ic The Meadows Of Plenty

[Poncho]

(GM Post)

 

The boss looked at Luther. Suspicion continued to inflame his edges.

 

"You sure do have a lot more interest in where this stuff is coming from than the average hophead." he said. That was some old slang. He smiled softly. A dangerous, knife edged smile. He leaned back. He thought about it.

 

"...But you do have money. Fine. You wanna know where it comes from? You can come back with me. I'll take you to the manufacturing plant straight up, moneybags." his smile was just a little less aggressive; Luther was maybe slowly earning this man's trust, or at least not his complete distaste. He looked down at the sales going on and rang a bell.

"Pack it up! We're leaving for the night! You all stay ready for when our next drop is happening!" he barked. He looked back at Luther.

 

"So what do you say, you coming with me?"

[Supercape]

Lament

 

Luther didn't trust this man as far as he could throw a dried up dog turd (which was actually pretty far, he knew, from a childhood prank that is best left untold) - he remained on his guard, but carried on with his bluster out of momentum. 

 

"Yah, sure. I want a piece of the action!"
 

A loaded statement, "Action". 

 

It was only when he confidently strutted after the dealer, keen to find out the mysterious source of joy, that a very cold and hard worry hit him in the gut. 

 

If the Void was sated, the Void would not feed. And if the Void would not feed, then Luther would be unable to call upon the soul-sucking powers that he relied on to rip through these goons. 

 

He would be left to his wit and will, and the sap tucked in his belt under his shirt, to face of an army of drug dealers with automatic weapons!

 

 

[Poncho]

(GM Post)

 

The market was stripped down quite fast; the Joyheads were tossed out- the guards rousting them with enthusiasm-, the tables torn down, the boxes loaded into black SUVs. There was still a bunch of Joy rattling in those boxes, but a lot had been sent out as well. The dealers scampered and made themselves scarce to avoid getting rousted as violently as the Joyheads. The sellers turned in buy sheets and sell sheets, along with their lockboxes and the money within; that was put into a different SUV, one that sat heavy on it's wheels and was clearly well armored- even more than the others-. 

 

There was a minor commotion however when one of the drivers couldn't find the keys to one of the cars.

 

"Where did you put them down?" asked someone else, as the man frantically pawed at his pockets.

 

"I don't know! I don't know. I didn't put them down anywhere." 

 

"Well what happened today? Did someone steal them? Some drug head?"

 

"...Maybe? There was one guy who got way up too close to me while we were patrolling. Some weirdo dressed up like a zombie; I figured he was some extra so hungry for Joy he didn't even btoher changing before running over here." he mumbled.

 

The Boss sighed in frustration at this and looked at Luther.

 

"You really can't get good help." he said to him, though it seemed less like confiding in someone he trusted and more like telling the only person not in the job about his complaints in the job; a representation of the sociological effect of The Stranger, so to speak. 

 

"We're leaving! When you find your keys, hurry up and catch up." The boss said before turning to one of his guards next to Luther and whispering to him. Luther could still hear it, though.

 

"He has an hour. Dump him after that and call me so we can get the car moved. If it takes more than half an hour, let him drive the car back then dump him after you get back. We can't have loose ends." he said with confidence and calm; placing a death warrant on a man whose only flaw was losing his keys.

 

The same keys Luther had in his pocket right now.

 

"Come on, Moneybags, we're going." The Boss said, climbing into the back of one of the SUVs, the door hanging open for Luther.

[Supercape]

GM

 

Luther felt the grip of guilt in his chest. These were not men deserving of much sympathy, and Luther, whilst kindly enough, was not a kindly man. But still - a death sentence? 

 

This was rapidly turning from joy to crap. 

 

An hour. I'd better wrap this up fast then!

 

"Where are we going?" he asked as he climbed into the SUV. "And how long will it take? I get car sick, you see..."

 

This was not a total lie. He did have a tendency to get travel sick, on extended journeys, and it was exacerbated by not driving or having a good view of the road. Still, it was hardly the worst of his problems. Luther hated guns, but he found himself wondering if, in extremis, he could snatch an SMG, even a pistol, if he needed to fight his way out of it. Better than his bare fists. 

