Mainstream Deviation

MAINSTREAM DEVIATION

Title: The Mainstream Beat (Sex Candy)
Genre: Sci-Fi, Drama
Ratings: NC-17 (you’ll see some this chapter)
Warnings: Date-rape drugs, kidnapping
Disclaimer: Mine *sniffs arrogantly*

CHAPTER THREE:
SEX CANDY

The rest of the long night passed at a crawling snail’s pace for the poor, young Haru as he lay in his dark apartment. Downy pillows were soft under his troubled young head and the thick comforter kept the wintry cold away from his tiny frame. Despite his most valiant efforts to catch the coat-tails of restful slumber, the fickle lady continued to elude him. To be sure it was an infuriating game for the clearly exhausted young singer wrapped up in his bed wanting only to sleep and forget the mystery-man from earlier that very same evening. He wanted to forget that icy blonde hair and that intoxicating skin…wanted to forget the words as dangerous as a finely oiled blade wrapped in the finest of velvet.

Who was this man with a Deviant’s skin and a lethally dark allure, hoarding secrets like a dragon’s treasure? It wasn’t fair damnit! Haru had worked so HARD so carve out a comfortable little niche for himself in the thriving underworld of Mainstream City (which was not an easy feat for an orphan in such a huge metropolis) and now this bastard had to waltz in and plant seeds of doubt. The boy wanted to just roll over and weep openly into his soft pillow over the injustice of it all. He was able to restrain the burgeoning need to sob by sheer willpower alone

Sure, Haru knew he cried more than most men his age ever did (a tender eighteen despite his underage appearance), but it had been at least two months since he had totally broken down and he didn’t want to spoil his record over some dumb stalker. That’s what that guy had to be. A stalker. After all what kind of decent man would walk up a tired performer and start preaching about his deceased parent? It was a predatory tactic and Haru knew it…a way to lure the ‘unsuspecting’ boy into any number of ghastly situations. It was a common thing in the infamous slums.

Mainstreamers may have been the ‘Chosen Race’ but that sure didn’t improve their behaviour one little bit.

Sighing in defeat and realizing he’d never get an ounce of sleep on his own, Haru rose and padded across the thick carpet of his bedroom towards the kitchen. He kept some Morpheum in the cabinet immediately above his second-rate old stove with the grease stains all over the face. His bare toes squished down into the splotchy cream colored carpet that faded away into equally hodge-podge vinyl tiling that had seen far too many years of use in search of the blessed sleep aid.

Haru couldn’t suppress a shiver as his feet left the safe, comforting warmth of the carpet, striking against the cold of air-conditioned tile. The frosty chill bit at his toes and shot clear up his legs, making him feel stiff and even more miserable than before. He tried to make his trip across the kitchen as short as possible, tip-toeing rapidly across the floor until he reached the stove and the cabinets that were in propinquity to it. Making an unhappy little noise, the youth stood up as far as he possibly could, stretching out and looking like a five year old reaching for a cookie jar in the process. His slender hands fumbled about before locating the knob to the cabinet door and jerking it open, quickly pulling out the conical bottle of Morpheum before he fell over from a lack of good balance.

Managing to haul himself back up off the tile, totally chilled to the bone by now and only slipping a little, Haru ran a hand through his own tousled flaxen locks to get them out of his face. After all it wouldn’t do to fall over again because he couldn’t see. His effeminate face screwed up a bit as he read the directions on the bottle, the words blurring together from his fatigue. Shrugging, the boy picked out a dark pink pill and swallowed it, wincing as it caught on his throat from the lack of moisture. Only a little bit of fight had the tiny slice of heaven fully down his esophagus and working on his body, giving him only enough time to stumble over to an overstuffed armchair in the livingroom before he was dead to the world.

Thankfully…blessedly…a side effect of the Morpheum sleep aid drug was a complete inability to dream. For tonight, for this sleep, the wicked nightmares roused by words of the past could only prowl in their cages, mordant and waiting for their chance. The nightmares could only glare caustically at the sleeping psyche that lay before them, unable to reach it for this one evening. Haru slept in peace.

