you, too."

His look turns very odd while I?m touching my shoulder. It had been a
bullet then, that hit me there?

"Where is he anyway?"

"Gone."

Arthur scrutinizes my face, as if deciphering a mystery. I don?t
question him about the cardboard boxes and their contents. That?s for
later. First, I?m kind of glad that they didn?t kill me as a witness to
their deal.

"What?s with the bullet?"

"Don?t worry! It?s out. I have some basic knowledge of these things."

The idea, that he has removed the bullet out of my body on his own,
without the help of a doctor, is disturbing, but not too much. Though,
remembering the dizziness when I woke up I can?t do anything against the
panic. A quickly rising panic.

"What did you give me?"

"Morphine. I?m sorry, I didn?t have anything else."

Fuck! I force myself to breathe calmer, panic is fast replaced by anger,
then fury. Reaching out with my unhurt arm, I clutch his shirt and draw
him a bit nearer, forcing him to look in my eyes.

"Never do that again, Arthur! If you ever put some chemical in my blood
again without my permission, I don?t know what I might do to you. Do you
understand me?"

"Yes," He says softly, laying his hand at my throat. The nearness is
growing uncomfortable all of sudden. "and if you ever stick your nose
into this affair again, or if you do something that might put the others
in trouble, I will kill you for sure. Do you understand me?" /The
others/ must be these guys that I fought. The deadly expression in the
blue eyes tells me that he?s not bluffing. He would do it without a
second?s hesitation. The musician hides the killer. Why am I not
surprised? "Do you understand?"

There is still calm in his voice and in his eyes. But I can feel some
fractures in the icy surface, almost revealing something of his soul,
like the slight trembling of his hand. Maybe, if I pushed enough, the
ice would break completely, and I could reach him.

"Yes, I understand, but I can?t promise you anything."

"That?s what Kane said, that?s why he wanted to finish you off. Do you
know him?"

"No, I hadn?t seen him before tonight."

"He seems to know you." Arthur lets go of my throat, raising his upper
body. The growing distance helps me to slow my breathing, permitting me
to concentrate better. "He speaks very familiarly about you."

Shaking my head, I fight back my confusion. Admittedly, his voice
reminded me of something dreadful, but speaking of it is out of the
question. I find the idea absurd. Arthur gives no other hint. "You
should just stop doing this shit." The words leave my mouth before I can
prevent it. "Everything would be better if you stopped this."

"It?s impossible. It?s too late."

Stubborn, stubborn man. The adrenaline rush caused by my anger is as
helpful as the aspirin to chase away my headache.

"But we are speaking about drug dealing, Arthur."

"So what? "

I grip his arm harshly, almost satisfied when I see a slight pained
expression flash over his face. "You are killing people with this.
Profiting from their death. But, -"

"Stop preaching!"

"Don?t interrupt me!" What a jerk! "But, not only that. You make them
victims for the cops. They hunt the junkies, not the dealers. Do you
know how police raids are? Do you know how a billyclub fucking hurts
when it hits the crotch? Maybe, you can pay buy yourself a safe place
here, without the danger of police raids, or your boss does it for you,
but not everyone can do this."

"Don?t lecture me." His voice is like icy water splashing in my face. "I
know that, but there is nothing you can do about it. Fighting it is
useless and burns you out."

A deeper breath is calming me a bit. Finally, we reach the point.

"Is that what made you so miserable? The useless fights?"

"Don?t you dare to pity me!" Touché! Now, the ice is breaking. "I don?t
need your pity. I?ve found the remedy for it."

"Oblivion." Of course, I?m right. Wincing inwardly, I keep on looking at
his strained face.

"I never felt so good in my whole life. It?s a pure feeling, and it has
so many shades." Pure? Shades? Fuck! He is such a fool, such a fucking
idiot. I can almost picture him, analyzing the effects of the different
drugs, writing them in a little notebook. Though, I keep staring at him.
Arthur is paler now than before. The outburst of emotions seems to have
taken something from his force. "I never felt so whole before."

"It isn?t real, Arthur."

My voice sounds very strange to me as I?m risking sitting up again.

"No, something I can feel so deeply in my body, it must be real."

There is no doubt that he truly believes the shit he is puking out. But
I?m not ready to admit defeat, yet, and I do the only thing I can think of.

I kiss him that he must feel it in every damned inch of his body.

This was not meant to happen. Well, in a screwed up part of my brain
where I have carefully locked all my wild and crazy fantasies, I wanted
to do this since I saw him first. This and more. But, at this moment,
anger and frustration are far stronger motivation than desire. Anger
about his stubborn starved feelings and frustration because the rational
part of myself knows that I have no chance to win this fight so easily.

