The rain had eased to a drizzle by the time I reached my usual spot—a dingy pizzeria tucked in the corner of an alley. The place was a front, like so many others in Greyfield, but it served its purpose. I slid into a booth near the back, where Fred would meet me.
Fred was a fixture of the local drug scene. I've never actually asked him his real name. To be honest, I've never cared. He was just Fred. He was a wiry man in his early fifties with a perpetual five o'clock shadow and easy-going demeanor. Your typical stoner. He appeared in the dim light of the pizzeria, his face half-hidden beneath the brim of a worn baseball cap. Sliding into the booth across from me, he greeted me with a nod and a thin smile.
"Hey, Lux. What's up?" Fred's voice was gruff. Years of bong rips have clearly made their mark on his vocal chords.
"Hi, Fred." I shifted in my seat, my fingers tapping impatiently on the table. "I need to pick up a few things. Same as usual—weed, percs, and whatever else you got left over."
Fred raised an eyebrow. "You're getting braver, coming out in this weather. What's the rush?"
I shrugged, casually. "Just got a lot on my mind. I'm looking for something new, something that'll take me somewhere different. I heard about this new drug called Nebula. You know anything about it?"
Fred's expression darkened slightly. "Nebula? I've heard stories… Bad ones. People who use it, they don't always come back the same."
Fred glanced around, his gaze cautious. "You know how it is. When something's that powerful, people get lost in it."
I kept my eyes fixed on him, sensing there was more to his words. "It can't be any worse than what's already on the streets."
Fred shifted uncomfortably. "Look, I'm not trying to scare you off. Just… be careful. I don't sell it, and I don't know anyone up here in the streets that does. You'll have to go to the Black Vault to find some. You're better of sticking with the usual."
"The Black Vault?" I asked, a spark of curiosity igniting. "What's that?"
Fred's face grew serious. "The underground black market... its a maze of shady fuckers and dangerous assholes."
I crossed my arms, giving Fred a skeptical look. "Where exactly did you get this information? It sounds made up."
Fred smirked, unfazed by my doubt. "Made up? Come on. You've been on these streets for years, right? Always got your ear to the ground?"
"Yeah," I shot back, "and if there was a secret underground market, I would've heard about it by now. This Vault you're talking about—it sounds like some urban legend."
Fred's grin widened as he leaned in, lowering his voice like he was sharing a precious secret. "That's the thing, the Vault isn't some open market anyone can stumble into."
I crossed my arms, still not buying it. "Why are you telling me about it then? I've known you for years, and suddenly there's this underground market I'm supposed to believe exists?"
Fred chuckled softly, his face twisting into something between amusement and annoyance. "I didn't bring it up before because it wasn't relevant. You never asked. Besides, it's not the kind of place you go shouting about."
I frowned. "And now?"
Fred leaned back in his seat, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Now? Now, I'm getting out of the harder shit. Just gonna stick to weed. Pills, powders—they come with too much heat. There's too much competition, and things are getting ugly on the streets. Word is, some of the pill and powder pushers up here are getting their asses kicked over territory. The Vault, it ain't just about drugs. It's about control. People are clawing for power down there. It's not a scene I want to be in anymore. I'm getting too old for this shit."
I raised an eyebrow, feeling the skepticism creep in again. "You? Backing down from competition?"
Fred let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "I'm not scared. But I'm smart. I've been doing this long enough to know when the tides are turning. Weed's safe. Everyone wants it, no one fights over it. But the pills? Powder? It's a different game. And the kind of people running the Vault? They play for keeps. People are disappearing. You get in too deep, and they own you."
"I'm bored, Fred," I muttered, leaning back in the booth. "Same old shit, day after day. It's not enough. I need something that takes me somewhere else, something that makes me feel alive again." I looked him dead in the eye. "Nebula? That sounds like the answer."
I was tired. Tired of the same old shit—the same highs, the same streets, the same meaningless hustle. Weed was fine, but it didn't take me anywhere new anymore. Ecstasy had its moments, but even that had lost its edge. I wanted something different. Something more.
He shook his head, his expression grim. "Look, I get it. But it's not worth it."
Fred leaned closer, his voice low and urgent. "I'm telling you this because I don't want to see you get hurt. The Black Vault is no place for someone like you. You've survived this long by keeping your head down and staying smart.... mostly. Don't throw that away by chasing Nebula."
