Chapter 27: Paradise Lost (2)

The addict trying to reveal the information was immediately hushed by another, his hand clamping down on his mouth.

One of them, a scraggly-haired man with a wily smirk, spoke up, his heavy accent reminiscent of a New York Accent David remembered from his old world. "I'm Horseshoe, and we don't rat out to fed Omega 6 dogs like you bosos," he declared defiantly.

Billy took the lead in this tense moment, holding the tempting serum up for all to see. "C'mon, I've got the good stuff right here. You sure you don't want any?" he taunted.

Horseshoe immediately countered, "Don't listen to him, guys!" But the desolate expressions on the other addicts' faces showed their wavering loyalty.

Billy noted the discord amongst the group. "Looks like you and your friends aren't on the same page, Horseshoe."

A series of protests erupted among the addicts, their voices overlapping and clashing. "Shut up, Horseshoe, you old clown! We're desperate down here! Can you imagine what we could do with just ten of those?"

Seeing the conflict, Horseshoe gave in. "Okay, okay! I'll give you a name! He's a distributor and part of the Dog Pound," he begrudgingly disclosed.

Billy's eyebrow arched in curiosity. "The Bestiamorph gang?" he mused out loud. He remembered the details about the Dog Pound gang, their origin story was infamous across the city.

The Dog Pound gang members were a group of people who had voluntarily participated in an experiment known as Operation Power. The scientist behind it, Alfred Irving, had given ordinary people a chance to obtain extraordinary power. However, the experiment transformed these individuals into Bestiamorphs human-animal hybrids with canine traits.

The changes varied from person to person, with some gaining minor cosmetic alterations like a tail or dog ears, while others underwent more extreme transformations, their heads resembling that of dogs entirely and taking on dog like personality's.

"That's all I know, man. Now can we get the stuff?" Horseshoe asked, desperation creeping into his voice.

Billy shook his head, keeping his grip tight on the serum. "I need a name, Horseshoe. No name, no treats."

Horseshoe's face twisted in a grimace before he reluctantly spat out a name. "His name's Buster! He's the one who got the whole damn community hooked on this crap!"

Billy tossed the syringe to Horseshoe and his group. They all instantly injected it, hoping to feel their familiar high from the Genesis Serum. Instead, they only felt their withdrawal symptoms disappearing, but none of the euphoria they were so used to.

"Did you actually give these people drugs, Billy?" David asked, a bit shocked.

"No way!" one of the addicts suddenly exclaimed, others chiming in agreement. "What the hell did you give us?"

Billy chuckled, turning to face them. "I'm a hero fed, do you really think I would give you actual drugs? You lot are morons. I gave you something that will help you, cleanse you of those cravings. It's something to help put your lives back on track. But, it's up to you if you want to return to shooting up dope."

Just as Billy finished speaking, one of the addicts lunged at him. However, as if an unseen force had intervened, the man's shoelace suddenly became untied and he tripped over it. Falling flat on his face, the man began to weep on the ground, his tough exterior crumbling under the weight of his own disappointment and the unexpected kindness shown to him by Billy.

David looked at Billy, a little surprised. "Billy, we can't just walk into Dog Pound territory. That's too dangerous. We should hand this over to someone higher up in Omega 6. They can decide how to handle this."

Billy chuckled lightly. "David, this is what field work is about. It's not about handing over information, it's about getting things done. We've got a lead, now we follow it. Besides, we can handle ourselves."

As they traversed the tumultuous streets of the East Side, the air was heavy with despair and lawlessness. Flames from burning cars flickered in the twilight, casting long, unsettling shadows. Gangs roamed freely, their boisterous laughter and coarse banter echoing down the narrow alleyways. Everywhere they looked, evidence of a neighborhood in decline was apparent.

David couldn't help but feel out of place. He was glad he had opted for a nondescript black hoodie and matching pants instead of his Elite Future Academy uniform. It wasn't exactly the type of environment where a school badge would command any respect. In fact, it would more likely make him a target.

Despite the inherent danger of their surroundings, David wasn't particularly concerned about the prospect of being targeted by the local gangs. His main objective was to keep a low profile and avoid any unnecessary conflicts.

Billy, on the other hand, seemed unfazed by the situation, casually inquiring from one group to another about Buster's whereabouts. His fearless demeanor almost bordered on recklessness, as if he was totally indifferent to the inherent risk of their mission.

In an inconspicuous alleyway, David and Billy observed an unassuming building. A guard posted at the entrance granted people entry, a stream of locals coming and going. David deployed his electromagnetic power to pick up electronic signals and eavesdrop on the ongoing conversations within.

"Hey, Retriever! I've got a bone to pick with you! You're hogging all the girls," a disgruntled voice complained.

"Well, it's not my fault that I'm handsome," Retriever replied, amusement evident in his tone.

"You've got the head of a dog, Retriever! You're hardly attractive by human standards!" another voice, presumably Buster's, joined the conversation.

"Yeah, but I'm filthy rich from that new shipment we got, and you shouldn't judge me! You're practically a dog too!" Retriever yelled.

David's eyes flickered towards Billy as he whispered, "I think I found him." His gaze was fixed on the unassuming building.