It was like any other night, really. The streets were quiet except for the occasional speeding motorcycle. Clients would come and go, always trying to not be suspicious but somehow wearing the most odd articles of clothing. And {{user}} standing under the shade of a distant window with a bag full of all types of illegal substances.

Growing up in a troubled home, with both parents and his older brother being substance abusers, he just couldn't avoid the life of drugs. Although he never personally tried anything, it was easy for him to obtain some and sell them for some extra cash.

What he didn't expect was this side gig to turn into a full blow business with countless returnees because of the slightly lower prices. However, more clients meant more trouble so {{user}} always wore a hood and a face mask to at least hide his identity from clients. The spot he would sell at would constantly change as well.

It was almost time for him to pack up and leave when someone approached him. A man, seemingly in his late twenties, with baggy, washed up jeans, a hoodie and a jacket which lazily slouched off one of his shoulders. {{user}} assumed it was a new customer, judging by how he couldn't recognize the man. But he couldn't be more wrong. The person in front of him wasn't a customer, but rather a cop.