~****~

The dark night passed, taking with it the roaring club crowds of the underworld and the piercing, hot neon lights that lit up the sky like mutant fireflies. The scent of sex and drugs drifted away with the morning breezes, ushuring out the children of darkness for another day. Now the buzzing neon lights were replaced by the glare of sunlight, the thumping music taken over by the growl and honk of cars. Men and women who had dolled up in erotic blacks the evening before now wore the dowdy tweeds of businessmen and career women. The Mainstream City had pulled on its mask of duty once again, hiding its true face of dereliction.

In the middleclass apartment where Haru made his home, the tendrils of broad, midday sunlight eventually found their way in past blinds, curtains, and closed windows. They whispered across the carpet like gossamer serpents, weaving their sinister way towards the youth sleeping still in that overstuffed chair. Unfortunately, said chair faced a window directy from where it was situated against a wall so the sunbeams had a very short trip before they were burning unmercifully at Haru’s legs. Subconsciously Haru managed to squirm away from the unwelcome heat for at least another ten minutes before it reached his eyes, the needle-rays of light squeezing under the lids and burning on his retinas.

At last the boy had no choice but to open his eyes and give up. He played this little game with nature every day and the sweet madame always won, forcing him out of bed or his chair and into wakefulness. As per routine he padded into the bedroom and siezed up a blinking digital clock to check the time of the late morning. The angry red symbols glared out at him, announcing a very late 2 PM. Haru had managed to miss a good half of the day thanks to the Morpheum. Not that sleeping late really ever bothered Haru thanks to his lack of a day job…it just left less time for him to do little mundane things like shopping and laundry. Shopping was the most important right now considering how utterly bare his cabinets were. Starving was a BAD thing.

Haru thought, it was two o clock in the afternoon right now and he had to be at work by eight…that gave him six hours to do as he pleased. That meant a shower, some stale cereal for breakfast, dig out some clothes to wear until showtime, and just enough time to make a leisurely run to the grocery store for some food. Luckily Raoul had gotten his pay from their bastard boss the previous evening before Haru had made his exit so the boy had enough money to decently store up his larders. Yay for eating.

Of course…a strange and unwelcome thought rose unbidden to Haru’s mind as he planned out his day. How much time would he need if he was going to go see that strange man? He would probably want to go before work so he was all clean and nice…and he’d probably want to pull out some clean clothes in that case. Suddenly Haru stopped himself, forcing the train of thought to derail right then and there. This was absurd!! He was NOT going to see that…that…vicious predator! He wasn’t going to allow his firm resolve to be shaken by some petty words about his long deceased parent that came from the mouth of a manipulative rich prick! Haru was too emotionally stable to let this get to him…wasn’t he?

Then again…what could it really hurt? If he brought some NeuroGas with him he’d be alright. If this Mr. Rurik decided to get rough Haru could just spray him in the face and escape while the other man was paralyzed. Besides…what if…what if this guy was the real deal? What if he had legitimate information? Could Haru really pass all that up for a little bit of paranoia? It was a clinch decision to be sure.

For a long moment Haru stood frozen in the middle of his bedroom floor in naught but his skivvies, the sunlight warming his back and his feet sinking into the carpet. It was those very same feet that made the decision for him, carrying him across the familiar floor and towards the musky smelling old closet full of mothballs. He kept his best clothes in there, the sort of outfits he wore only for special occasions. The boy had decided that if he was going to go face some rich guy in his home then he might as well look semi-decent in the process. Feh. Haru hadn’t looked semi-decent in nearly ten years so this was practically laughable to him.


The boy almost snorted in humor as he pulled down an outfit he hadn’t seen in years. The pair of slim black slacks that hung low on his hips were still only slightly too long for his legs, giving him an artful, slender appearance. With that there came a soft cotton hybrid shirt in a dark copper color of the longsleeved, button up variety. When he pulled it on he left the cuffs unbuttoned so that they covered half of his palms. That seemed to be an odd fascination with him or at least a fashion preference. Who really knew in the long run. Haru remained barefoot for the moment as he examined himself in the only mirror in the house: a full length mirror that hung precariously from a rusting nail just at the very edge of the closet. For a moment the boy was content in his appearance before he caught sight of his hair.

