Changeling Pt. 1 - Teil 4

Kelaste picked up the satchel, and shook it a bit to inspect the grey content. Most of the time you had to be pretty careful on what you injected, some dealers tended to give one-timers unclean drugs to save money, but the powder looked pretty clean. Tasting it with one finger he took a good look around to find a solution for the other small problem that kept him from getting into subspace: Someone to inject the H.
Kelaste hated needles up to an extent where he risked a full-blown turkey before he fixed himself. Not that this had ever happened: There was always some junkie who'd do it for him for a few bucks.
Right now, two shabby, starved creatures stood near the exit of the men's room and mustered him with the dead eyes of carnivorous creatures. Was he prey? Was he not? One of them eyed the small plastic bag in his hand with intense glares. He had a green close-cut Mohawk, his clothing tangled and dirty beyond wearable, face pale like a ghost, thick black rings around his eyes. His left hand shook with small, hasty tremors, giving away his need for a fix.
Before the guy could decide on jumping him and giving him a good whack up, Kelaste waved him near, and purred "Enough for both of us, mate, what'cha say?"

They locked themselves into one of the cubicles and got the shots ready in no time. His new companion smelled of sweat and dirty human refuse, a fine thread of sickness in the stink that surrounded him. HIV positive, Kelaste concluded, while unpackaging his one-way-syringe, once again grateful over having enough money to buy such small conveniences.
When the other man injected the shot into his arm, Kelaste was surprised by the concentrated carefulness the guy applied. He must have been a good-hearted, nice fellow once, he thought to himself, and ignored the pain that thought brought to his heart. No use getting all melancholic over strangers, damn it! he chastised himself, biting his tongue to stop himself from asking questions that were none of his business.
Luckily the H started racing through his body, made him gasp softly, cleared his head to the point of burning bliss and let him sink back onto the toilet seat, while his helper injected his own shot, and stumbled out of the cubicle with a grunted "Cheers".

He watched the two junkies go with a tranced stare, pondering about the fact that he had forgot to ask his fixing partner if he wanted a blowjob. It took him nearly two minutes to realize that someone was leaning against the wall vis-a-vis his cubicle-kingdom, staring at him in amused silence. Another thirty seconds went by as he mustered his guest with crawling-slow thoughts, until he realized that it was the mohawked guy he had been all hot about before. Then his heart started to race, pumping adrenaline-drowned blood into his brain - and into his loin. Kelaste gasped, then froze as he realized what the guy held in his right hand.
Mr. Mohawk had a gun pointed at him, still smiling.