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Gray cement. Rundown buildings. Silence broken by crying, screams or gunshots. Piles of junk adorning the street corners. Depression, decay and despair all rolled up in one bloated package and made real. This wasn't even a city district, not an environment for life. This was a place where even faeries slummed.

Zee looked up into the pale light of the rising sun. It gave little comfort. Instead, the pitiable sphere of light served as a daily reminder of her failures and mishaps. The barely six inches tall figure sitting on a windowsill of an abandoned apartment building was skinny and clad in garb that suggested the position of a teenage gangster: bagging olive trousers with a black tank top. The top left her back bare for the black moth wings that were in tatters and seemingly rendered incapable of flight. Short black hair stuck out from under a shimmering cap knitted of cobweb and pointed ears were heavy with piercings. A tribal tattoo adorned the left side of her delicate face, increasing the menace implied by her hard smile. It was the face of someone who had seen too much to care about it anymore.

The faerie raised her hand to the sun and reached for the last star that still stubbornly kept twinkling. Slowly she closed her fingers to a fist, imagining she was catching the star in her hand like a human would catch a firefly. Eyes fixed on the hand, she lowered it again level with her eyes and opened it. Nothing. Empty. Her palm held only dirt, blackened fingernails and a broken lifeline. A twisted smirk rose to her face as she moved her eyes lower. A longitudinal scar ran down her forearm, and where it ended in the crook of her arm, lay a happy cluster of ugly injection wounds. A genuine junkie's arm. How sweet.

Zee snorted and took her eyes off the arm. Just who had said that all faeries are shiny happy people with flower dresses and sweet voices? Feh. It was wishful thinking and sugarcoated dreams to have that sort of prejudice. Looking down four floors from her post on the windowsill Zee could make out the sad figures making their way through the ghetto. Homeless, unemployed, addicts, beggars, muggers, prostitutes - they came in all flavors, and none of them tasted good. These people didn't live, they merely existed - and were you to ask any of the "decent" people, they didn't do even that. Once you fell off the ladder of society, you fell all the way down through the cracks. You became part of that forgotten, forsaken world below everything else, the world that housed all the losers and in-betweens, who had lost their grip of reality. As far as the society was concerned, you didn't exist anymore. Pride and honor lost their meaning as they were replaced with much direr needs - food, shelter, drugs. Forgotten, forsaken, forlorn. The world of fors - every man and faerie for himself.

Ghetto fey. She had laughed at the name at first, but now she could only look sadly and bitterly at those who dared as much as smile at it. It was an appropriate name, after all. Slumming faeries. They didn't laugh and play and drink nectar; they swore and fought and shot heroin. Their songs followed the traditions of gangsta-rap, their dancing was aerial break and street, and they held nothing closer to their hearts as their own lives and broken dreams.

And what came to flowers... poppies were flowers, too, weren't they?

Zee stood up and jumped carelessly off the windowsill. Her black moth wings beat the air heavily and barely kept her flying. She could feel the trembling start again in her legs and arms. It had never been like this before, but now these feelings were everyday life. She gave a snort of contempt to the silent world. No, it hadn't always been like this. Ghetto fey fell down through the cracks just like humans did. But even if she tried, she couldn't remember the days of old. The sunshine and laughter of days gone past came back to her only in morphine dreams and hallucinations, visions distorted by substances that gently numbed the pains of today. Substances that made living outside life bearable and allowed her to forget the cold and the ache.

The faerie rose higher and passed over a block of flats silently, the only sound coming from her torn wings and wheezing breath. Yes, the days of old... the difference was overwhelming. The first time she had flown over this very same district, she hadn't even bothered to look down. She had been a young pixie, full of life, looking for her fortune in the urbanized courts of fey. She had been a "meadowmary", the six-inch equivalent of a hillbilly, laughingstock to the native city fey in all her innocence and flower blossom. What flower had it been...? She couldn't remember, but it wasn't important. What was important was what she'd been made into. She had been given a whole new flower to smell... poppies. From flower fae to opium fae in what could have been overnight. Her sweet dreams had unraveled as quickly.

Those days would never come back, she knew. Zee was stuck with the poppies and everything that came with them.

Repressing the worsening tremble in her limbs Zee circled lower. Keeping balance in flight with wings like hers, stitched and ragged as they were, was not the easiest thing to do, and landing... a form of art in itself. Aiming for a balcony sticking out from the brick wall of another dull apartment building, she drew up her wings and landed on the cold cement, knees bending to squat in one swift movement. Much more slowly she stood up again leaning against the wall and then pushed past the heavy curtains covering the otherwise empty doorway. The little slick had better be there...

