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Faust raised his eyebrow interestedly. "Daisuke? You're fighting a girl named Netsubo tonight, aren't you?"

"Yes," answered Daisuke. "I'm terribly nervous... I've heard that she's very good."

"Here," Faust offered, handing him a bottle of pills. "Anti-anxiety medications. They weren't prescribed to you, and they can cause drowziness, but I think they might help... now tell me where I can get some narcotics."

"Takeshi is your best bet. He hangs around here a lot, usually drives by at eleven or so..."

"A boy your age shouldn't know drug pusher's schedules," Faust reprimanded. He sighed. "Listen. Get help, OK? You don't want to end up like me."

"No, sir," the boy said, eyeing Faust's bony frame with disgust and pity.

"Hey, there he is," Daisuke said as a black car with tinted windows drew up. "He's very reliable... it's amazing that the police don't catch him."

The passenger's side window rolled down halfway, and a man who wore suglasses at night peered over the rims at them. "Bad day?" he asked dryly.

"I'm a new client," Faust admitted. "I'd like morphine, but I'm willing to settle for heroin."

The man produced a bag of loose syringes, and something about it set uneasily with Faust. In a world of pre-packaged sterility, he should have been more unwilling to accept such an uncertain product. But he wordlessly handed over some money, retrieving enough of the drug to last him for at least a week. "To be honest," the foreign dealer said in a thick French accent, "I feel bad giving you these. I've seen a lot of addicts, but you look like your time's almost up."

" 'Be you king, or mere street sweeper, everyone dances with the Reaper, ' " said Faust, pocketing the heroin. "You don't sound like your real name is Takeshi."

"Non, I am a Frenchman. And you're from Germany," he said, disapprovingly. "I'd know that evil-sounding accent anywhere."

Faust sighed. "Thanks for the fix." he turned to Daisuke. "We should get to your match. Netsubo's probably getting impatient."

"Hello?" Daisuke called, closely followed by Faust. "Is anyone here? I'm a shaman, and it's my fight tonight..." nervously, he popped some of the pills that Faust had given him.

"I'm a chronic insomniac," Faust shrugged, casually turning and preparing a shot of heroin.

Daisuke oversouled; his spirit was a 2 if Netsubo's was a 10. "3... 2...1.... FIGHT!"

"FIne!" Daisuke squawked. "I give up! Just please don't kill me!!!"

Faust rolled his eyes. Such naivety... how could a person like Daisuke even dream of entering the Shaman Fight?

((I'll be Silva. xd ))

"All right... you, go home," he instucted Daisuke, who complied whimperingly. Not even noticing Faust, he flew away. blaugh (no other way to describe it, lol)

"Good job. That was very quick," Faust said. "Now, that Fang fellow wanted me to look after you... I know you probably resent that, but let's head back to the... building." he'd tried to find another appropriate word, but all the ones he could locate were along the lines of "dump," "shack," and "slum."

Faust wondered how he'd get his "necessary items" into the "crazy shack." He cleared his throat to explain his "medical condition," and almost choked. Eliza! He'd left her in bed, sleeping. Even though he didn't care that she was a little on the thin side, other people could be horribly intolerant of their love. What if Fang had found her?!

Faust breathed a sigh of relief. He shifted, trying to shiver off the adrenaline rush that had quickened his heart rate moments before. "I'm from Leipzig, in East Germany," he said. "And you're Japanese?"