It wasn’t necessarily BAD hair at all…it could be quite nice and soft when it was well kept. However as of late the ragged layers had taken on a shaggy appearance that wasn’t spiky, but it was definitely scruffy. Luckily, no matter how bad Haru let it get, his hair never seemed to take on that hideous moppish quality that some people’s could when left untended. If he wanted to look good for this evening he’d have to attack the raggedy locks with a brush and lots of soap to make them somewhat presentable.

As he contemplated the necessary steps towards bettering his physical appearance, his doorbell gave a little squeal that sounded like a dying electronic squirrel. The boy winced at the harsh sound and padded out of his bedroom. He might as well answer the door although he couldn’t figure out for the life of him who would be visiting today. Raoul slept like the dead during the day so unless the man was really worried about his well-being. Didn’t seem likely that he’d just barge over without calling though so Haru approached his door with caution, peeping out the tiny circular view-screen before unlocking it and swinging it open. Just a delivery boy.

The uniformed purveyor of delivered goods looked less than pleased with life, idly rambling off some lame speech probably dictated by his employers. When he was done spouting his automoton doggerel he held out a small brown envelope, “Are you Haru Kanzaki?”

Haru shrugged and nodded, “Yeah.”

“Sign here please.” Mr. Delivery boy held out a clipboard with one of those annoying little attatched pens for Haru to sign the release with.

As soon as the singer had finished with his task of signing his name (which was quite hard to do without some solid surface underneath the clipboard) the delivery boy took the board back and was gone before another word could be spoken. What kind of guy hated his job so much that he wouldn’t even stick around for a tip? Haru shook his head and rolled his eyes, musing over what a weird city this really was.

Haru closed the decrepit old door back while reminding himself absently that the stupid thing still needed a paint job. All silly reminders aside, Haru’s pastel violet eyes were drawn towards the envelope in his hands. Who on earth would send him a package? Was it some sort of wild fan? This sort of thing had happened before but usually such expensive delivery services were never employed…and the package was unmarked to boot! Stranger and stranger still…

Deciding that he’d already thrown enough caution to the wind that a little bit of foolishness wouldn’t harm him, Haru opened the package and was pleased to find only a small wrapped candy and a note written in impeccable penmanship. Though the note was quite lovely even unread, the candy drew the most attention out of the whole package. It was a small round thing, like a perfect circle that had been expertly crafted from ruby glass. There was a small almost-nimbus of golden radiance inside of it that sloshed around when Haru moved the candy back and forth. It held him rapt for countless moments until at last he unwrapped the thing carefully from its cellophane skin and popped it into his mouth.

The taste was purely exotic, like a solid drop of foreign fruit syrup rolling around on his tongue. The youth let out a tiny squeak, his eyes going wide at the flavor before walking over to his bed and slumping down on it, his back against the wall. This was amazing! Haru had NEVER encountered a flavor that could make him weak in the knees before and it was delicious as well as mildly frightening.

Pushing feelings of concern and euphoria aside, Haru reached out for the note that had accompanied the candy, unfolding the yellowed parchment paper in order to read it further. The script that depicted the Seal at the top of the archaic stationary was vivid and flowing…although the singer’s blood ran cold when he read the name of the sender, Rurik Maksim. Now Haru couldn’t help but feel a little chilled inside. How on earth did that man know where he lived?

The hands that held the note were shaking now and quite cold, the circulation pumping sluggishly to his extremities. Through the nausea of adrenaline and the haze from the strange candy, Haru read the message. In the same neat, tidy script it read:

“Dearest Mr. Kanzaki,

It occurred to me late yesternight that, although I had invited you to my place of residence, I had failed to divulge the location to you. Ergo, to make up for my massive and rather glaring miscalculation I intend to visit you at your own home in the afternoon or evening of this very day. It seems only civil of me to extend such a gesture. I look forward to seeing you again and should hope that I encounter you with an open mind. Do enjoy the candy.

~From the Offices of Mr. Rurik Maksim.”

The note glared out dangerously from where it sat in his hands, the letters seeming to slither off of the paper like little venemous Ichorwyrms. The edges of the apparently innocuous sheet dug into his hands, feeling like miniature razorblades without actually lacerating. Gods but it hurt! Why did everything hurt so much and feel so funny? His body was hyper-sensitive, every nerve ending working overtime. Haru gasped, feeling like his skin was slowly shrinking around him and lighting aflame in a wildfire of pure feeling. Why did he feel this way, like his body was about to shatter and re-forge itself within its own heat?