And he was. Sitting idly on a cardboard box with a cigarette in one hand and a green top hat in the other, Jinx MacCollinn was enjoying his morning so far. The most renowned poker face and swindler around didn't exactly meet the traditional image of a leprechaun with his skinny build, but he certainly had the character for the job... which, in turn, was quite unfortunate for those to whom he owned money. Zee cursed the day when she had been talked into it by the glib-tongued green man.

Two black-nailed fingers snatched the cigarette from Jinx's hand. Zee crouched down beside the leprechaun, laid her right hand on his shoulder and had a long, enjoyable smoke. "Ah", she purred, blowing smoke out through her nostrils, "no joints? Good. That's gotta mean you still got the money you owe me. Pay up, green man, and make it fast."

The leprechaun dropped his top hat and nearly jumped out of his grayish skin. His wrinkled face turned to Zee and a smile appeared to cover the twitch in the corner of his eye. "A-a-a-ah! Zee. That's no nice way to wake someone up, you know." He shook a finger at the faerie in a reprimanding manner and attempted to jump down from the box, but his intention was stopped firmly. Zee squeezed the leprechaun's shoulder violently and shoved the cigarette into his face. It stopped one finger's width from neatly branding his cheek.

"You ain't going yet, Jinx. Pay up. Right now." Her voice was a low hiss packed with so much intimidation you could feel it oozing from the words. It was more than enough to make the leprechaun stiffen. Beads of sweat started forming on his wrinkled forehead.

"Now, now, Zee. Let's take this nice and easy... we'll talk." The smile persisted on his face, though barely.

"No talk, green man. For three weeks you've been telling me you'd have the money by today. Time's up. Be a nice boy and don't get me mad. I hate to get mad right in the morning." She grinned with a shark's teeth and lifted the cigarette back to her lips, blowing smoke on Jinx's face. "You don't wanna see me get mad right in the morning. Trust me on this, green man."

"Ah, I haven't yet been out to collect the money... you said till today, not this morning", he insisted, but his voice faltered.

The cigarette trembled with the faerie's hand and she tossed it idly to the ground. Earrings clinked against one another as she turned rapidly and grabbed Jinx by his lapels. Black wings flew open as she sprung up from the box dragging the shocked Irishman with her in the air. Great Mama forbid, if there was a man you should avoid, it was mister MacCollinn... the airborne couple gained height much to the leprechaun's horror. Hah. One inch above ground, and the green men begged for mercy. Wimps.

"Now, Jinx, I really think you should think twice 'bout that", she suggested in a honeyed tone, rising ever towards the ceiling. "You know, I haven't gotten my fix... now ain't it a shame if I get convulsions all of the sudden? Up 'ere in the air? Tchk tchk. I bet you'd splash neatly on the floor, eh?"

There was no answer. The leprechaun had covered his eyes and was trying to remember how to breathe.

Zee smirked and sounded a nasty titter. "Right. I think we agree on this, don't we, Jinx my man?" Slowly she descended and threw the leprechaun rudely on his back on the cardboard box. Then she folded her wings silently, pressing them tightly against her back, and dropped on her knees beside him. "Now. Pay up."

The leprechaun propped himself up on his elbows and grinned nervously. "B-but Zee... no use getting that rude, is there?" he tried one more time and attempted to wriggle backward. "There's no hurry, you know, don't mess with good neighbor relationships..."

Zee promptly rolled her eyes, stood up and placed a bare foot heavily on his chest. "One... more... frigging... time. You're gonna pay right now whatcha owe me. Or..." She stooped down towards him with an almost regretful face. "...you got one other alternative. If you ain't payin' me, then you're gonna go to Blood's, and talk him into givin' me my fix. Ain't that hard for ya, ha?"

There was no answer except for the cold sweat dripping down his forehead.

Zee smirked again and pushed her face closer. "Yeah, you know... lemme tell ya, I'll take ya there right away! Ya know, you'll get a real fine air taxi service from me, no doubt... Blood's gonna be so happy to see ya again..."

That did it. Jinx let out a terrified moan and reached eagerly for his inside pocket. Zee lifted her foot from his chest and stretched out a hand to receive the small pouch that the leprechaun produced from his pocket. She weighed it thoughtfully in her hand and took a seemingly careless peek inside. Standard quality fae gems, clear and evenly cut. She trusted that Jinx wouldn't dare to try fool her.

"That's about it, then, green man", she stated in a neutral tone and stuffed the pouch into her pocket. "Your debt with interests. Nice doin' business with ya." She glanced upwards to see the uneven hole in the ceiling. Bending her knees slightly she took off to her wings and spiraled upwards, not paying the leprechaun one more look.