 

He suddenly realised he was scared! More scared than he had been since the Void bonded to him. 

[Poncho]

(GM Post)

 

"We're going to the production factory." He said, cooly. Eyeing Luther again. Maybe a little suspiciously. "I can't tell you exactly where, moneybags, you gotta respect the hustle at least a little, don't you? Can't have someone showing up before we get there...we'll be there when we get there." he waffled his hand, uninterested. "If you get sick, well, you can roll down the window I guess...Or what, do you want to sit in the front?" He frowned and sighed. "I guess we could put you at the front if that makes you feel better. Though I'm not sure I want you to be able to see exactly where we're going, so what do you suggest."

 

Then he considered the other side of it.

 

"...We'll get there when we get there. Maybe about an episode of The Wire. You like The Wire, moneybags? It's a good show."

[Supercape]

Lament

 

"Sure, I can respect a hustle. How do you think I got bags of money?" asked Luther, laughing. It wasn't entirely untrue, either. He had been a wily fox as a youngster. 

 

"The Wire is a great show," he added, wondering why the crook had chosen that as a benchmark. Drugs, sure. But lots of crooks and lots of violence, too. 

 

"Why, you wearing a wire?" he asked with a laugh. 

 

The problem was no much more tricky. How long was an episode. About an hour. 

 

That was cutting things very tight. 

 

"Just put a bag over my head and put me in the front," he said. 

 

The plan was to bump into this goon and plant the missing keys on him, loosely, so they would fall out. 

 

Ye gods! What a pickle!

[Poncho]

(GM Post)

 

"Why, are you?" he responded to the wire question, chuckling. "Why would I wear a wire in my own business, wouldn't be worth anything." he noted with a laugh. But he indicated to one of the guys and they helped Luther into the front and put a bag over his head, at which point Luther palmed the keys into his pocket.

 

And then Luther couldn't really see anything, but he could hear what was going on. He could hear the guy grunt as he tried to turn the key.

 

"...What the." he frowned. "This key isn't working."

 

"Don't tell me you lost your damn key too!" The boss yelled in anger.

 

"I didn't! I didn't, hold on!" The goon said in concern. There was some ruffling. "...I have...two sets of keys?"

 

"Why do you have two sets of keys."

 

"I don't know, boss. I musta picked them up. Maybe I found Gregory's and forgot about it."

 

"So you're great at finding things but have rocks for brains huh?" Now the boss was moving around.

"I don't know how I got it!"

"I bet he stole it from me to make me look bad! He's never liked me!"

"Oh shut up Greg!"

 

"**** you Lenny!" And it was going on like this with the sack on Luther's head.

Tension was definitely building hard, anger rising to a boiling point.

 

Then there was a rumbling.

 

"ALL OF YOU SHUT UP AND GET BACK TO WORK!" The voice was an explosion, Luther is pretty sure he feels the car bounce under him before there's silence. What the hell just happened? Something not good. Something bad enough the Void itself seems to be slightly more awake; turning over in it's happy sleep, giving the equivalent of a 'hurhg', then falling asleep again. It was total silence other than the motion of people entering the car, it turning on, and it driving off. Order had been restored. And something terrifying had happened.

[Supercape]

Lament

 

It took a lot to rattle Luther LeGrasse, and even more to rattle Lament - but rattled he was. That voice, that sound, seem to crack through his ribs and into his heart. 

 

Just nerves... he told himself. The prospect of an overfed and lethargic void was unpleasant. It was like being in a gunfight and suddenly finding your revolver was firing blanks. And, by the looks of things, a gunfight might well be his fate. Luther had never seen so many firearms in one place. 

 

I really don't like guns. 

 

The thing about nerves was to hide them. He rapped the side of the van and called out to the driver. "Everything ok? Sounds like Satan himself popped up. Maybe he wants in on the joy action too? Hahaha..."

 

Not the best joke. But then, the response would be telling. 

