Name: Jonathan Miller
Location: Demon's Run Outpost, NYC Vladeck Houses, Jackson Street
Faction: Demon's Run
Affected RPers: N/A

And then in comes this asshole, right when I'm trying to program the DVR. Doesn't bother knocking, waltzes down the stone steps with his big black cap, puffy jacket, and ripped jeans, walking into my temporary living cellar area like he's King S***. Meanwhile, his four goon with rhinestone pistols follow him around like little children following their mommy. Like this was some kind of joke. He then looks around my empty marijuana garden like this is some kind of disappointment candyland. What a prick.

"Damn, man, where the hell 'em goods, huh?" He asks, probably high off of his own product.

"'Cuatro,' I take it?" I ask him by his gang name, knowing he was the only one supposed to pick up today. "This your first time dealing in product?"

"Hell no, man," he shrugs like the two-bit douche-canoe he is. "Been doin' this fora daamn long time."

"Then start acting like it," I growl at him. "For your info and so you don't make this same stupid mistake again, I don't hold inventory for damn good reasons, because I swear every night one of these places gets a SWAT team busting into it because some drunken bitch got shot by her plastered boyfriend. Orders are made on demand thirty minutes in advance, no questions asked. You show up late, then you can sit around and wait outside because I burned your first batch and have to charge you an extra 50% for having to create a second one. If that's too much for you to understand, I'd recommend you try working a goddamn food truck instead."

He sucks his teeth at me in disgust like the tool he is. Meanwhile, I get his wrapped packages of marijuana, put them in a cardboard box, tape it shut, and drop it at his feet. Then, one of his goons presents me with the duffle bag of bundled Benjamins. I unzip it, make sure everything's there and the $100K is accounted for, and well, at least he understood how this part works and didn't try to con me with some god-forsaken counterfeit Monopoly money like one asshole tried to do.

"Why do-ya gotta be like that, man?" Cuatro shrugs. "Ya know I'm good. I jus' haven't dealt wit' the one dey call 'da plant man' before."

"Don't ever call me that again or I'll rip out your tongue and stuff it down the steaming crater you call your ass," I told him, cringing about how stupid something like 'Da Plant Man' sounded to me. "The callsign is 'Night Blossom.' If you can't remember something as simple as that, then I suggest you haul your ass to the closest Huntington Learning Center and get the s***stain you have for brains reeducated. When you buy my product, you don't make the rules, I do. And you tell the people using that name with those pissing mouths of theirs not to call me that either."

"S-sorry, man, I was jus' jokin' an' all," Cuatro apologized. "I won't go messin' wit' ya again, k?"

"Next time you come here, you act like nothing is going down," I advise him. "I don't want to have to relocate because you can't keep these operations in the dark. You get the product, you go to your dealers, and you don't tell them a damn thing about where you got it and who you got it from. You can even ask your pimp if you still don't get it. He'll tell you the same thing I just did."

He simply nodded and then headed out the door with the box. I swore, it was so easy to tell the newbies from people who had some sensibility regarding how to deal in the dark and not make a goddamn show out of it like this was the new f***ing Barnum & Bailey Circus. We don't talk, we don't stand out, everything is passed in cardboard boxes or cheap bags and we go on our way. That's it. These transactions aren't even supposed to take more than a minute and if he did this right, he would have been gone and out the door ten minutes ago and back in the streets with a decent head start.

I turned back to the DVR and figured I had enough for next week's programming. Meanwhile, after switching to the local news, they were talking about the Demon's Run "terrorist threat" on television. Ah yes, this whole mess of a video I had no part in. Well, the truth was I needed Demon's Run and they needed me. 30% of my operations funded theirs. Truth was, we needed the Foraminis vaccine eliminated. Clueless idiots that knew me as a Foram asked me why I cared if I already realized my own powers, but the truth was if they were willing to prevent Forams like they were in a fever rush to do it, they would be willing to kill the ones that were already alive in due time. Meanwhile, if the cops were more focused on Demon's Run blowing up a medical shipment truck with Foraminis vaccines, there would be less scrutiny on the drug dealing and it would be the middle finger to de Blasio.

Of course, I figured they would be asking for more than just money in due time. All I could respond with that for the moment was "it depends." I don't make promises before I know all the details.