The band was trashing, lying out an even beat, and trying to keep up with each other. The stage was in the center, raised only a foot or two off the dance floor. Old furniture and drapery lay scattered around the stage. Two nights before Shakespeare made a short-lived performance, there were still props and customs left from when the usual audience chased them off stage. The lead singer grabbed Hamlet’s sword and started slashing at the air, forgetting the words to his ballad and screaming a vicious battle cry.
The crowd went wild; some groupies near the front of the stage tore their clothes and cried out, not with words, but with a brutal sex starved wail. Topless, the most desperate love slave, (a black girl with green eyes and hair down to her round back side) forced her way past the bouncers that were not there. The lead singer smiled and slinked toward her, he raised his sword and slashed off her head with brutal effectiveness. Her body fell heavily to the floor, but he leaped to reach her fair, fair head.
Raising his new toy high above his own head he screamed:
The crowd crawled over each over to get to them; the singer pressed a button built into his shoulder and a force field whipped up around the stage, cutting a few of the quicker fan in two. Pot smoke rose in great clouds. The lead singer slipped off his clothes and held the now dead groupie’s body above his head and chucked it into the crowd. It made a nice wet sound as it passed through the field.
“In not out, at last my love a feast.” the crowd was in his bloodied hand.
They tore her apart, ripping at her breasts and ass with their teeth. Everything was the color of blood. A much stronger field surrounded the second level of the venue. The men and women of the crowd could not see the people behind the field, only the band knew about them, and it was for these invisible people they really thrashed. This was a show within the show.
The band was Proposition, and they where psychotic. Their death toll higher than Aids, people would pay a lot to watch them play a crowd, to watch them murder for the love of excess. Their reputation, influence, and fame was so far reaching that no one lifted a finger to stop them. It was the perfect place to make a deal.
Milo brought some customers to the show; they ate steak and drank wine behind the much stronger field. A few were stripping each other down and shooting the hippest trip they could find into each other, to eager to wait for Milo’s supply. He turned to the one man still dressed in the room and smiled.
“Shall we join in?” Milo asked loosening his tie.
“No, no, let them have their fun. The show is just getting good.” The singer was humping the dead girls mouth franticly. He pulled out his cock and busted out her teeth with his microphone
“Well let’s break into my supply then and I’ll give you a sample.”
“Lovely.” The man’s name was Mortimer, and he was badly scared from plastic surgery. But who wasn’t? His face was all purple tones of healing fresh. When Milo asked what he had done, he slipped of his shirt to reveal the gills on his chest and neck. Milo often wondered how many of his customers where still human. The mass of moving flesh to the right of him certainly didn’t look human.
He spotted a girl that was blue from head to toe, with great ridges on her back that lead to a strong keen tail. She was amazing; two men fucked her at once.
Milo took two needles from his briefcase.
“This shit is very new, I call it Blast. Would you like a demonstration?” He called it Blast, but he should have called it entropy, it was so good. He was taking five shoots a day, and this was number six.
Mortimer smiled like a hard on. The only surgical modification Milo had was in his shooting arm; it was called a Gamma Flitter. It cost him three virgin boys, but he never had to worry when he shot something new. It pumped him full of radiation and kept him clean, he never even caught a cold. He didn’t really know how it worked; it was just a black circle that feed right into his veins. But it took his high and slammed it hard across his whole body.
Milo spiked his vein and it was like cumming in his pants. He felt a cold shiver drip down his arm and into his blood stream. Mortimer waited a second then took his sample, which was a much smaller dose then Milo’s shot. He didn’t know what he was getting into and Milo counted on this. Blast was an invisibility serum with a narcotic side effect. When he started work his only intention was invisibility, but he kept it because of the high, and now he was spreading the word about his new Blast.
The skin around Mortimer’s eyes started to lighten and fade to a translucent yellow. Soon he was just eyes flicking back wildly in a white skull.
“Oh god. Milo is this supposed to happen?” he raised skeleton fingers over his eyes.
“Yes, just enjoy it.”
Milo’s high was different; it started with his arm, and spread to his eyes. He used so much Blast that even his bones disappeared. He was just a suit with a loosened tie sinking into his chair.
The lead singer was covered in blood. Milo didn’t know how but it looked like there was a breech in the stage’s force field. The band was trying to cover the breech with their amps. The lead singer was beating off fans with a guitar.
In cases of extreme emergency the band had an escape pod that would form around the drum set. Because the band was still there Milo knew everything was fine, they could get out anytime they wanted. He glanced over at Mortimer who seemed to have the flow of his high down.
“You want some more don’t you. But it’s not free, for any of you.”
The orgy to his right still paid him little attention; they’d get their money’s worth.
“How much then Milo? For a friend.”
Milo didn’t have any friends, but he smiled like he’d make a deal.
“Show me a thousand and we’ll talk.”
Mortimer was sweating. He opened his briefcase and tried to keep his cool on. It was piled with gold and shining stones.
“I got this from an Egyptian for a pound of coke. What can it get me?”
Milo looked over the stones and whispered the amount of product in his ear. He noticed a few eyes from the orgy turned his way, each deal was different he didn’t want to start with an even price for everyone.
“Is that really enough?”
“This shit is pure as snow, my own creation you know. What you took was cut with adrenaline and K, just to get you used to it. Take a shoot half as big as I gave you and work your way up. Once you have it pure, you wont want anything else.”
Milo watched a hard on form under his pants. He weighed him his sake, and took the gold. He shortchanged him, of course he did. But there was no way Mortimer would ever know, no one else ever did.
He watched as the crowd broke through the field and crashed down on Proposition like a tidal wave. He’d have to find a new freak show to get his customer’s horny. He took one more shot just as the frenzied fans started to feast on the lead singers flesh. The show was just getting started.