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Bug

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a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Saviarre

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(Bear with me as I update Bug's profile)

So begins...

Bug's Story

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#, as written by Saviarre
Bug found herself pulled back, and the sudden movement did not sit well with her. "'Ey! Stop! 'm doin' somethin'!" Yeah, she was doing something, alright. Burning her hand to a crisp. She'd feel it later, but not now. Reaching her blistered hand back toward the fire, she again found herself moved. "'Ey! Damnit! I 'ave t' get 'im out!" She looked back to the fire, but the face that was so real to her was no longer there.

Looking around at Catira, Jules and Nespral, she frowned. "'E's gone 'gain... Damnit. I 'ave to get 'im out!" Reaching into the pocket of her hoodie with her uninjured hand, she started searching for something.

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#, as written by Saviarre
Bug entered the bar as discreetly as possible from the side door, having just completed some business in the alley. Her right hand was wrapped in an absurd amount of bandages. Bug, herself, thought it looked ridiculous, but the doctor had insisted. He’d even given her some pain killers. Silly silly man. Playing up the pain, she’d actually traded in the mild pain killers for something actually worth something.

One thing could be said for the horrific burn to her hand
 she didn’t feel like she needed the drugs to escape. Because the pain was doing it for her. Still, her left hand was clutched around her pencil box in her pocket, the box containing her syringe, her heroin, the candle, the spoon
 For now, though, she was remarkably sober. She hadn’t even taken one of the Oxycontin. Rather, Bug was riding the pain high.

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#, as written by Saviarre
Bug turned to look at the one who had spoken to her. “’adn’t realized ‘ey were ‘n accessory,” she mumbled, clutching her hand to her chest as she made her way over to the counter. It may be early in the morning, but she’d been up all night at the hospital. Leaning over the counter slightly, she flagged down the bartender. “’ll ‘ave a pint, ‘f y’don’t mind.”

Removing a small book from the pocket of her hoodie, she bit her lip as she opened it to the front page, the fingers of her uninjured hand moving lightly over the number. Why was she so curious? He’d been dying, he was probably dead now. Cold and lifeless, buried
 she hadn’t even known the man. Why did she care? Looking down at the bandages around her hand, she frowned. Because in her mind, she’d broken her promise. Reaching back into her pocket, she withdrew her phone, debating whether to call
 to check on him
 Slowly, she keyed in the number, but didn’t send the call. Not yet. She needed her drink first.

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#, as written by Saviarre
Bug didn’t even look at JoJo, wondering how he knew about her pencil box when it had been in her pocket the whole time. Still, she took offense to his words and bristled, but didn’t turn to him. Instead, she tilted her head back and drank the entire pint, rather quickly, before coming up for air. With a gasp, she set the glass back down on the counter before stepping away from him. “None y’business,” she muttered. “’S m’own, ‘n I don’t need some strangah tellin’ me m’business.”

Stepping away and moving toward a booth, she stared down at the phone before connecting the call and holding the phone up to her ear. She doubted it would be answered. In fact, she would be surprised if it was. But she had to know. She had to. She’d find out
 and then she’d lose herself into a drug stupor.

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#, as written by Saviarre
Bug had been about to speak into the phone when it was stolen from her and thrown across the room. Immediately, she spun, watching it crash onto the floor across the room. No! She had to know! Moving quickly over to the phone, she crouched down on the floor to pick up the pieces. “Y’broke it!,” she mumbled, so angry she couldn’t even think of what to say. “M’friend is dyin’, ‘n I’m callin’ t’ find out ‘f ‘e’s a’right, ‘n y’broke m’phone!” Looking up at JoJo, there was intense hatred in her eyes. “G’way. Leave m’alone. Who th’ ‘ell d’ya think y’are? What gives y’th’ right t’ judge others? T’ act like yer better’n ‘em all?” Tears sprang to her eyes, and that surprised Bug. She couldn’t remember the last time she cried. “Who th’ fuck y’think y’are?” Standing, pieces of her phone cradled in her hand, she moved toward the door. “Go fuck y’self.”

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#, as written by Saviarre
Bug entered the bar as discreetly as possible from the side door, having just completed some business in the alley. Her right hand was wrapped in an absurd amount of bandages. Bug, herself, thought it looked ridiculous, but the doctor had insisted. He’d even given her some pain killers. Silly silly man. Playing up the pain, she’d actually traded in the mild pain killers for something actually worth something. Of course, when he'd turned his back, she slipped the hospital. Damned if she was going to stick around after he'd been speaking about surgery and grafts. Hell no.