The cool air greeted the faerie as she emerged from the building. What a way to start a day... the briefly manifesting tremble reminded her of the next thing to do. Blood. The dealer wasn't as bad as he sounded, but Jinx still had a very good reason to fear. Zee had little problems with the man, but he was infamous for not liking cons and swindlers one bit. Well... maybe a bit. And Blood's bite was certainly worse than his bark.

Zee took some time finding out her exact location. She had never been the best of the best hen it came to airborne travel, as opposed to navigating on land. She took a few turns and dived downwards, shooting through alleyways just high enough to avoid the unfriendly neighborhood dogs. Humans were no trouble: their banal brains told them to ignore such absurd things as faeries. Animals, unfortunately, hadn't even enough brain for that, and they commonly barked and bit at the passing fae. It wasn't only annoying, but also dangerous. Frail fae against a dobermann's fangs was a situation that promised little good for the winged party.

With some effort Zee located the half-open sewer lid and dropped ungracefully beside it. "Gems comin' thru", she hollered down, and after a while was answered with a series of three thumps. Holding her breath she climbed down the ladder that was cut right into the wall of the sewer shaft. Two pairs of glowing green eyes followed her closely from the shadows. Goblins. She suppressed the urge to look at them with disdain. Blood had a strange taste of living quarters and guards, but she was in no position to question it.

After walking carefully along the narrow ledge of the sewer for some minutes, Zee took a turn left to enter the familiar room behind three heavy curtains. The stench wasn't as intense here, though the low-roofed space was by no means not filthy. Behind the massive desk in the middle of the room sat legs crossed the only living creature present: Blood.

Blood was a notorious fae around the slums. His image was impressive at best, intimidating at worst. He stood more than a head taller than anyone else around the place and had the muscles to match his height. He wore his strikingly red hair in knee-length dreadlocks, and along with the vicious grin they gave a direct hint at his heritage. The nickname wasn't there for nothing, no: Blood had a redcap by the name of Gritma for a mother. No one knew who he had for a father - or had had, in any case. He quite eagerly verified the rumor about someone - namely his mother - literally having bitten off his father's head.

It was a cruel reputation that Blood chose to uphold, and it kept the worst of them from even trying to deal with him. But those who dared get into business with him, noticed that he had something else than just a redcap's bloodlust inside his brains. And by chance... Zee had a slight edge on this. She didn't only know whom Blood had for a father: she also knew what he had for a father. Blood didn't care for the rumor to spread. He responded by always cutting good deals to her in exchange for silence. Everyone was happy.

"Ha! Now ain't it missus spider-herder. What's up, my shaky poppy?" the dealer roared his greetings. He stood up behind the desk, steel-capped boots ringing heavily on the floor. The grin he shot as Zee was menacing, but she knew he had to sharpen those teeth himself.

Zee walked up to the desk and reached a shaky hand into her pocket, throwing the gem pouch on the table. "Cut the crap, take the money and gimme the stuff, Blood", she said coldly. "In that order, thanks."

Blood lifted a red eyebrow, amused. "Ooh. That tight and shakin' already in the morn, eh? Relax, Zee my dear, relax. No hurry anywhere, ha?" He fingered the pouch idly, but made no effort to do anything else.

"If mister Dulltooth would be so kind and serve his clients", she grunted in response, not at all amused. She rarely bothered resorting to threatening Blood with what she knew about him, but she wasn't a morning person. At all.

The half-blood fae squinted at her angrily. "I see, spider lady", he said in a low voice. "Someone ain't having a good day." He shrugged and opened the pouch, taking an appraising look at the gems. "...ain't gonna make it worse." Shrugging again, he reached under the desk and threw a small plastic bag of white powder to Zee.

She grabbed the bag and eyes it suspiciously in her shaking fingers. "This stuff good too, Blood? Is it?" The dealer just smirked. "The usual stuff, poppy. You know it ain't in my habits to fool you."

Zee gave him a blank look and put the powder into safety in a pocket. Without further ado, she turned around and walked outside.

"See you again soon, missus Zee!" Blood yelled after her. "Always open for the good clientele."

Bet you are, Blood my friend. Bet you are. Always there to help the poor ones out. But the dreadlocked red devil for a fae faded from her mind quickly and easily as she made her way up from the sewers again. What wrong had he done? Nothing. He just took the opportunity and strived to survive. If it was at another's expense, it made no difference. It was just about choosing the dream. You could take the death-dreams... or the distorted ones.