The weekend started off no different than usual, me running through the streets half-naked, covered mostly in war paint and singing the Mexican national anthem at the top of my lungs.  This specific Friday night is standing out, perhaps because I was wearing a bit more paint than normal or trying my hardest to sing each verse just a little louder than the last.  It is for this reason perhaps that I did not hear the dark sedan pull up beside me until it was already in view.  Startled, I slowed my running and in turn the car came to a sudden halt, the brakes screeching like an angry four year old.

Seeing myself in the street light reflected in the car's tinted window, it starts to dawn on me just how silly I look.  The idea of trying to set the record for the most PCP ingested in one sitting suddenly starts to seem not as brilliant as it did earlier.  With a soft hum, the nearly black window begins to descend, revealing for the first time a description of the driver.

Female, late 20's, with red hair and striking features.  She is wearing a pair of expensive sunglasses despite the lateness of the hour.  She motions for me to come closer to the car and, as in a trance, I comply without hesitation.  The move allows me to get a better view of the interior of the car and the gun laying in the passenger seat.  "Get in," she barked harshly.  Caught off guard, I could only managed a stammer.  "W-w-what?" I said, knowing full well how stupid I sounded.  "Get in. We need to get you cleaned up before we go out."

"Go out where? Who are you?" I managed to ask.

"You'll find out soon enough," came her curt reply.  "Now get in."  Even before she picked up the gun off the seat, I knew it was pointless to argue.  Besides, I was bored and the drugs were wearing off.  In a move that would impress any Hollywood stuntman, she hits the gas and emergency brake almost simultaneously, sending us into a half-doughnut and reversing our direction back towards my house.  In less than a minute, we come to a stop in my driveway.  "Hurry up and get changed.  We're on a tight schedule."  I managed to give her one awkward questioning glance before resigning to compliance and forcing the car door open.  "Oh, and don't make me come in and get you, either."

Perplexed but still eager to please, I clean up and change into something a bit more casually upscale, unsure of where we were headed.  Climbing back inside the car, I manage to contain my relief that I haven't been killed yet.  I'm not sure that she's actually holding me against my will but I also doubt that the gun is strictly for show.  "That was fast," she said.  "I hope you're not that quick in other matters."  Feeling sheepish and unsure of what else to say, I ask her name.  "Names are something easily forgotten and it wouldn't do to give you my real one anyway. Not for what we're doing. Just call me Lara."

Satisfied that I'm no longer with a complete stranger, I sink into the seat and try to stop seeing triple.  Maybe I got a bad dose or something.  I fade in and out of both caring and consciousness multiple times before the car finally comes to a stop.  "Get out. We're here," Lara said without emotion.  Stepping out of the car once again, I notice that I have the shakes, unsure of whether it's from nerves or the drugs.  Taking a moment to gather myself, I notice that I am standing in the parking lot of a rather seedy looking bar.  "Dick's Joint" is what the sign says, blinking neon and all.  It sounds like one of those places where assless chaps are common.  Definitely not my scene.

Lara strolls over to me and hands me a gun and a red pill.  "Here. Take the pill now. You'll need the gun later."  "What is it?" I ask.  "Does it matter? Stop being a little bitch."  I pop the unknown pill and tuck the Desert Eagle into my waistband.  Lara gives me a slight shove in the direction of the bar.  "Let's get moving. We have a lot to accomplish tonight."  The two of us reach the door and Lara rings the buzzer beside it.  A portion of the door slides away revealing a set of eyes.  The man behind the door pays more attention to me than Lara, apparently knowing her from a previous visit.  "Who's the chump?" he grunts.  "Don't worry, he's cool. He's helping me out tonight."  I wanted to chime in and say something but I thought better of it.  I used to get beat up in school for mouthing off at inappropriate times.  The slide slams shut and the door is unlocked from inside.  Lara turns the handle and steps through.  I take a deep breath and proceed to follow her, wondering what the hell I am doing.

To be continued...