Chapter 368 Drugs
"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"
Just as they reached the entrance, a few thugs blocked Parker's way.
"I'm Parker. I'm here to see Rooster," Parker said, forcing a smile.
"Parker, huh?" One of the thugs recognized him. "Rooster told us about you. Head straight to Room 2 when you get inside."
He glanced at the three students behind Parker, a smirk forming on his lips.
"Alright." Parker took a deep breath and led Noah and the others into the skating rink.
The rink was chaotic, with colorful lights flashing everywhere, creating a dim atmosphere. A large area was filled with people skating, some in school uniforms, looking like students, while others had dyed hair and a carefree attitude. Most of them were young.
On the other side, there were several rooms labeled 1, 2, and 3. The air conditioning made the place a bit chilly, and Noah tightened his jacket as he looked towards Room 2.
Just then, the door to Room 2 opened, and a student walked out. He was wearing a red school uniform, around eighteen years old, with a dazed look in his eyes. He staggered as if drunk, with a bit of foam at the corner of his mouth, and walked past Noah.
He acted a lot like Indigo, whom Noah had seen last night at Old Memories.
"Noah, that uniform is from Horizon High School," Parker whispered after glancing at the student.
Noah nodded, frowning slightly as he followed Parker into Room 2.
Room 2 was spacious, with a desk in the middle. A man sat in a chair with his legs propped up on the desk, looking very relaxed. He had bright red, spiky hair, wore denim, had earrings, and a dark complexion. This must be Rooster, the man Parker mentioned.
On the desk were bags of white powder piled up.
Around the room stood five or six thugs holding iron rods and steel pipes, their faces expressionless. In front of the desk, four students in red uniforms from Horizon High School were kneeling.
"Finally," Rooster grinned as he saw Parker enter. "Did you bring them?"
"Yeah," Parker replied, looking at the three students behind him. "They're all seniors, and their families are pretty wealthy."
"Good job," Rooster said, licking his lips as he eyed the three students. "You'll be well rewarded once this is done."
"Thanks, Rooster!" Parker said, looking thrilled.
"Rooster, let me have just one hit! Just one!" Suddenly, one of the kneeling students jumped up and rushed towards the desk, eyes fixed on the white powder, his right hand reaching out quickly.
Before his hand could touch the desk, however, an iron rod came down hard on it. The student's hand turned red, and the bone seemed to crack, sending waves of pain through him.
He clutched his hand, rolling on the ground, his face pale as he screamed in agony.
"Kids these days," Rooster said, holding the iron rod and sneering at the student. "This is a money-driven world. A hundred grand a bag! No moeny, no hit!"
"My dad will be here soon! He's got money; he's the editor-in-chief of the newspaper. He'll pay you!" the student pleaded. "Rooster, I need it now. Just one hit, I promise you'll get your money! Please!"
The student kept banging his head on the floor, blood starting to seep from his forehead.
"Sorry, kid. I'm a businessman. Money first, then we talk," Rooster said coldly.
The three students from Silverlight City High School were terrified, their dreams of joining Rooster's gang shattered by the harsh reality in front of them.
Noah glanced at the white powder on the desk, realizing it was drugs. Rooster was targeting students from well-off families, getting them hooked to make money off their addiction.
'If someone like Indigo wants to do drugs, that's one thing. He's rich and can afford it,' Noah thought, his eyes turning cold. 'But these students are different. They don't know anything about the real world yet, and Rooster is ruining their lives for profit.'
The door to Room 2 was kicked open. A middle-aged man in a suit and thick glasses rushed in.
"Son!" He immediately saw the student kneeling and banging his head on the floor, running over to hold him. "What's wrong?"
"Dad, give Rooster the money! I need it!" The student grabbed his father's shoulders, his eyes bloodshot, his face twisted in desperation. "Hurry! Give Rooster a hundred grand! I can't take it anymore. If I don't get a hit, I'm going to die!"
"How much have you taken?" Tears streamed down the man's face. His son had always been a bit rebellious, hanging out with the wrong crowd, but who wasn't rebellious at that age? Now, it had led to this—a drug addiction.
Why did it have to come to this?
His heart breaking, the man turned to Rooster, pleading, "Rooster, please let my son have a hit. I'm begging you!"
"Sure. A hundred grand," Rooster said flatly.
"A hundred?" The man stammered, "Rooster, I don't have that kind of money. I've already spent five hundred grand on your stuff! I really don't have any more!"
"Look, for the fifty grand I've already given you, just let my son have one hit. Just one!" The man started banging his head on the floor too.
"No money?" Rooster frowned. "Terry, you can't be serious. I've looked into your job. You're the editor-in-chief of the Silverlight City Daily. You control sixty percent of the city's media. Big shots are always trying to win you over with gifts and money. Now you're telling me you have no money? Are you kidding me?"
"Rooster, I really don't have any more!" Terry Perez pleaded. "Even though I'm the editor-in-chief, I never take bribes. How could I have money? That five hundred grand was all my savings!"
"No money? Then sell your house, sell your car!" Rooster laughed. "You can't just watch your only son die from withdrawal, can you?"
"Okay, I'll do it! But that takes time!" Terry said. "Rooster, let my son have one hit to ease the craving. I'll get you the money, I promise. Please!"
He banged his head on the floor again.
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