Paradise Lost
Matthew Ryan Fischer
66 never wanted to be a drug dealer. When he was young, he never imagined
he would become a killer, but that had happened too. If 66 knew one thing, it
was that wants and dreams seldom had anything to do with outcomes. He had come
to Jakarta to escape trouble in Bandung, only to find himself in over his head
once again. 47 was a reliable sort of guy, same routines, same jokes, same
stories. Low drama, if you were okay with the same.
Paradise was a party drug, but there was another mix the gang was
working on. An amphetamine that supposedly gave the user a burst of strength and
energy to go along with his euphoria. Perfect for going into a berserker rage
in battle if you didn’t want to feel any pain. 66 wasn’t that sort of fighter,
he preferred his wits and wisdom and would take his skill and precision over
someone else’s fury and rage. He had no need to taste the drug, but more importantly
he had no desire to test his abilities against someone using. It was one thing
to trust yourself, it was another to risk your life on it. 47 swore by it, but
66 had so far avoided both mixes.
66 was introduced to 47’s bosses. Von was the head of the cartel.
He was wheelchair bound, but had his own army of doctors administering experimental
treatments. He was supposedly the first one to try the latest batch of
Paradise, and if rumors were true, it allowed him the ability to ignore his
pain long enough to stand up. 66 couldn’t imagine risking his life on new experimental
drugs, but he also couldn’t imagine what it would be like living in a chair. He
supposed at a certain point it was worth the risk.
Kimi was a chemist that 47 had clearly slept with or was sleeping
with or was trying to sleep with. 66 could see the desire in his eyes and in
the playful way Kimi glanced back. Maybe they thought they were keeping it a secret.
Maybe they were. Von didn’t seem to notice. It was still a bad idea, thought
66. A slip in judgement, mistakes made, and then they could both end up dead.
But that wasn’t 66’s problem.
Business was good, and some of his worries were assuaged. It
seemed as though Von was paying tribute to one of the families that ran Jakarta.
As long as they didn’t attract the attention of the police, things should be
okay.
But then the crazy gunman started shooting up the town. 66 and 47
were no longer guarding shipments and dealers, but were given a hunt and kill
task.
“Just like old times…”
66 nodded in agreement, although he was slightly less thrilled
than 47 was. Despite his best efforts, the old skills were back in style.
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