I narrowed my eyes, frustration bubbling up inside me. "Then why the hell did you even tell me about the Black Vault? If you don't want me to go, why bring it up?"
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Because I know you. You'll keep looking until you find what you want. And not everyone's going to look out for you like I do." His gaze softened as he continued. "You'd find out about the Vault eventually. You managed to find out about Nebula and the Vault is the only place I've heard of where Nebula's showing up. I'd rather you know the dangers straight up than wander into them blind. This city's full of people who'd feed you a line of bullshit just to get you in deeper."
Fred's expression darkened again. "You've got the street smarts, but the Vault? It's not just about being tough or savvy. It's about knowing when to play the game and when to fold."
He hesitated, the tension between us thickening as he glanced around, making sure no one was listening. "I've been down there a few times. Didn't prowl around too much, though. Just enough to see what kind of shit was going on and to get some product. It's… a different kind of scene. Not one I want to be associated with."
He leaned even closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "The Black Vault is no place to go aimlessly roaming around."
I snorted, trying to play off his concern. "Oh, come on. You're making it sound like a horror show. Can't be worse than this shithole of a city."
Fred's face hardened. "It is… and I'm getting out of the game before it gets worse."
I considered his warning, but not for long. "How do I get in? I mean, if I wanted to find it…"
Fred sighed heavily, his eyes searching mine as if he was debating whether to even tell me. After a long pause, he leaned in closer, his voice barely a whisper. "If you're dead set on this, there's a way in… but it sure as hell isn't safe."
I raised an eyebrow, my curiosity spiking. "I'm listening."
Fred leaned back and ran a hand over his scruffy face, clearly uncomfortable. "There's a display in the Greyfield War Memorial. The Enigma machine. You ask about it. Real casual, like you're just curious. If you get the right response, they'll know you're looking for the Vault. But it's not just some street market with a backdoor deal. It's… a world you don't know how to navigate."
I scoffed, trying to downplay his warning. "Come on, Fred. You've been there. How bad can it really be?"
Fred's eyes darkened. "Worse than you think. I got in and got out, but not everyone does. There's more at play down there than just drugs. It's power, control. People disappear, and no one asks questions."
I sat back, mulling over his words. I couldn't tell if he was just fucking with me or if the fear in his voice was genuine. Either way, I was hooked. The idea of the Vault felt too tantalizing to ignore. "And the phrase? That's all I need to get in?"
Fred nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, but there's no guarantee you'll even get in. But if you do, don't stay. Get what you need and get out."
I smirked, playing off his warning with my usual bravado. "I've made it this far. I'll be fine."
Fred didn't smile back. Instead, he just stared at me, the weight of his words sinking in deeper than I wanted to admit. "Just… be smart. You've got instincts. Use them. Don't let curiosity get you killed."
He paused, his voice taking on a resigned tone. "At least this way, you'll be a little prepared for what you're walking into."
His concern seemed genuine, but I couldn't ignore the pull of the unknown. I nodded slowly, trying to process his words. "Thanks for the heads-up."
Fred slid a small bag across the table, his expression softening slightly. "Just remember, hot head, some doors are better left unopened."
I smirked, but Fred's eyes were still sharp, studying me. He wasn't finished.
"And speaking of walking into trouble—I've been hearing shit about Stag," he said. "What about him?" I asked.
"Word on the street is he's about to come down hard. I heard he's been buckling down on people, making examples of the ones who owe him. You've been on his radar for a while now."
"Stag?" I scoffed. "I've been dealing with him for years. I know how to play the game. He's a bastard, but I can handle it."
Fred raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. He didn't look too impressed. "Still doing this dance, huh? Thought maybe you'd have paid off what you owe him by now," he said.
I frowned, already knowing where he was going with this. "I'm getting there. Slowly."
Fred sighed, "Stag's not known for his patience."
I shrugged it off, but Fred's words stung. "I've been dealing with him for years. He's not gonna touch me."
Fred's frown deepened, his voice taking on a sharper edge. "Dealing with him? Come on, you know what this is. It's not even your debt. It's your parents' fuckups, and you've been stuck cleaning up their mess for how long now? Stag's just stringing you along."