 

 

Edited November 16 by Supercape

[Poncho]

(GM Post) 

 

"Hah, Big Evil, coming up to our little Las Vegas? Ain't that a treat to think about." The Boss said, giving himself a little chuckle. "Moneybags, Satan wouldn't need to pop up. He's in this town ain't he? In the very bones. Las Vegas and Hollywood, the Heart and Soul of Old Scratch himself. He never left, he just changed forms."

 

If he was making facial expressions it was hard to tell, but he was quiet again for a little while.

 

"But no, he ain't who we're meeting. We ain't worth that much."

 

The car slowly pulled to a stop. 

 

"Ready to see it?"

[Supercape]

Lament

 

"I guess Satan is a busy man," said Luther. "Especially in Vegas."

 

Now weren't that the truth. But somehow, Luther had a soft spot for Vegas; the evil might have been hidden under a glamour of lights and, well, glamour - but Vegas never pretended to be something it wasn't. It was good, it was evil, all rolled into a throw of a dice or the slice of a deck. And to a good tune with dancing girls. 

 

In any case, he was glad the car stopped. Where were they?

 

Probably in the middle of a desert. 

 

"Ready to see it? you bet..."

 

He got ready to feel the barrel of a gun or the point of a knife in his back. 

[Poncho]

(GM Post)

 

Luther was helped out, but there was no gun put to his back, yet. The bag was pulled off, and he was shown...what looked like an abandoned industrial building.

 

"Did you know, Moneybags, that there's Oil under this beautiful city? The blood and bones of Dinosaurs, turned into the lifeblood of our great society. We can't just leave it there, even when we're using the area on top of it. So they built buildings like this all over California and Nevada. They're all full, full to the brim, of oily goodness. Plenty of wells in there, just for the taking. While people gamble their lives away a few blocks away, the rich folks who really own these places pull the blood from the earth and get richer." He grinned as he opened the door.

 

"But wouldn't you know it, when you dig deep, you'll never know what you'll find." The oil wells were pumping still, but it wasn't oil they were pumping anymore; they glowed with Joy, full of the miracle chemical.

 

"Well well well, Zander. Why'd you bring this man back here?" The sound of hard soled shoes and a cane rung through the building. A man who was clearly a demon, or at least not human. His eyes were the red of brimstone, a pair of horns like a deer sprouted from his forehead. He was wearing an immaculate red suit with black trim, his cane was maple wood with a snarling hellhound topper.

 

"He has money. A lot of it. And wants to distribute." Zander- the Boss, who it was quickly becoming clear was not the boss of anything at all- explained.

 

"Well, I do so love money, and I'm always looking for distributors." the Demon said, smiling. "So, perhaps we should talk seriously. My good friend, why do you want to sell some Joy? What makes Zander think you're such a good fit that he'd bring you back to me?"

[Supercape]

Lament

 

Satan had, indeed, been busy. 

 

Luther suspended judgement. He had seen plenty of outrageously impressive make up artists and costumers. Not to mention the possibility of superhero shapechanging powers, or holographic technology. Was this truly a demon. 

 

It would fit, no question. Quite poetic really, a demon trading joy in the name of misery. 

 

"I wasn't expecting such magnificent company," say Luther, with a bow. "I mean... what do I call you? Bub?"

 

"I got my money, I got contacts. Hollywood! It's like Vegas, just more narcisists. Yes, I know, its hard to believe, what with Vegas setting the bar so high, but I urge you to believe it!"

 

He shuffled slightly.

 

"But, heres the thing. The market is there. A lot of market. But... the clients are a little bit more health conscious, if you catch my drift. Whats in this joy? How do you make it?"

[Poncho]

(GM Post)

 

"Of course, of course. They need the latest health fads, don't they? No Gluten, no Dairy, non GMO, all that fun stuff." The (real) boss laughed. But his laugh wasn't the loud harsh chuckle of a gangster. It was the refined, somewhat quiet laugh of a business man, of a man from old money and old lands. "You know, Gluten actually helps prevent demonic possession, great move by Prince Gaap to start putting that up as a dangerous substance, it's really helped his business." he leaned on his cane.

