2009-10-01: The Face Of Evil



Guest Starring: Sydney as drug dealer Drew Camp

Date: October 1, 2009


Emily begins to play God, one drug dealer at a time.

"The Face of Evil"

The Bronx, outside a greasy all-night diner.

The Bronx, quarter of midnight. "Ohhh, I can't believe I just ate all that!" comments Emily, to nobody in particular, as she steps out of a true New York classic; an honest-to-God 'all-nite' diner. It's one of those long, low, railcar style diners, the kind with the stainless steel that's not cleaned often enough, the guady neon in three different colors, the creaky boot seats, and the greasy but oh-so-satisfying fare 24 hours a day. Call it an urge to explore more than eat, but Emily found herself here late at night, having a cup of knock-your-socks-off coffee and a bagel with schmear, yakking pleasantly enough with the overworked, underpaid waitress. Now she steps out onto the sidewalk in front of the diner, waiting for a bus or taxi to come back. In the cool evening air, she tugs the hem of her plaid 'schoolgirl' skirt down over her stockinged and orange-booted legs, zipping up the orange leather jacket up over her super-loose tie (matching the skirt), and plain white top. Turning the corner around the diner, she gets a peek into the alley behind it.

The alley, is, of course, Drew Camp's legacy. It's his location. His spot. Adorned in black, as if to fade into the night itself, the tall, square-ish twenty-something peers into the dark of the night, scanning the alley constantly for customers (and cops). His shaven and tattooed bald head is his only stand-out feature, particularly as it reflects the bit of light in the alley. Stroking his dark goatee, he peers at Emily as she steps out of the diner. Narrowing his eyes, he tightens his square jaw, creating a kind of hardened boulder appearance. Raising his eyebrows, he tries his luck, it's been a slow night, after all, "Hey. Kid." He nods towards her and then gives her an almost creepy wink, "I can tell you like to party." It is late. And she's out. And she's blonde. Don't all blonde girls like to party? "I got the goods." And then he adds while peering around once again. "If you got the cash." His lips curl up into a sardonic grin. He holds his arms up in laissez-faire fashion, expecting the response he seeks.

She pauses for a moment outside the alley, peering in at him. For a moment, she doesn't give him any particular reaction. Eventually, though, she just breaks into a little sneer. "Oh? Just what're you offering?" she asks without hesitation. As she takes a few steps down into the alley, she pulls out a few folded 100-dollar bills from one of the buckled breast pockets on the front of her jacket. "It'd better be good…" As she strides into the alley, she doesn't seem scared, she doesn't seem hesitant. It looks like she's done this one or ten times before. The boots don't have much of a heel, but she strides to the full extent of her leggy, 5'8" height. The bills disappear after their quick show, and she comes to a stop in front of him, conveniently out of view from the street behind a dumpster, pulling her hair back in a loose, untied ponytail with her as she stands and waits.

The sardonic smile broadens as Emily approaches him. Drew tilts his head slightly, scanning the woman up and down. And then, making a swift decision, reaches into his pocket and extracts a knife. He chuckles and narrows his eyes at the girl, "I have a better idea. How about I take your money, keep the drugs, we have some fun, and then I not kill you?" He reaches forward to grab her.

"You know…that sounds marvelous." As he reaches for her she oddly, strangely, counterintuitively moves toward him. She makes sure her neck is exposed, that her sleeves are rolled up some. She seems to want him to touch her, to get his nasty, grubby hands on her perfect skin.

A little taken aback by the response, Drew pauses to grasp her around her waist. "Crazy. I like 'em crazy," he rasps. As he leans forward to lick her neck.

A twisted smile appears on her lips. It's part evil, part Chesire Cat, part wicked sneer, all at once. "You have no…fucking…idea" she hisses at him through her teeth. As he grips her wrist, leaning in for the lick, she lets her power activate. Instantaneously, her eyes seem to cloud over, the same with his. By coming into contact with her skin, he's given her access to his mind. Faster than a human can blink, Emily allows her consciousness slip from her body and into his mind. It's always an exciting, adrenaline-pumping experience, feeling her personality sliding into his mind, pushing him out of the way, driving him into the deepest parts of his own mind where he can do little but protest uselessly inside his own mind, and watch as she makes him do what she wills. Of course, as his eyes cloud over and then clear up with her consciousness sitting in his body, her own body goes limp in his arms. Her body is still breathing, still in possession of reflexive actions of the brainstem, but it appears to be in a deep coma. "Ohhhh, I love that" she says, though the voice comes from his body, in his voice.

"What the f-" Drew thinks in an attempt to speak, which only enhances his internal agitation. "What the hell is going on here?!" he demands in his own head, unsure of what this woman has done, and is continuing to do to him. "Get the hell outta my head, lady?!"

Her response isn't out loud, but it's still in her own voice, deep in his mind. "No. You be a good boy now, or I'll make sure you stay trapped inside your own mind for as long as you can imagine." She sounds positively chipper as she talks to him inside his own head. Her limp body is in his hands now, and she makes him set her own body down on the ground, sitting it gently on a mostly clean broken-down cardboard box, leaning against the wall, hidden by the dumpster. "Of course, now we've work to do…" she thinks, feeling around in his pockets. It doesn't take long before she finds the little red bags of cocaine deep inside a jacket pocket. "Oh, that's just perfect. Who were you selling to? Little college kids? These are all starter doses."

"Damn you, Lady! Damn you! Like hell am I going to leave you in peace in my body!" Drew's thoughts are loud and demanding.

"Well, no matter." With a smile on his lips, he's just a passenger, as she steers his body back out to the street, looking left and right. The bus stop is about 4 blocks up, and the bus is already coming this way. "Oh…I love these late night buses. They're always on time!" Walking slowly up the street, she makes him start to tear open those baggies, getting a good bit of the drug into his system. Of course, he's not going to have long to enjoy it; about a block up from the restaurant, she just makes him…step out into the street. The bus driver has no shot at all to avoid him or even slow down. Reports will later talk about how gruesome the sight is, but they'll also talk about how he had cocaine in his system, and was rumored to be a pretty big time drug dealer in the community. The reports won't mention how, about a block up from the "accident," a blonde woman exited an alley, brushing off her skirt and straightening the back of it out, grinning like it was Christmas Day.

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