Frank Sliver never considered it 'Lacing' unless somebody died. Up until that occurred he called it 'cutting' as he felt the word had less stigma. Upon arrival to the robust city of Kuja he would make one visit to his friend Arlo, prior to delivering the 5 ounces of high grade cocaine. Once there he would cut the cocaine with whatever substance was handed to him by his friend Arlo. Little did he know his friend Arlo had been a very bad boy. Arlo had been sleeping with his plugs steady girlfriend, his plug wasn't necessarily as strong as Arlo, but once the plug found out he decided to teach his long time and faithful customer Arlo a lesson he would never forget. Instead of giving Arlo the usual Cocaine substitute He instead sold him Strychnine, A deadly substance that is found in certain types of rat poison Believing that it would kill Arlo and the plugs problems would go away.
Frankie was 'cutting' the powdered concoction while Arlo was sprawled on his stained velvet couch, ashing his cigarette into a 3 day old Coffee.
"C'mon Frank let's cut two ounces this time, we've been getting away with one for over a month now."
"Easy for you to say, if my client gets one whiff of me being inauthentic they'll send me back to my bosses in a cardboard box."
"These so called 'drug lords' that only buy...what?..5 ounces a week? And you think they'll have the balls to do that to you? No. Worse you'll get is a firm handshake and a warm goodbye because they wont fucking know that you had cut their white."
"I'm not doing it, now keep it down I think they're calling...hey whatsup man?"
Frank took his call out onto the veranda, and shut the ranch slider behind him, and listened closely for what the client had to say.
"Drops in half an hour out the back of Alhambra's Night Club in Santerberg's, give the bouncer the name 'River Rat' and he'll let you out back."
Frank began to say thank you but was cut off as the line disengaged. He took one long last look at the filthy river that ran parallel to the Northern Ends apartments and remembered when it once ran clear when Arlo and himself were kids.
One Smooth Deal later...
Frank hopped back into his Truck and lit up a Cigar. It was partly tradition after a Deal, and partly to calm his nerves, as he was never a good liar. 'One last stop' he thought as he started his Truck and headed for Arlo's Apartment.
"Frank-ay! How'd it go man? No lost limbs? No appendages forever taken? You got all your teeth? See what'd I tell you man, two ounces is nothing! Now we got-"
"You could at least let me in and shut the door before you start blabbering on you clown!"
"Oh! Sorry."
Frank planted himself on the stained velvet couch and rested his feet on the Den Table. For a moment he watched what was playing on TV until he realised it was some old 80s anime.
"How can you watch this shit? It's a cartoon."
Arlo shook his head as he sat on the other couch.
"Nah man it's actually pretty darn good once you get into it."
"If you say so man...so where is the coke?"
Arlo withdrew his wallet from his pocket and opened it.
"I sold your half..."
"You what?!"
"...and bought 3 grams of your favourite thing."
Arlo tossed a baggie of Crystal Meth onto Frank's lap.
"How did you sell it so quickly?"
"Frank please, this whole building is full of drug addicts. You got Mikey next door, he was a Real Estate broker in the 70s and 80s. Then you've got Murdeep across the hall, he works in a Kitchen for 8 hours 7 days a week he's got to be tweaking. Oh and how could I forget Margery-"
"I get the point Arlo. Do you still have a vessel?"
Without saying a word Arlo opened up a couch side cabinet and opened a jar which held a satchel, inside the satchel was a Glass Crack Pipe or as indulgers call it; a Vessel. Arlo handed it to Frank who began heating it up with a lighter.
"Hey, hey! Not in here buddy, I already lost my bond when I put my fist through the wall but if the owners swab the walls and find Meth residue I'm going back to Rehab or even worse Prison. Take it out on the deck."
Frank semi-laughed then stood.
"Alright, don't have to tell me twice."
What Frankie knew was that in about T-minus 25 seconds he was going to be higher than the Eiffel tower. What he didn't know was that his Clients Shooters were knocking door to door working their way up Arlo's building. You see, it just so happened that his client's name was Allister Reign, A feared Crime lord that worked primarily in prostitution, racketeering and to a very small scale but never directly the dealing of cocaine. Moments after Frank delivered the 5 ounces. Allister took a lucky or unlucky dive into them, testing out ounce after ounce until finally; as he was contempt with their quality, offered a line to his partner Celine who snorted a long line from the final laced ounce. She started foaming at the mouth and fell face first in the glass table breaking its infrastructure. Allister sent two of his best men to Hunt Frank, they were unsuccessful in finding him outside the Nightclub but were able to spot his vehicle and follow him to Arlo's building.
Frank inhaled one sweet cloud of relief and blew the vapour out into the cool night sky. When there was a knock at the door. Arlo stood to his feet, casually walked over to the ranch slider, shut the curtains to hide Frank. Swept the crumbs of weed off his table, hid his bong behind the couch then peeped through the peep hole.
"Yo! Who is it?"
"Special delivery for room 38, regards of Mr. Reign"
Arlo was somewhat confused but opened the door. Two of the biggest men he had ever seen stepped inside both wearing an all black Dress-Smart attire. One of them asked:
"You ran into Frank Sliver? Seen him trawling these halls? About yea high, Grey hoodie, black pants?"
"What are you two? Cops?"
The henchman that was yet to say a word stuffed his Desert eagle down Arlo's throat.
"You want to die for this punk?"
Frankie peered from between the curtains at his friend who was being interrogated by the two apes. Then he remembered the Glock 45. He had tucked in the front of his Jean's. He gripped the handle of said firearm and raised its sights to the Bald head of the one who had his Desert Eagle jammed in Arlo's mouth. But he knew he could not fire without Arlo's life coming to a halt. So instead he waited.
"How about you let us search the place? Make a sound, we blow out your kneecaps. Try to escape we blow out your kneecaps. Capesh?"
Mr. Desert Eagle slid the barrel of his weapon out of Arlo's mouth and started out by checking the bedroom, and ensuite while the other kept guard of both the door, and Arlo.
"Any luck?" one henchmen asked the other.
"No."
"Maybe he was just being a smart ass?"
"Maybe."
"Hey, might want to search that Veranda, that's the last place he could be hiding."
Frankie felt his pulse raise as he heard the large mans steps near the open ranch slider. He tried to think of a plan but had no time to. A soon as the henchman spread the curtains, Frank shot him twice between the eyes to which the man slumped backwards, leaving a crimson puddle on the already stained carpet. The remaining henchman shot blindly at the curtains, giving Arlo a chance to escape down the hall. Frank looked over the balcony, he could either drop down a story or try climb up. He decided to drop down but as he was doing so was shot once in the shoulder. He ran through the bottom apartment leaking blood as he went, the women in the apartment was on the phone to what was probably the Police. He shoulder barged the door off its hinge then flue down the stairs case as quick as he could.
This night had gone to shit, but he knew what his mission was: Escape Kuja