"This is reality, Arthur. Do you feel it?"

He nods with closed eyes.

Drawing him down with me, I take my time to drive him crazy and needy
with lips and tongue and teeth. Maybe, I would have hesitated if I had
met any resistance, but meeting shy, but open acceptance is almost too
much encouragement. The screwed up part of my brain takes over the rest,
pushing me deeply into frenzy and hunger, throbbing through my whole
body, especially one part of it. When I can feel the effects of my
ministrations on him, I flip him over. Not as easily as I thought,
because of the condition of my body, but I fight back the pain.

"This is true pleasure." I whisper against his mouth, the hand of my
unhurt arm wandering between his legs. "Do you feel it?"

The body beneath me is shuddering, and the lips close to my lips start
to give back what they had received from me. When I stroke him gently,
the hands that have clutched the sheets slide under my still loose
shirt. They remain on my back, barely touching my skin, as if Arthur was
scared to dirty me. Their trembling feels like fluttering wings.

Ignoring the flash of pain from my shoulder, I raise myself on this arm,
looking into his face. It?s covered with sweat. The blue eyes are
feverish struck between pleasure and struggling. There must be a way to
make the struggling disappear, to let pleasure, real pleasure overwhelm
them.

"Do you want more?"

"Yes."

I even manage to smile at him, when I?m crawling downwards between his legs.

*

A bitter taste fills my mouth, and it has nothing to do with what I have
swallowed. It?s the taste of defeat, of truth and reason. Whatever took
me in that moment of heat, it is gone now. Everything is worse than before.

Arthur is shattered. His chattering teeth, the terrible paleness of his
skin, and more sweat, cold sweat, are telling me what fool I was. I
should have known it better. If sex was a remedy against this starving,
nobody would be drug addicted. And some other things are very clear now.
It?s not only LSD or Cocaine that he needs. Perhaps, he just uses
Cocaine as a substitute. Morphine ? that must be it. Perhaps, the lack
of the real thing made him take the dangerous mixture last week.

"Where is it?" It must be my voice who is asking that, while I?m putting
back his clothes back on.

"I left it in the kitchen."

The relief in his voice is like a slap in the face. Though my body is an
obedient machine as it walks to the kitchen, takes the box standing on
the table. It almost looks like the box where I keep my private
documents and photos. Returning to his room and sitting down at the edge
of the bed, I open the box. As I would expect from Arthur, everything is
clean and neat. A glance at his hands reveals to me that he isn?t able
to do anything useful with them, he would rather hurt himself.

"Wait, I can do it!" Pushing himself up on his side, he reaches out with
the other hand, laying it on my arm. Not a fluttering wing anymore,
rather a cold fish. I start to prepare everything for him. Ignoring his
attempt to shake my arm until the fish slides away from it, and Arthur
rolls on his back. I?m so glad that my hair hides the most of my face,
that he doesn?t see me biting my lip until I taste blood. "It?s not the
same. I?m sorry, but it?s not the same feeling. And you ?" Almost
feverish whispers reach my ear.

"Be quiet!"

Ready. Take a breath. My own hands are shaking, and I fist them for a
moment. Ready.

It?s quickly done, and after a few seconds of waiting, the peaceful
serenity replacing the former struggle reassures me that I hadn?t put
worse shit in his vein. I would like to know if he also looked like that
when I made him come. Probably not.

"Thank you!"

"Don?t bother!" I?m almost laughing, cleaning up the syringe and putting
everything back. Then I stand up and set the box on his desk. My jacket
and my beret are lying neatly folded on the chair in front of the desk.
The jacket is damaged by the bullet hole and by blood. I?m not sure if I
can repair it. Shrugging I put it on, before pulling out a tie. I don?t
bother with my hair, just tying it together at the nape of neck, then
putting on the cap to cover the bandage as good as I can. "Arthur?"
Turning back to the bed, I see him open his eyes. He has difficulty
focusing his gaze. "I will leave now."

"I love you."

He smiles. I don?t answer.

Turning off the light and closing the door from outside, I?m feeling
like a murderer. My hands are shaking again, but my feet are obeying
when I force them to leave the apartment, ignoring the newly growing
ache in my head and the desire to throw up. I barely realize where I?m
walking. Straight through the dark room, down the stairs. Melting with
the noise of the party. I see Sam, sitting at the bar on the way to an
alcoholic collapse. No chance to get anything useful from him, and by
the way - It?s a bit more difficult to see Sarah, but then I notice her
involved in something that looks like foreplay. It would be a shame to
disturb her fun.