My jaw clenched. "Yeah, well, what do you expect me to do? He's not gonna just let me walk away."
Fred leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "I'm saying, this shit's been going on for too long. You pay him one favor, and he adds another. It's a trap, Lux. You're never gonna get out from under it if you keep playing games with him. Everything is just a game to you."
I forced a smile, though I could feel the tension crawling up my spine. "I've handled it this long. I'm not my parents. I'll figure it out."
Fred shook his head, the lines in his face deepening as he sighed. "Just don't get cocky. You can't afford to mess this up. Stag's not the same guy he used to be, and you know it."
I leaned back, my arms crossed, trying to keep the frustration at bay. "Fuck off, Fred."
Fred's expression darkened. "You think it's that easy, huh?"
"I know it is. I've handled him plenty of times. This isn't new to me."
He rubbed his temples, clearly frustrated. I loved to give Fred a hard time. It was my own little game. I buy drugs and stress out Fred.
"I know what I'm doing… see ya in a few days."
There was a tense silence before he shook his head, exhaling sharply. He leaned back, like he'd given up trying to convince me.
As he left the pizzeria, I stared at the bag in front of me. The allure of Nebula and the mysteries of The Black Vault tugged at me, a dark curiosity that was hard to shake. Fred's words echoed in my mind as I prepared to leave.
I headed a few streets over where Stag's office was located. The building was a dilapidated warehouse that had seen better days. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of cheap cigars and old leather. Stag was an imposing figure in his late fifties, with a silver beard and a no-nonsense demeanor.
He looked up from behind his desk as I entered, his voice loud, deep, and raspy. "Lux. Just the person I was waiting for."
I tried to keep my voice steady.
"I'm here to settle up."
Stag's eyes narrowed as he leaned back in his chair. "You're a bit late, aren't you? You know the deal—payment was due last week."
"I know," I said, my voice firm despite the pressure. "I'm here now, and I'll make it right. I just need a little more time."
Stag's gaze was unyielding. "A little more time, huh? I've heard that before. You've got until midnight tonight to pay up, or you'll owe more than just money. I'm tired of chasing you around. You're lucky you're half-ass useful."
I clenched my fists, trying to control my frustration. "I'll have it by then. I promise."
Stag's lips curled into a sardonic smile. "Promises are cheap. Midnight is the deadline. Don't fuck with me."
"I understand. I'll be back. I just need a little more time, that's all"
I turned to leave my stomach twisted. If Stag knew I spent the money he fronted for the last heist on more drugs he'd have my head mounted on his wall. This wasn't the first time I'd borrowed from him, and it wasn't just about cash anymore. I'd inherited this mess when my parents died—owing Stag a mountain of debt for the drugs, failed business deals, and heists they'd botched years ago. I wasn't just paying for my mistakes. I was paying for theirs, too.
I've called these streets home my entire life, though I never really felt at home here. My parents were long gone, victims of their own addictions. I learned early on that life in Greyfield meant taking what you needed, whether through wit or sheer force. I quickly became adept at pick pocketing, running minor scams and heists, and immersing myself in the street economy. I'm familiar with the city streets like the back of my hand. But now, the same streets, the same people, and the same risks have started to feel monotonous rather than dangerous.
As I walked, the damp night air clinging to me, Fred's warnings echoed in my mind, each word pressing against me like the walls of this city had been for years. It's a trap, Lux. He wasn't wrong. He was never wrong, but that didn't change the fact that I was stuck. The debt—their debt—had anchored me to this place for as long as I could remember. My parents weren't around to deal with the consequences of their mess anymore. They'd left me holding the bag, drowning in money and time owed to Stag, and the weight of it all had started to choke the life out of me.
Fred called it like he saw it: a trap. One I couldn't break free from. Every time I thought I was close to clawing my way out, Stag would remind me just how deep I was in. Another favor, more interest. And I'd play along, acting like I had any control left in the game. But I didn't. I never did. I'm not my parents. I can handle this. I told myself that over and over, but how long before I was just another addict, just another ghost on these streets?
That's the part that scared me—the idea that maybe I wasn't so different from them. The same desperation that had driven them into the arms of Stag's deals, the same need for escape. Maybe that same desperation was the thing pulling at me now, gnawing at my insides like a hunger I couldn't satisfy.
