Where the hell am I? [Mylee/Semper]

In an alleyway in broad daylight lays a man, not dead, very much alive, laying on his front with tangled dread locks. Not snoring loudly at all, no he's not a snorer, he's just breathing. He's face down on the cold hard floor, hands at his side, dreadlocks in his face, dirty, tangled and just not presentable. He's wearing dirty clothes, muddy and damp from the night before. But how did he get there? How is he in such a state? Even at that moment while the cold breeze makes him shiver slightly his brain still refuses to get him to wake up. He can wake up, but he just won't. How did he get there?


The previous night

It had all been just a bit of fun for Kenneth, that's all it had supposed to have been, just a bit of the regular norm and fun. First the young man start the day doing his regular, he stole some cash from an elderly man, he seemed pretty wealthy and Kenneth really needed the cash if he wanted to be able to buy the morphling from the usual dealers he bought from because that stuff wasn't too expensive but for a man like Kenneth (no job, no normal source of income) getting the killer substance would be pretty difficult, no very difficult. But that's where his 'unstable' source of income came in, he would pickpocket people, he was an expert at it at this point, now it was like breathing, do it everyday because you have to.

After that Kenneth took the cash and went to the usual alleyway where no peacekeepers ever went, probably because it stunk of drugs and piss in there. The alleyway wasn't dark as this was in the afternoon but it was by no means cheerful, even by the drug addict's standards, and that was saying something. The floor was hard and slightly damp, the bricks were cracked and chipped, almost as if a little bit of force could break them down, almost as if a skinny, wasted away guy like Kenneth could tear the bricks apart one by one with his bare hands.

So the young man casually approached the two men, money in his pockets, hands buried in there and a clear look on his unfocused eyes. He focused his eyes as best he could and stared at the two big looking men who could easily kick Kenneth's ass in a second. But ain't not intimidated, it's just a simple deal. Kenneth had gone through simple transactions like this more times than anyone could count in his teenage years. All Drug Dealers needed to be strong in case someone tried to get away with stealing or not paying, but Kenneth could pay, he wasn't stupid.

"My man, y'know what I'm lookin for. Morphling tablets." Kenneth says to him with a straight face and slaps his hand and the other big man gives him the packet of tablets. Kenneth gives a quick nod, spuds the guy one more time and leaves. I am going to get fucked up tonight for sure! With a huge grin on his face he pockets the pills and leaves the depressing alleyway.

Later that night it was all a blur, all of it. Kenneth couldn't remember most of it, he only remembered taking a bunch of morphling pills and being out on the streets late at night, and then he remembered taking the pills with a bunch of other girls who were always on the streets and a lot of hallucinations, but all he knew is that he had one hell of a good time that night. He couldn't remember a lot of it however but the memories returned, the memories always returned to the young man, if he had a good night out more often than not he would remember it.


That morning

Now in a completely different alleyway lays a young man, african-american, dark skin and tangled black dread locks. Shivering slightly in his sleep due to the cold breeze and dirty and damp clothes and he still will not get up, just laying face flat on the floor, breathing ever so slightly, not snoring no. He's laying there because of one crazy night out.

Oh and it involved morphling.

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WC: 744