One thing could be said for the horrific burn to her hand
 she didn’t feel like she needed the drugs to escape. Because the pain was doing it for her. Still, her left hand was clutched around her pencil box in her pocket, the box containing her syringe, her heroin, the candle, the spoon
 For now, though, she was remarkably sober. She hadn’t even taken one of the Oxycontin. Rather, Bug was riding the pain high.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Bug
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0.00 INK

#, as written by Saviarre
Bug entered the bar as discreetly as possible from the side door, having just completed some business in the alley. Her right hand was wrapped in an absurd amount of bandages. Bug, herself, thought it looked ridiculous, but the doctor had insisted. He’d even given her some pain killers. Silly silly man. Playing up the pain, she’d actually traded in the mild pain killers for something actually worth something. Of course, when he'd turned his back, she slipped the hospital. Damned if she was going to stick around after he'd been speaking about surgery and grafts. Hell no.

One thing could be said for the horrific burn to her hand
 she didn’t feel like she needed the drugs to escape. Because the pain was doing it for her. Still, her left hand was clutched around her pencil box in her pocket, the box containing her syringe, her heroin, the candle, the spoon
 For now, though, she was remarkably sober. She hadn’t even taken one of the Oxycontin. Rather, Bug was riding the pain high.

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Character Portrait: Bug
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#, as written by Saviarre
Bug was about to tell the stranger who spoke to her to fuck off when her eyes caught the sight of the drug. She’d recognize it anywhere. Her palms itched and her left hand tightened around her pencil case as she stared at it, biting her lip. She knew the small amount of heroin she had on her wouldn’t last long, nor would the pain killers, nor the vial of cocaine. With her hand injured the way it was, it wouldn’t be as easy to make money – ‘gentlemen’ preferred to enjoy women that appeared to be uninjured.

“What’s it cut with?” she asked cautiously, her eyes leaving the heroin only long enough to look up at Samedi’s face briefly. “How pure?”

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#, as written by Saviarre
Bug looked up into the stranger’s face as soon as the heroin was replaced in his pocket. Pure gold? She would never be able to afford anything like that. “E
” she murmured without realizing it. At this point, a hit of anything would be welcomed, and she’d half a mind to dash into the bathroom to prepare a fix of her own stash of heroin
 It was just damned hard to do at the moment, working entirely left handed. Looking around the room, she frowned slightly before looking back at Samedi. “What makes you think I’d be interested?”

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#, as written by Saviarre
Bug stared at the offered bit, eyes wide, biting her lip. Slowly, she licked her lips. Something told her not to trust him, but then again, anyone offering free heroin was not to be trusted. Still, Bug eyed the offered chunk longingly. Reaching a hand out, she nearly took what was offered, but hesitated at the last moment, her hand lingering in the air near the tempting promise of release. Chewing on her bottom lip, she looked back up at him. “What’s the catch? What do you need of me?” She tilted her head, her fingers itching to accept the heroin. She might be an addict, but she wasn’t entirely without limits.

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#, as written by Saviarre
Bug closed her eyes and sucked in a sharp breath as it brushed against her fingers, using every ounce of self control not to snatch the heroin from his hand. Pulling her hand back just slightly, she bit her lip and opened her eyes, looking up at him. “Sounds too good to be true,” she raised an eyebrow suspiciously. The pain emanating from her hand was such that she was actually speaking clearly, enunciating every word instead of her normal speech patterns. By focusing entirely on what she would say, her words and their formation in her mouth, she did not sound normal, even to herself. If anything, she was over-enunciating her words, as if clarity of speech would ease her pain.

“All you want is a promo-girl?” She eyed the brick in front of her. “I can do that. Is it good shit? Good shit sells itself.” She wanted to try it. Badly. Her fingers inched forward and brushed against the heroin. “Can I try it b’fore I make a decision?”

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#, as written by Saviarre
Bug "That's the idea." Samedi cooed. No longer wanting to play waiting games, he pressed the chunk into the young woman's hands and smiled warmly, though to some people it would be chilling at the same time. "Have fun, dear." he said softly. Samedi was rather confident in this particular blend he'd made, as the ecstasy within naturally complemented the effects of the far more potent opiate. Still, there had been that one incident where the young man's body had simply shut down due to total relaxation, but he had been careless. Samedi had a meager amount of confidence in this young woman. Besides, it's not as if the drug was actually any item to him; vast cisterns of it lay brewing in the aforementioned factory, but so long as he maintained a facade of rarity and quality, it would be more than enough to balance out the supply and demand.

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#, as written by Saviarre
Bug closed her fingers around the heroin, sliding her hand into the pocket of her hoodie, touching the pencil case that contained her paraphernalia. Looking up at Samedi, she bit her lip and glanced over toward the bathroom door. “I’ll be right back,” she muttered, and made her way over toward the bathroom. Locking herself in a stall, she awkwardly prepared herself. Setting up the candle one handed wasn’t a problem. Striking the match was a bit difficult. Filling the spoon was also a bit troublesome. Cooking the heroin wasn’t bad, but when it came time to fill the syringe, Bug bit her lip and tried to figure out a way to manage. Finally, holding the handle of the spoon in her mouth, she was able to do it. Lifting her shirt, she found a vein in her hip and went to town.