 

"Though his business isn't my business. I am Ronove, a Marquis, so it is my pleasure to meet you, now what is your name? Your real name, if you would please" he asked. "I find Zander's nicknames a bit...childish at times." he inclined his head towards his underling, then shook his head slightly. "He's a good man, but he has his own quirks, of course." He walked around a little, checking the wells.

 

"Joy, Joy...what makes it. What makes Joy...goodness. Okay. I suppose it's fair to ask." he continued to walk, his cane striking the ground to hold him up as he did so. "When I was sealed under The Greens, a thousand years ago, there was only one thing that could keep me locked down; happiness. I blame the Master Mage from back then; bit of a pain in the rear, that one. So as long as people were happy up there, it would keep me locked down there." he sighed.

 

"But the Casino owners weren't happy with the amount of pie they were getting; the Greens kept getting darker as they shifted the odds; as losers piled up, winners went down. There was less and less happiness. Less keeping me locked down. At this point, maybe one in a hundred thousand people who enter the city win. That's just not enough to keep me closed up. Soooo, I got out." he smiled.

 

"And now, when those people come to Vegas and lose, instead of that Joy going to my prison, to keep me sealed down, it gets pulled straight into these modified wells, and we bottle it up." he chuckled. "Sometimes, we sell the Joy back to the same people we stole it from, which is really funny, to me at least."

[Supercape]

Lament

 

Lament had several names. The Duke of despair, the Lord of Lamentations, the Marquis of Melancholia, the Sultan of sorrow. And of course, the great Zombo. And even Luther LeGrasse. But damned if he was going to give a devil (if it was a devil) any of them. 

 

"Eric Zann," he came up with, after a HP Lovecraft story he hoped the devil had not heard. Best he could do in a pinch. 

 

"So its not really created. More... recycled?" he asked. 

 

It was actually quite a conundrum. There was, as far as Luther could see, no net loss, no net gain of Joy. Just a kind of cycle of it, with this devil spinning the wheel. What was his game? money?

 

"So what's in it for you? You got your freedom, guess you don't want the gold ching ching. I don't mind doing a deal with the devil, but I gotta know what the big picture is."

 

 

[Poncho]

(GM Post)

 

"Eric, hm? Well, so be it. Welcome, Eric. Welcome to our little family." He seemed to have not heard of it, at least. It would have been hard for him to, if his timeline of when he was sealed away and when he woke up was correct. 

 

"And exactly right, Eric. It's not created, it's recycled. I'm doing the world a favor; it's burning out, anyway, so here's me, doing my part to recycle." the old devil said with a smile. His expression and demenor never rose above casual conversation as he talked.

 

"And as for me and what I get? Well, you're correct that for me, it's not about the money. It's about the chaos. When people get addicted to Joy, then lose access to it; that's where it c omes in to me. They lash out, they can't feel happy again, they need the Joy. And in the end, that makes them open to deals; not just from me, but from the other demons as well. After all, the most stringent contracts are always when the signee is a wit's end. That's why I love that I could set this up here in The Greens. Imagine all those people coming here, trying Joy, then leaving across the world again; not aware that they'll be desparete for Joy in just a few days, with no way to get back unless they're willing to travel, again and again. Either they do that, and still eventually run out of money, or they try to hold back, or can't travel so freely, and then that's where we show up with the pen and scroll, willing to do whatever they need to get that hapinees back." he tapped his cane on the ground.

 

"That is Joy, Eric; and if you bring it to Hollywood, well, we'll have two beautiful points of Joy in this poor, dark, desparete world."

[Supercape]

Lament

 

He swallowed that easy. Maybe too easy! Or maybe Luther was just a master of swagger, disguise, and false identities. Yes, that was probably it. It was a good thing Luther didn't have a massive ego. It was incredible, really, how really really humble he was. 

 

Anything to the contrary would be fake news. SAD. 

 

Burning out? That sounded ominous. The world could do with some joy right now. 