Not willing to trust his own feet or shaking legs a second longer, Haru eased himself onto his knees, feeling as thought he carpet would swallow him whole in his sickly euphoric state. His whole world was spinning and even the barest rustle of the crumpled letter beneath his fingers was liken unto a thunderclap. Drowsily, Haru turned his foggy lavender eyes towards the source of the raucous din, his gaze swimming dimly over the spidery text. None of it seemed at all legible to his drugged brain, only a mess of tangled black ink webs crawling across parchment vistas. Only three of the words emblazoned within the verbal skein seemed to have an impact, seemed to make sense…Enjoy the Candy.

Of course! The damn candy! Haru’s sluggish psyche screamed at him, mocking his utter stupidity and taunting his horrible carelessness. That candy had clearly been tampered with and, like a little street-stupid idiot, Haru had popped it into his mouth without a second thought. He should have spat out the wicked little confection the very instant he had known who it was from. By now the drugs were so far into his system that he was surely doomed. He was going to die from a fucking piece of hard candy and it was his own fault. What a pathetic way to go.

*****

Whatever drug it was that had laced the candy was slow working, but of a bitingly intense toxicity. Haru did not die as he had presumed he would at first, but instead a slow paralysis had settled over his body in a living rigor mortis. His flesh still felt tiny and ready to burst like an old chrysalis, burning and smouldering steadily. Haru’s small form ached horribly, from the roots of his hair down to the very tips of his toes and it was a dull, hollow sort of feeling. His half-lidded eyes took in everything, but registered nothing in his state of langour. The breaths that left his mouth were shallow pants that didn’t really give him much air at all, keeping him suspended in the odd zombie state. Haru’s only real thought amidst the jumble of his mind was that he dearly wished the poison would just stop teasing and kill him already if that was really what it intended to achieve in the long run.

The boy swallowed thickly and tried to perk up his ears when he heard the unexpected dull scuffle and audible click of his lock being picked by a deft, expert hand. Another odd little click meant that his front door was being opened by someone who definitely wasn’t welcome. Despite his best efforst to discover his intruder, the paralysis kept a complete hold over his body and mind. Inwardly, Haru groaned as a pair of shiny, polished shoes tread ominously into his impaired line of sight. The voice that accompanied the posh footwear was enough to run the young singer’s blood cold.

“I see that you followed my advice. So tell me Mr. Kanzaki…what did you think of your first Sex Candy?” Rurik Maksim’s voice was filled with dark humor, the tone positively baltic as he surveyed the less-than-responsive youth, “I don’t suppose you liked it very much then. You’ll like it even less very soon. Considering the weight of the dosage I gave you, I trust you’re very close to passing out.”

Haru’s pastel eyes narrowed marginally at Rurik’s feet and as such the desired effect of the glare was lost, “B’st’rd.”

Rurik actually laughed a bit at that, amused by the defiance in the garbled swear word, “Nearly triple the normal dose and you’re still fighting? It is a fortuitous thing that I have drugged you. It will make our little trip so much easier.”

“Tr’p?” It was all that Haru managed to get out before he felt powerful arms hoisting him off of the carpet into a cradlehold, no answer given. Almost totally immoble, Haru hung like a broken marionette with cut strings in Mr. Maksim’s rippling grip. His head lolled back over the arms and his own arms flopped as limp as they could.

The very last thing that Haru was aware of was careful movement and the sudden shock of cold evening air across his superheated, blushing cheeks. He could vaguely hear his door slam somewhere and a car roared to life in what seemed like another world altogether. With that final sharp report of sound, the boy’s fevered brain gave out and allowed him to tumble slowly into a most welcome oblivion.

A/N: Well kids it’s three chapters down and the story has only begun to get interesting! I guess this means that the story is about to get a lot longer from here. Before I bid you guys adieu until next time, I want to give a huge shout-out to my one loyal reviewer, “Redfox\". You are freakin\' awesome and I give you many thanks for stoking my ego ^_^.