When she finally stumbled out of the bathroom a good twenty minutes later, she approached Samedi carefully before pulling out a chair and lowering herself slowly. “Wow,” she said softly. “Y’made this?”

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#, as written by Saviarre
Bug wandered into the bar, twitching, her bandaged hand held close to her chest. She needed a fix, and she needed one bad. She had come to the bar in hopes of seeing the man who had given her the heroin the last time she was here. Heroin
 God, she needed it. Rolling her eyes wildly, she looked around, scanning the patrons in the bar as if they might have the cure for her withdrawal. Tapping the fingers of her left hand on her leg, she made her way over to the counter. When in need, alcohol helped soften it, right? Sitting down, she reached into the pocket of her hoodie and felt the crumpled up five she had. It wouldn’t get her far
 but
 it might help. Pulling it out, she laid it on the counter. “As much drunk as this will buy,” she told the bartender, sweat breaking out on her forehead.

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#, as written by Saviarre
Bug looked up at Nikki and smiled as best as she could, lifting a hand to scratch at her eyebrow. “Thanks,” she nodded. “I def’nit’ly need ‘t.” Turning as Drakus approached her, she frowned slightly. “Can I ‘ave a drink, first? ‘m a bit dry mouth’d at th’ moment. I’ll meet y’in th’ alley in five minutes.” Looking up at David, she sighed. "I can do ya after 'im," she muttered, sipping the vodka.

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#, as written by Saviarre
Bug turned to glare at Drakus. “Course I can write. I ain’t dumb. ‘N I never said I’d like it, just ‘at I’d do it.” She bit her lip. “’Ow much is it worth t’ya?” She took a good swallow of vodka and set it down, wiping the back of her good hand across her forehead. Her bandaged hand ached, and she hoped that soon, she would forget about the pain. It would be better with heroin. Much better. When she got some. Oh, where was that guy? What was his name? The heroin guy
 She needed him now. She needed him bad. She was so lost in her own musing, she barely heard David. Turning to him, she raised an eyebrow. “’s not ‘bout types. ‘S bout money.”

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#, as written by Saviarre
Bug
looked David up and down. “No ‘ffense, Sir, but y’don’t look like y’know much ‘bout the way life is f’people like me. Y’may be old, but yer not from m’world.” She lifted the bottle of vodka and took a few swigs, wincing as it burned down her throat. Every bit helped, though. Lifting her hand, she looked at the bandage. “’S no use. I ‘ad a doc look at it already. ‘E said I needed a graft. Ain’t got money f’ ‘at, so I left th’ ‘ospital.” She turned hopefully to David. “What can I do t’ get some pain killers from ya?”

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#, as written by Saviarre
Bug raised an eyebrow to David, skeptical. “Yeah, sure,” she muttered. “God o’ healin’
 right. Not ‘at impressive, yeah?” She slowly began unwinding the bandages, staring at David, challenging him. The bandages fell away, revealing a hand that was missing all skin, the ligaments and tendons showing clearly, the wrist charred, blistered. It had once been a clean wound, but with her lack of medical care, it had started to fester and was definitely infected, pus oozing between her muscles as she moved her hand. “Yeah, not ‘at impressive at all.” She shook her head. “I told ya. ‘S no use. I’m going t’lose it.”

She began fumbling with the bandage to replace it and looked strangely at David. “What do I want painkillers for?” She lifted her hand. “’Cause it fuckin’ hurts!”

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#, as written by Saviarre
Bug wanted to pull her hand away. She didn’t trust doctors. Didn’t trust them at all. But when he said he would pay her if she sat still, she bit her lip and frowned. She needed the money, and at least this wasn’t as degrading as what she had previously had to do in the alley
 and it wasn’t as dangerous. “Money?” she asked to clarify, to ensure that she’d heard him correctly. “F’sittin’ still?” She remained still, allowing him to work on her hand, moving only to drink the vodka., as much as she could as quickly as she could. “Goddamn, be careful,” she muttered. “Fuckin’ hurts.” The vodka wasn’t working as well as she’d like. If she had some heroin
 no
 more specifically
 if she had some of that good heroin
 that bliss in a syringe
 God she wanted that. Bad. She sniffed and lifted her free hand to wipe sweat from her brows. “Can’t ‘elp th’ shakes,” she murmured, chewing her bottom lip as she thought about the guy with the heroin. “’Ow much y’payin’ me f’this?”

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#, as written by Saviarre
Bug stared at the needle longingly, wishing it was what she wanted it to be. She didn’t fight as he injected whatever it was into her hand, even though it hurt horribly. Closing her eyes, expecting a heroin high, she waited
 and waited
 Finally, she opened her eyes and sighed, disappointed. “What was ‘at?”

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