found drama

You’ve gone undercover to try to take down a local gang that’s selling drugs in your community. (Think classic 1970s motorcycle gang, not The Wire-era Baltimore street gang.) You’re fairly certain they’re responsible for your father’s death — and this is how you’ll seek your vengeance. You have taken your patient time to earn their trust, but you still don’t have the evidence you need. The last step (they tell you) is a little initiation ritual. Undeterred, you agree. But it’s quickly evident that you misread the situation. The initiation (they tell you) is that you all take it (something intravenous) together — and that tubing is run from one arm to the next so that you’re all sharing the same blood, the same dose. You’re last (they tell you) and they strap you into a chair so all you can do is helplessly watch as one guy shoots up, attaches himself to the next with needle and tubing, and so on down the line until the last one is staring you down, needle-and-tubing in hand.