I passed the cracked, boarded-up storefronts, the familiar sight of discarded needles and broken glass littering the sidewalks. Greyfield, my prison. I knew every corner, every shadow. This place had raised me, hardened me, but now I could feel it closing in. The risks I used to thrive on had become routine, predictable. The hustles weren't dangerous anymore; they were exhausting. It was like I was running in circles, chasing after something that wasn't even there.
Maybe I was like them. Maybe I was just as trapped in this city as they had been. I could never shake it. Every deal I made, every scam I pulled, wasn't for me—it was for them. For what they left behind. And no matter how many times I told myself I was different, that I'd survive, it always came back to this: I wasn't free.
Stag made sure of that. He had me exactly where he wanted me—caught in his web, unable to break loose. And no matter how much I paid him, no matter how many deals I made, there was always more. There's always more with Stag. The sick part was, he didn't even need to chase me down. I'd show up to him, every time, because that's how it worked. You play the game long enough, and you start believing there's no other way to live.
I kicked a loose stone down the sidewalk, the sound of it bouncing off the cracked pavement ringing in the quiet night. What was left for me? The same streets, the same faces, the same fucking hustle day after day. Nothing changed. Nothing would ever change.
Nebula…
The thought of it was like a pulse under my skin, a whisper at the back of my mind. Fred had warned me, and said people didn't come back from it the same. That it was dangerous, that it led people into the Black Vault, where shadows ran deeper than anything on the surface. But wasn't that the point? Wasn't that what I needed? Something new. Something that wasn't this endless cycle of hustling to survive without ever living.
I thought about my parents, about the way they'd fallen apart piece by piece. They wanted something more too. They wanted to escape the weight pressing down on them. And they found it in the bottom of a needle, in the blurry haze of a high that took everything from them. But I wasn't them. I wasn't going to let this city swallow me whole. I wanted control. Real control. The Black Vault, Nebula—it all felt like the way out, even if Fred saw it as a death sentence. Maybe it was. But I couldn't keep doing this, couldn't keep living the same fucking day over and over. Fred said people disappeared down there, in the Vault. That once you were in, you didn't get out.
But what if getting out wasn't what I wanted?
What if I needed to disappear from the person I was, from the life that kept dragging me down?
What if getting lost was the only way to feel alive again?
I pulled my coat tighter around myself as I kept walking, the streets quieter now, more deserted. I'd been surviving for so long, trapped in this pattern, tethered to a life I never wanted. I didn't know what Nebula would bring, but for the first time in years, I felt something stir inside me—hope, fear, excitement. Something. And if the cost of that was too high? If the Vault was as dangerous as Fred said? Well, at least I'd be the one paying for my own mistakes this time. Not theirs.
I needed to see it for myself, to know if this underground world he described was real or just another urban legend meant to scare off the weak. I turned my back on the familiar streets and started toward the museum.
The Greyfield War Memorial was only a few blocks away. The Museum is a 24-hour business, conveniently enough. It accommodates tourists from different time zones. It's also located directly beside the Bar District so a lot of nightlife keeps the money flowing through donations from drunk tourists.
I pushed through the grand entrance of the museum, its heavy stone columns and historical displays a contrast to the world I sought. Inside, the museum was bustling with visitors, lost in the past while I was hunting for a doorway to the present darkness.
Navigating through the exhibits, I scanned the room, looking for the Enigma display Fred had mentioned. Rows of polished glass cases and historical relics lined the museum halls, each labeled neatly, but there was no sign of the infamous machine. I walked the length of the exhibit twice, growing more frustrated with each pass. Of course…. There was no enigma display. That's why Fred had told me to ask about it. It wasn't some regular museum piece—it was a secret, a key, something you had to dig for. I glanced around, spotting a guard near the far end of the hall.
I approached a museum guard, an older man with a stern demeanor. My heart raced as I prepared to speak. I had practiced this line over and over, but the reality of the moment made it all too real. "Can you tell me about the Enigma display?" I asked, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me.
The guard's eyes moved with a hint of recognition. He paused, glancing around to ensure no one else was paying too much attention. With a subtle nod, he motioned towards a side door labeled "Storage - Employees Only".