 

"Well, if there is green dollar to be have, count me in. You can keep the chaos, just give me the money to blow on life's pleasures. Maybe even Joy itself - but I got to be honest, I seen to many people blow too much stuff up their nose in Hollywood. Good for me, bad for them. So I gotta ask - what are the long term effects?"

[Poncho]

(GM Post)

 

"Eric. Eric Eric." The man tsked.

 

"Isn't that dangerous? To take your own product, to use your own merchandise. That's how you end up getting your arms chopped off south of the border, isn't it? At least that's how I've heard it. I admit that my knowledge has quite a few gaps, given how long I was napping." Ronove said, finally completing his circuit to stand in front of Eric, leaning on his cane.

 

"Are you really willing to deal but also take Joy? I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that; the product needs to be spread out to cause the most issue, not hoarded by one single person...unless you make it a game. Then, I suppose, you could have quite some fun with it." he pondered again, always thinking.

 

"But asking about Long Term effects, oh, that's the question of an addict, not a seller. A seller doesn't care what happens so long as the money keeps flowing. So tell me Eric, are you a Seller, or a Buyer? I don't know that you can be both. I'll gladly sell you as much Joy as you have money to burn, but I'm not sure I'm willing to set you up with a distribution contract." he moved to sit down, and a crimson plush armchair appeared behind him to catch him as he sat, still holding his cane in front of him.

 

"Give me a plan, Eric. Just off the top of your head, let's play a little Shark Tank. Think on your feet and pitch me; why should I be looking at you as a distributor, as someone I'm trusting to take my business to Hollywood, instead of as someone I'm just going to sell a truck full of Joy to right now and never think of again until you run out?"

[Supercape]

Lament

 

"You ever been to Hollywood?" said Luther, starting his pitch. It was a prickly sensation, but it was just the right kind of prickly sensation - Luther loved an act!

 

"Its got dreams, and its got plenty of places your dreams can shatter. And its a long way to fall when they do. C'mon... this is the holy city of narcissists. Its the biggest belly you will ever get for Joy."

 

"I know the agents, the actors, the directors there. Not all, that's true, but some. Truth is, you don't need me. Joy practically sells itself in Hollywood - directors need a pick me up, actors need a false mood. The fallen at the bottom of the shark pool need something just to stop it hurting so bad. So why you need me? You don't. But you might want me still - because I can sell it faster than you can. I can start the ball rolling off a steeper hill."

 

He paused, gave a bow. 

 

"Eric Zann, at your service."

 

"And you don't need to warn me about taking it. I'm not going to. But look, I won't lie... the only problem in Hollywood is the narcissism of the narcissists. Does it make you fat? Does it give you acne? Does it make you fall asleep? Or your head explode? The one thing those fools wont stand for is a drop of the mask, if you know what I mean. You need a good complexion for the camera. But hey, if it causes weight loss, you could charge people there own body weight in gold..."

[Poncho]

(GM Post)

 

"Mmmm." Ronove pondered, tapping his cane on the ground a little. Thinking. Mulling it over. Finally he sighed.

 

"You've got a point I suppose, Eric. I don't have the capability to leave The Greens right now, but selling Joy somewhere else would be a big benefit to me actually being able to leave this city sometime this decade or so. And letting you do it does seem expedient, even if your enthusiasm is...almost concerning." he chuckled.

 

"Side effects, huh? The Side effects of Joy is two fold. Both designed to make it so that you spend more and more on Joy. The first is that it's highly addicting, of course. Who wouldn't want to be happy all the time. Who wouldn't want to never feel bad again? But that feeds directly into the second one. That you will start to always want more, and more. Joy is Happiness, unrestrained, unrestricted, unbarred and unbothered. It's Happiness untinged by the nagging worries; the Vacation to Disney World without having to worry about finances, the promotion at work without having to sell your soul. Your own happiness will eventually pale in comparison to what Joy gives you, because it's 'free', it's 'easy', it's 'simple'. That's your side effect; that you stop feeling happy unless you're on Joy, because all your happy memories become part of Joy."

