Plans for the future

A few nights after meeting Cyd, Lawrence was feeling comfortable once again. The profits from only a couple of raves had been more than enough to get back some of what was lost with the third den.
He could finally pay the cleaner cooks with actual creds instead of free product and empty promises.
Of his partner, he had heard little. A messenger had been sent to tell him that Micheal was still waiting for the sale to go through, though a quick call would probably reveal the man high off his ass or enjoying whatever dark luxuries the man hid from public eyes.
Hendrix had proven to be of more use, their last meeting ending on good terms. The plan was simple, while he would use the raves to sell, Hendrix would find who else sold there.
From there, it was a simple game of elimination.
With much of his recent grief being resolved, he could now focus on the biggest pain in his side.
The damned vial.
Except now it was a small box filled with them.
More than one of his underlings had been thrashed for “wasting his time” trying to decode this liquid mystery.
Even after several chemically driven nights he had come no closer to cracking it. So a message had gone to Micheal, to find out anything that could help.
Until his reply, all Lawrence could do was get another hit and focus on the surface world.

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