"Grrrgh! Good... good morning, Miss Planner. And Erica. How nice to see you both. To what do I owe this... gghh... pleasure?" said Black Smoke.

Black Smoke's voice was never particularly pleasant, but he sounded especially rough this morning. It made Erica's skin crawl just hearing it. The man was obviously unwell.

"We wanted to discuss our new business plan!" said Miss Planner, waving her flip phone in front of Black Smoke's face like it might help wake him up. "Is now a good time?"
"Of course, of course! Come on... in."

Black Smoke, pale as paper, held the door to his condo open for Miss Planner and Erica.

And it was utterly filthy!

There were dirty dishes and beer bottles everywhere, as well as stacks of empty pizza boxes, greasy food wrappers, piles of dirty laundry, drug paraphenalia, and a microwave that someone had punched through the front of. It smelled like unwashed male bodies, sweet, suffocating mold, and stale cigarettes. A total disaster site.

Erica had never actually been inside a guy's apartment before. She'd heard stories, of course, of how men lived. Refusing to do laundry until they literally ran out of clothes to wear, not bothering to buy toilet paper, keeping enormous collections of stinky old beer cans, playing video games, that sort of thing. This seemed a whole lot worse than that. This place was like... a garbage heap. And it was where Black Smoke lived.

Miss Planner stepped gingerly through the garbage and litter in the entryway into the condo's dim and gloomy interior. It seemed like she was very familiar with the inside of Black Smoke's condo already. She walked confidently over to the kitchen and pulled out some bottled water from the door of the refrigerator. The sink in there wasn't clean either.

"Let's get started then," continued Miss Planner, sitting on the couch and setting her phone down.
"Mnnnnn... ggrrgh. Gah!"

Black Smoke covered his mouth with a fist and cleared his throat. Erica noticed he was shaking a little.
"Excuse me," he gurgled. "My throat's been... killing me lately. I quit smoking last week... and it's been a little rough. My voice... is shot to hell."

Miss Planner nodded.
"It'll pass. You've been doing great."

This was 'doing great?' He could barely even talk!

Erica tried her best to hide her revulsion, and sat awkwardly down on a tiny folding chair next to the couch, swallowing hard and focusing on her sweet Miss Planner's voice. This whole thing was making her sick. She just wanted it to be over.

"So let's talk business, Black Smoke!" said Miss Planner, rubbing her chin. " Erica wants in, you want her in. But she hasn't decided how much she can commit yet. I think her main question right now is... how safe is her money going to be with these guys? The Teacher of Death is still out of town, so I figured you'd be the one to ask..."

"The Teacher of Death?" asked Erica.

"He's lending his expertise to this little project," explained Miss Planner, looking directly at Black Smoke. "And he's investing quite a bit, too! Which is excellent! The more starting capital, the better!"

"Grgh... hahaha. Yeah. We're lucky the big man wants to... be such a big part of this," croaked Black Smoke. "Anyway... this whole thing came together... by chance, kind of. I ran into some old acquaintances recently. They used to run this little drug manufacturing outfit called the New World of the Mind. The stuff they cooked up, it was... n-next-level."

"It's Streak, Erica! Streak!" said Miss Planner excitedly, clapping her hands. "That's the drug that made the Brotherhood famous! Can you believe it, Erica? We're getting exclusive distribution rights! If this works out, we're going to be rich beyond our wildest dreams!"

Erica nodded slowly, not knowing a single thing about the 'Brotherhood' or the 'New World of the Mind' Miss Planner was blabbing on about, but went along with it regardless because... well, why not. Miss Planner hadn't led her wrong so far.

"Aghhh. Ahem. It's not Streak," interjected Black Smoke. "It's a new drug... a synthetic drug. It's called... ah... Dreamer. Nearly as powerful as Nuke... and much safer. Much cleaner. Less addictive... gghhhh. So, it's pretty much guaranteed to make us tons of money... once we get it on the streets, that is."

"What do you think, Erica? It sounds like such a promising opportunity, doesn't it?" said Miss Planner. "We could probably quadruple our investments in less than a year. I know it seems like the drug market's saturated here in Grandebelle... but there's a lot of money in novelty. This could be huge for everyone involved, really."

Erica nodded hesitantly. She really wanted to say no. But she'd already committed. It wouldn't feel right turning back down, especially when Miss Planner was so excited about all of this.

"Y-yeah. Sounds great," she muttered. "Just one small... ah... question, Black Smoke. I was wondering how we're gonna keep track of all the money that goes in and out. Can we trust these gang members to be honest with us?"

"There are lots of ways... to ensure accountability," said Black Smoke in a wheezy voice. "The most... fundamental... would be the fact if they don't keep their books straight, we'll seize their assets and cut their heads off."

He chuckled darkly. Miss Planner smirked. Erica looked at the floor, embarrassed.

"Okay. Sure. Whatever. As long as our money doesn't get stolen... I guess I don't care," said Erica quietly.

"That’s not going to happen," replied Miss Planner with complete assurance, leaning forward and placing her elbows on the table between them, chin resting in her hand. "This whole operation is going to be monitored by an investment consultant of the highest caliber! I'll be paying for that little expenditure myself, of course. That way things'll be completely transparent and secure."

"Guhhh..." Black Smoke groaned, covering his mouth and wincing in pain. "Ughh."

Erica looked over, concerned. Miss Planner stood up and walked around the back of the couch, placing her hands on Black Smoke's shoulders and rubbing.

"Easy there. Take a deep breath," she cooed. "You've been working too hard lately. You look terrible. How do you feel?"
"Rgh. Awful. And weak. I haven't slept properly since..."

"Yeah. It's okay to admit it," said Miss Planner, leaning in closer, running a hand through Black Smoke's greasy black hair, massaging his neck. "Hang in there. I'm very proud of you."
"My throat... is on fire. Damn it. I want a smoke," whined Black Smoke. "I thought quitting would... would help with the pain... ha... but it's... it's worse."

"You can rest your voice now," Miss Planner murmured. "We'll do something special for dinner, okay? It's going to be my last day at the Tower for a while, so I wanted to celebrate..."
"Grrgh..."

Black Smoke coughed violently. Erica covered her ears and tried to hold in her nausea. Was there something she didn't know about Miss Planner and Black Smoke? It was weird enough being in his filthy apartment, let alone... being around this. They weren't exactly a model boss/employee couple, were they? She looked like a little angel with golden hair, and he looked like he crawled out of a graveyard somewhere!