[Supercape]

Lament

 

"Aha. Tolerance," said Luther, stroking his chin. A few hairs there, now. The stubble of a long day. 

 

Joy was, ultimately, no different from any other drug. Craving, tolerance, withdrawal - the three cardinal features. And maybe worse, burning out the capacity to feel joy naturally, like NMDA. Was it magic, or neurotoxocity? did it matter? Lament was neither neuroscientist nor occultist. 

 

"That may take a bit more of a... nuanced approach. We don't want bad press, at least too quickly. Sooner or later it won't matter, of course..."

 

There was a bleak truth. 

 

It also meant Luther had to stop this devil. 

 

"So how we doing this? You got a mobile number? or do I meet you here by moonlight? Wherever here is..."

 

He looked around. Any landmarks?

 

[Poncho]

(GM Post)

 

Ronove smiled.

 

"Come now, I'm a Demon, dear boy. We don't have to deal with such measures as a cell phone, unless you really want me to." he smiled.

 

It was hard to tell where Luther was while he was inside this building. He'd have to go outside to see. And that'd be hard without revealing himself. He wasn't in a good way to figure out where exactly he was. He needed a chance to step outside if he was going to figure out where he was, and then what? Ronove leaned back in his chair.

 

"You give me your address in Hollywood, and when you get there, there will be as many cases of Joy as you're willing to buy sitting on your doorstep or patio. After that, each month on the new moon, you'll put an envelope of cash on your doorstep- or your patio, if you're living in an apartment up high-, and the next day, you'll have your Joy waiting on you. Easy, fast, smooth. We only do it this way here because I like the fun games Zander plays with the shuffling around. I'd suggest you do it that way over there too; make the 'drops' something special, you know? That'll really get people into the feeling of having to buy it, because who knows if they'll get an invite to the next one?" he grinned his devilish grin and leaned back.

 

"So, how many cases do you want to buy?"

[Supercape]

Lament

 

"Six hundred and sixty... six!" said Luther, arms raised, oozing melodrama. 

 

"That's a poetic number, right? You look like a poetic type of soul. If you have a soul, that is. I don't wish to offend. Although, on the subject of soul's... I am quite happy to buy joy with money, but I am afraid I must hold onto my soul. I only have the one, you see..."

 

Luther wasn't sure if he believed in souls, only that he he believed he would never know. Sure, he had some voudou spouting grand-relatives back in New Orleans who would lecture him on incomprehensible notions of souls and spirits, but Luther didn't pay them any heed one way or another. But, as Pascal would say, it was best not wager souls on anything, just in case they did exist. 

 

He had no address in Hollywood, so he made up some address from a road he half remembered. "73 Holland Road" he said, "named after some Dutch puritans, I think. God I hate the Dutch."

 

Maybe the devil would react to the twang of mentioning God?

 

"How much for the drugs?" he asked. "And could you direct me to the nearest bar? Its been a long night and I fancy a drink and a woman. A man has to indulge his vices, you know, or they aren't vices at all."

[Poncho]

(GM Post)

 

"...Six Hundred and Sixty six...wow." Ronove said, clearly quite pleased. "Certainly we'll provide you with that many boxes. Shipped as requested." he smiled.

 

"The Dutch, eh? Can't say I'm a big fan. It's those windmills of theirs. Don't like them at all." he shook his head. "Keep them away from me, even if they're very prominent." 

 

"As for the money, ah, well, that'd be..." He gave some number. It was an expensive number, but not an unpayable one; his goal was trying to send Joy out to Hollywood, so he was willing to sell at a loss; after all, the money meant little to him. Luther could pay it, if he really wanted to.

 

And finally, he gesutred to Zander. "Go ahead and take him out. He said, and Zander nodded, leading Luther outside of the building.

 

And Luther realized he was at LAX; hidden in a building off the runway looking like a warehouse. He could see the terminal in the distance.

 

"Alright, Eric." Zander said. "How about we go get a drink then, you don't want to have to walk all the way over to the terminal, do you?"