Somehow, my vision growing more and more blurred, my stomach revolting
and bile rising in my throat, I reach the ground floor. My legs feeling
very wobbly, I sit down on the last chair. Just a few minutes! Just a
few min-

"Hey, what?s the matter with you?" It?s Kay, quite sober, ready to
leave. "Do you want me to drive you home?"

"Yes, if it?s not too much trouble."

"No, come on!" He helps me up. Maybe he thinks I?m drunk. But on the way
to his car he gets a clearer impression of my condition. "You are hurt.
Maybe, I should ?"

"No," No hospital. I know it?s stubborn, but they would find out a lot
more things than I want other people to know. "home is just fine."

Settling down on the passenger seat of his pick-up is a great relief.
Closing my eyes, I lean my head back as well as I can with the wound
there. The movement of the car feels comfortable, gentle swaying. And
Kay has a very calm manner of driving. That is not surprising, him being
a calm man anyway.

"What happened?" He asks after a while.

Opening my eyes, trying to focus my vision, I tell him the truth. Not
everything of course, just the fight with Kane?s men. I feel better
afterwards, and he should know a lot about these affairs anyway.

"It?s an awkward situation." He answers as calm as ever, but I realize
that his knuckles are white on the steering wheel. "I have thought about
this so often, and about a way to get rid of this bunch. It?s the same
for the "Velvet", but there Arthur can only choose between paying or
dying. It?s a different league." He only confirms what Sarah told me.
"But, Kane ? I have even thought about killing that guy." Another guy
speaking very calmly about killing people, but I don?t make any comment.
He is the only one of them who seems to take this problem seriously.
"But, I like this place too much. It?s a nice little utopia of
immorality, precious in my eyes." His choice of words makes me smile,
despite the hammering in my head. A utopia of immorality ? this sounds
very neat to me. And I understand why Sam likes this guy so much, and I
know what keeps him and Maggie together. "For that reason, I don?t want
the police raiding it. I haven?t found a solution yet, to end this and
to keep the police away. And, none of us has enough money to buy us out.
It?s a high price for freedom, but sometimes you can?t take it for granted."

Reflecting on such complicated problems is too tiring at the moment. As
much as I try, I cannot really concentrate. I close my eyes again,
dozing in a strange world between consciousness and black holes. It
would be nice just to fall in into those holes.

Sometime later, a hand is shaking my shoulder, and I notice that I have
fallen asleep. A few minutes are necessary to get my wits together and
recognize Kay Blackhawk. He looks very worried, then smiles.

"I thought you had blacked out." He lets out a breath, somewhat
relieved. "We are arrived. Do you think that you are able to climb the
stairs?"

"Yes, no problem." I answer, feeling a bit better.

Getting out of the car and finally crossing the road. I manage
everything without collapsing to the ground.

"Do you know that someone is following you?" He asks me, when we have
entered the house, and I?m surprised that he has noticed it.

"Yes. It?s a private detective."

"Do you want me to find out something about him?"

Even in my condition, I almost laugh. Subconsciously, he has revealed a
lot of things to me with just one phrase. He is used to finding out
about people following him, and he has the sources to do it. But I don?t
ask him, maybe another time when I feel better. I just tell him that I
can make it the rest of the way alone, but I need some time before I can
really convince him.

"Okay, have it your way. I will tell Maggie to look after you tomorrow."
Obviously, he had been on the way to see her, before he found me at the
stairs. He is grinning and a bit embarrassed, when I look at him, as if
he knows what I?m thinking. "Mister Techaco is an extremely liberal for
a father." He states. "I mean, he doesn?t say anything when I come to
see her in the middle of the night."

"She is twenty-two."

"Yes, but it is very special."

He is right anyway, and thinking about this man reminds me of something
else.

"Could I ask you a favor?"

"What is it?"

"Can you ask him for Apomorphine?"

"What?s this?"

"A medication."

It?s only half a lie, and he shrugs. Kay departs and I start to make my
way to the eighth floor. It is not as easy as I thought, but remembering
one of the things I found out yesterday distracts me from my headache.
The solution to the riddle of why Yacko sometimes doesn?t hear the phone
when someone is calling in the night. Why it is never really difficult
to convince him that he had to stay home at night. And what a fine way
he had found to impress the other kids. Where could you find a better
place to create secret hiding place than in a house with empty
apartments. The only thing bothering me a bit, is what to do with the
electrical stuff his little gang has stored in their place. But well, I
admit that these things don?t prevent me from sleeping.

