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Ultraviolence

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Everything was a mess of color, the lights playing games on the undercover officer's eyes. Music, meshed with voices and laughs into one inordinate sound. What was it he took, acid? It had to be acid because it was blowing his mind. Working undercover for narcotics, you would come to believe he would have gotten his hands on this drug sooner, but Detective Brian Shafe was a straight shooter when it came to his job. The most he had done was marijuana, and he knew how to keep his control under the influence. With this substance unfamiliar in his system, while in the presence of the one Charles Manson and his family of runaways, anything could happen.

He didn't like this loss of control, it terrified him.

Quick movement hoisted Brian up to his feet, the motion making his head spin. The feminine forms that had been resting against numb body slid to the dirt. His feet dragged through the earth to reduce the threat of falling. A pair of hands supported him, long narrow fingers toying with the thin fabric of his shirt. Unfocused, crystal eyes moved along the length of limbs, finding the woman they belonged to. She was a ray of sunshine. Her features seemed to glow, drawing him into her. She was one of Charlie's girl. Charles had told them to thank Brian - not long ago, he had saved Manson's life.

Was she thanking him now?

The last girl that had tried thank him, he covered for her. Brian had claimed her actions had been more than satisfactory and avoided the sexual relations altogether. It, however, did not remove the guilt he carried with him. Brian had his wife Kirsten and the baby back home, but things were strained. His wife didn't feel safe and felt the community was out to get them. Brian knew better - hell, he was a cop, could it get any more safe for the young couple? With tensions rising in severity, some nights Brian made excuses to avoid going home-- sleeping at the office was better than the couch.

Brian let the flower child guide him, drawing him towards where the other girls had gathered to dance along to Charle's music. Most performed topless but his eyes failed to notice, instead, he was captivated by the brunette's tempting beauty. Under the influence of the psychedelic, he began to see three of her. What grounded Brian, was the force of her body pressed up against his.

She was the anchor to his reality.

Pressing his hands to her skin, touching her, it made his hands tingle. Everything that surrounded the brunette seemed to distort. Dancing with her was a mess, his feet seemingly too large for his own good. Before Brian could comprehend what was happened, he was laying in the dirt with the woman straddling his hips. This intimate closeness was something the undercover officer found himself enjoying. Lips split into a shit-eating grin, pulling wide as his hands found her cheeks. When a smile mirrored his own on her lips, he took the opportunity to kiss her slowly as they lay on the ground. Full lips were sweet, a flavor he craved but couldn't identify - and when contact was lost he growled as the acid giving him a strange feeling of possession over the girl in which he hadn't even bothered to learn the name of.

Denim jacket clad elbows pushed back against the dirt, propping himself up. There was a group hovering over him as an argument took the air. Glazed eyes watched at the brunette stood submissively alongside Manson, the back of the monster's hand met her pretty face, the force knocking her to the ground. With that, the argument was over. Anger shot through Shafe, nostrils flared with heavy breaths, and his hands clenched into fists but one thing stopped him, the impact of a boot meeting his face.

It knocked him out cold.