I followed his silent direction. As I descended the narrow staircase, the chill in the air deepened, and with each step, the polished veneer of the museum faded behind me, replaced by something darker and far more real. How had I never heard of this before? All the years I'd spent on these streets, with my ear to the ground, and this whole other world was right here—hidden in plain sight. It gnawed at me, the thought that something this big, this dangerous, had been sitting right beneath my nose.
The Black Vault wasn't just some underground legend. It was real, and all these years, I'd been hustling for scraps on the surface while something far more powerful lurked just out of reach. The realization hit hard: I'd been blind, and maybe that was exactly how they wanted it.
At the bottom, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. The Black Vault sprawled before me, a neon-lit maze of activity and shadows. The hum of underground commerce and the haze of illicit transactions created a vivid contrast to the orderly museum above. If Nebula was here, I was determined to find it.
The Vault was a sprawling underground maze that was almost the typical image of a secret black market. The air was heavy with the musty scent of old concrete and dampness.
The place was eerily reminiscent of a mall, but not the polished, gleaming kind you'd find in the daylight. The walls were lined with aged, grime-streaked tiles, and the ceilings were low, sagging in places. Despite its grimy appearance, The Black Vault buzzed with activity. Crowds shuffled through narrow aisles, their faces hidden behind a mix of masks and hoods.
Stalls and shops were set up with a casual, almost disorganized charm. Each one showcased its own brand of illicit wares, from exotic drugs to contraband. I was struck by the casual openness of it all—no one seemed to hide what they were selling, and the transactions occurred with an air of normalcy that felt almost surreal given the nature of the goods.
In one corner, a vendor offered an assortment of chemicals with labels that were both cryptic and intriguing. Nearby, another stall displayed an array of different pills. Prostitution was a given. Women with their tits out were standing around, grasping at men to line their pockets. The cacophony of voices, the hum of fluorescent lights struggling to stay lit, and the occasional burst of laughter or shouting from patrons created a backdrop of chaotic normalcy.
I navigated through the crowd, taking in the variety of offerings. The Black Vault operated with confidence, its dwellers moving with an ease that spoke of long-established routines. The atmosphere was thick with a mix of excitement and danger, but there was a disconcerting familiarity to it all, as though I had stumbled into an underground society that had its own set of rules and rhythms.
As I made my way through the dimly lit aisles toward the pill peddler, hoping for easy access to Nebula, I bumped into Marla. She was a blast from my past, and her presence here caught me off guard. Dressed in a striking dominatrix outfit that left little to the imagination, she looked both surprised and concerned.
"Lux? What the hell are you doing here?" Marla's voice was a mix of shock and disbelief. Her eyes widened as she took me in, clearly struggling to reconcile my presence with the setting.
I offered a wry smile. "Hey, Mar. Just… exploring. I'm looking for some Nebula."
Marla's face darkened, and she stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Nebula? That's a hell of a drug. You should be careful. It's incredibly potent. A lot of my men take Nebula before getting their cocks locked. It makes their cum shots something I need to start keeping record of. Are you sure you wanna be messing around with something like that? I mean… go get it girl but I've seen people get lost in it."
I nodded, feeling a chill at her warning. "I heard it's intense. But I need to find it. Any idea where I might start?"
Marla's expression softened slightly, but her concern was palpable. "Even if you find it, you should know that it's not cheap. And money isn't used down here as freely. The Vault runs mostly on bartering and trading. Time, goods, services—that's what you'll need to get most things done."
I frowned, trying to process her advice. Feeling the weed and pills in my coat pocket, I questioned her. "So, what do I do if I don't have anything to trade?"
Marla gave me a sympathetic look. "You'll have to find something valuable to offer or someone who can vouch for you. It's a different world down here, and you'll need to adapt quickly if you want to navigate it."
I took her words to heart, feeling a mix of apprehension and determination. "Thanks for the heads-up, Mar."
She nodded, glancing around as if to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "Be careful, and don't get too caught up in the lure of Nebula. It's not worth losing yourself." Her eyes glanced back to me, softening for a moment before she straightened up, brushing invisible dust off her dominatrix outfit. "Look, I'd love to catch up more, but I've got a client to meet in a few minutes. You know how it is." She flashed a sly smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "We'll talk later." With that, she disappeared into the crowd, leaving me with her warning still hanging in the air.