Luckily, I reach my rooms without any problem. Though, I can not lie to
myself. Something is really wrong with my head, and I?m glad to know
that Maggie will come to see me.

I?m too tired to transform my couch in a proper bed, too tired to take
off my clothes. Just laying down and sleep that is the best. I really
feel like shit, and not only because of the throbbing pain in my head.

No, tonight was not my night.

 

**

*Author?s notes: *Well, sigh, well. Are you still there? I hadn?t
planned this to happen, but now, it is done, and they have to deal with it.

1. Let?s talk about the hero! Okay, here he does things the original
would never do. Kenshin is a straight (or at the limit bisexual) 19th
century swordsman, raised by an arrogant master, hired as an assassin
because of his extraordinary fighting skills. Shintaro is a "20th
Century?s Boy", a dancer, gay and raised by a woman. These different
biographies make them sometimes two very different persons, even when
they have a similar personality. I have realized while writing the story
that every person becomes very different in another background. That?s
why Alternate Universes are very delicate as fanfiction.

However, Shintaro is based on Kenshin?s character for many aspects of
his personality. The principal common thread is passion, or compassion.
Kenshin might hide it behind a polite appearance, or the efficiency of
an assassin, but when he makes decisions they are mostly caused or
influenced by his compassion for other people. Besides, I have my own
special theory about Kenshin being a sort of catalyst for other people,
because in his fights he always tries to reach something inside them.
That?s what the speeches are for. For Shintaro, I tried to keep these
fundamental aspects. He is passionate, and most of time, tries to hide
it, because it gets him into trouble. As you could see it in this chapter.

Since this story is not a story about invincible warriors, I put some of
the conflicts on a psychological level. That?s why my heroes have
sometimes quite unusual ways to fight.

A third aspect of the character is that, after my opinion, Kenshin as
the Battousai is very often a projection of his enemy. By that, I mean
that his enemies are fighting him because of his reputation, believe
they know what kind of person he is, just because they believe they know
who Battousai is. This is something I kept for my hero, but he is an
object of other people?s projection rather because of his appearance.

By the way, the person calling him "Venus" on the phone is the same who
called him "princess" on the post card. I changed this fact in chapter 4.

2. Let?s talk characters (II)!: No comments about Sam and Arthur in this
chapter. Thomas Kane is Takeda Kanryuu. Binky and Co. are the
Oniwabanshu. And, yes, I?m aware that Binky is the name of Dead?s horse
in Terry Pratchett?s Discworld Novels. I kept it nevertheless, because I
think it?s a funny nickname for a small man. I made them black, because
Mimi is, and it isn?t my intention to promote the idea that dealing
drugs is only related to black people. My story contains a lot of drug
dealers, and most of them are white, or multicolor.

3. Let?s talk characters (III)! WTF is Richard? He is one more original
character, but the last important one I introduce by the way. He is an
original character, because he can?t be Okita. In the chapter that
reveals more of his background, I will give you an explanation for that
statement.

4. Let?s talk drugs: The signs of physical addiction Arthur is
manifesting in this chapter are typical of addiction to opiates (Opium,
Morphine or Heroin). Normally, they start 36 hours after the last dose,
but I made the time lapse a bit shorter. I think it is natural that
exhaustion might provoke a faster downfall. As mentioned, cocaine is
sometimes used as a substitute.

The difference between hard drugs and weed/marijuana: Of course, I
consider marijuana a drug, as much as nicotine and alcohol and
everything other (normal) people can be addicted to. Marijuana becomes
dangerous like alcohol when one is smoking it regularly. The effects of
constant marijuana consumption are similar to the effects of alcohol
abuse. And, I think, in the same way as someone can become addicted to
alcohol he can become addicted to marijuana, but not automatically. It?s
a question of a persons general disposition. However, in the U.S.,
dealing marijuana is forbidden since 1923.

I took care to study the drug problems very carefully, but I used mostly
German sites. That?s why I don?t post them. What Apomorphine is will be
explained in later chapters.

"They hunt the junkies not the dealers." - I've found different sources
writing about that problem, saying the same thing. An internet site
dedicated to the "War on Drugs" wrote that Hoover denied the existence
of the Mafia and similar organizations. In this period, the FBI was
still more occupied looking for Communists than organized crime.

5. Let?s talk the FBI: As we are speaking about Edgar J. Hoover. It?s
him who is called "the godfather" by Shatner. It?s meant to be irony,
just because of the mentioned policy. His little department is justified
by the search for secret service connections not by the search for
organized criminals.

Posted first: 06-02-2003

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