A Step in the Right Direction

Fiend taps the rolled up note against the glisten of the crystal glass tray rested comfortably on his legs, the same way it had so many times before. Pressing his two dominant fingers against his nostrils, he inhaled sharply, allowing his nose a sharp burst of air to force the few remaining clogs of powder into his system. He paused a moment before releasing a sigh of relief.

It was another typical Tuesday morning for Fiend and after spending the last 30 minutes praying he'd nod back off to sleep, he'd decided to drag himself out of bed and rustle his way through the empty takeaway boxes and other assorted obstacles found littered across his apartment. He'd found himself in his usual spot somewhere in the middle of the sofa, his hair still a mess and his breath still stinking of last nights spicy chicken - which would only be masked by his usual tradition of downing last night's cold, stale coffee. But it didn't matter to him... He'd feel human again very soon.

His eyes began to dilate as he wiped the last of yesterday's coffee from his top lip before slamming the cup down. He rose to his feet and temporarily lost control to a sudden stretch which seemed to possess his body like some fictional soul-dwelling demon. Immediately after his body is freed from the hold, he finds himself dashing for the coffee machine. With the switch flicked and the coffee beginning to brew, only a cigarette could fill his waiting time. He'd already missed his chance at a decent snag for lunch time, so he had to make extra effort to ensure he was ready in time to catch the end of the market. Those purses weren't going to steal themselves and if he didn't get a move on, he'd have nothing to give the boss this Friday. He was late last week - twice in a row would be a foolish move. He couldn't risk losing his market shenanigans to some no-namer trying to sneak in on top of him. With that thought, he rushed around the apartment preparing himself for another day in the struggle.

Fiend would often complain silently to himself about his 'struggle' but he never forgot how much worse life could be. He'd seen good times and bad times - some better than now and some worse. He was happy with his life but he was greedy. Fiend was a greedy and hungry man with a very addictive personality. It showed itself repeatedly in everything he did - from smoking to gambling and women to drugs - arguably the best makings of any mobster. He was happy with his life. His complaints were just his brains reminder to keep striving. However, as with any strength comes a weakness: drugs.

The drugs were fun at first - they still were, even. They were just highly required desired by him, now. His addiction didn't bother him, he wasn't a sufferer. He was fortunate enough to still enjoy his habit. It just meant he had to work harder but that was the beauty of it - it was self-propelling. The harder he worked, the better he lived and every good mobster knows: the better the drugs, the better the end result, whether that be the profit or the buzz.

He didn't know it yet, but today would be the day Fiend would taste a new addiction. It was doubtful anything would overshadow his love for drugs but today would be an eye-opener he'd remember forever. It seems regardless of his shortcomings with last weeks kick-up, something bigger had gone wrong higher up the chain and he was due to find himself making an accidental meeting with the Don's closest, Morgaine who had an invite (more of a request) for him. Of course, this was really no accident - she'd been waiting there for him since before lunch and upon bumping into him, her lacking patience refused her the ability of niceties.

"Listen.. You gotta start turning up on time. The boss wants you doing extra, so you better not let him down."

She slammed a piece of paper into his chest,

"Go here. All the details are there. Try to make it out of bed before lunch, though."

Shocked, he took the paper and watched the woman disappear into the crowd.