Episode One: "Genetics"

[Belle Hibiki]

The third man's eyes were bloodshot and ticked between them, a scruff of wiry black hair dusting his jaw. He looked down at the table, running his hands over the five large packets delicately. Without a word he pulled a knife from his pocket, sparing another glance at Alex and Martin as he flicked the blade open. The two waited as he punctured the side of the package, a sift of white powder bleeding out. He gathered it on his finger and licked experimentally. A pause. "Yeah. That's the stuff." His eyes moved to them again, squinting. "This Maximillian's? How'd you get your hands on it?"

Alex shrugged. "Took it right off the docks." He shifted to get more comfortable in his seat. "Max usually loses a few on shipping; people scavenging, some getting lost in the shuffle, that sort of thing." He gave the man a crooked smile. "With how many he has shipped, he doesn't miss just five."

The one at the window had turned his head to watch them, his beady eyes fixed Raven-like on the small pile of white powder.

"Took it right off the docks, eh? Why don't I believe that?" The third turned his blade in his fingers, the crimson-veined eyes narrowed. "You think I'm stupid? I know he doesn't have them just laying around where any common fucking pickpocketer can get his hands on them." He rested his elbows on his knees as he hunched over the table, knife held loosely, its powdered tip pointed at them. "Now, I wanna know how you got your hands on this shit, or we're gonna have a problem."

Alex glanced at Martin, who gave a small nod of assent. "We've got a guy on the supply side," Alex said finally, turning to look the blade-wielder in the eyes. "We've known him for a while."

"Max controls everything here," Martin followed on the heels of Alex's words, not giving a chance for the punk to pause in doubt. He pressed his fingers together. "He can't be everywhere, though. There are holes." He paused. "That is, if you know where to look."

Bloodshot sneered. "And you know where."

Alex smirked. "We do."

The guy took a great deal of time to mull that over. He ran his hands through his matter black hair, looking down at the powder on the table and then up at them, then back. There was a lot of money there, enough to tempt richer (and smarter) men than Bloodshot, and the possibility of even more. It was as if Alex could see the cogs steadily turning behind the punk's eyes - the relentless spiral towards greed, like a moth to the flame.

Finally Bloodshot looked up.