She cut open a plastic wrapped block of powder and shook a small amount of the powder onto the coffee table.

*goes to fetch his bag of “tw: drugs” tags*

So are these people just random, kinda awful mundane civilians of Brockton Bay? I’m suspecting that the “fatass friend” is going to be the most important character here.

…actually, it wouldn’t surprise me too much right now if these were former Merchants.

She used the laminated card to cut it into lines, a set on each side of the table, with none in front of her.

Monsters Inc would give you a better time.

“You’re not having any?”

“I told you.  I’m pregnant.”

Oh?

Honestly, I think this is more interesting because of what it says about Sam and Celia’s relationship than about the pregnancy itself. Celia is clearly familiar with Sam, but it sounds like he only just learned about this pregnancy (either that or Celia has had to point to her pregnancy as a reason for abstinence before). Add that to Sam’s statement about the friend using Celia’s bathroom rather than their, and it’s pretty clear that he’s a (probably infrequent, if it’s not the first time) visitor of some description.

“Get buried alive!”

The noise of the crowd was more bloodthirsty this time, unmasked and unashamed in their savagery.

I haven’t missed them.

“Hope you rancid pukes have friends to dig you up!  Put up with that shit while you’re on the trip of your life, and you get yourselves a green fucking armband!  For the rest of the night, everything is as free as your mother’s pussy!

But I do like Skidmark’s way of talking. It’s awful and raunchy, yes, but it’s also really distinctive and good. There’s a reason I quickly identified who was saying the first line in spite of my previous track record.

…also is that a yo mama joke or is he calling them motherfuckers? Either way, it works coming from Skidmark.

For as long as you hold on to that baby, anything you buy direct from one of us head honchos is ten percent off!  So which-”

Huh, that’s neat.

I wonder if it stacks. Up to a limit, I guess – I doubt Skidmark and co. give out completely free drugs to anyone with ten green armbands.

He stopped.  There was a thump as the microphone hit the surface near Skidmark’s feet and then a violent but all too brief noise as it struck one of the propellers at the side of the aircraft and was promptly annihilated.

…uh, alright? Something take you by surprise?

I hope it’s Siberian, just so I can make a certain joke about cats and tongues.

“Which one of you dripping rectal cysts is brave enough for this one!?”

Hi there, Skidmark!

So are we going to be following him, or someone around him? Scrub might be a good one to follow, being new to having a power and new to the Merchants’ elite of parahumans.

The cheer bubbled up from the crowd, until it reached a crescendo that he could hear from his aircraft/podium.

Looks like it’s the perspective of the man himself. This ought to be… interesting.

The wind ripped around him as he stood at the nose of the aircraft, his cape fluttering.  Squealer’s vehicle was like a helicopter made by someone who had never seen a helicopter before, who’d decided to add their own improvements to the design when they were finished – more whirling blades spaced equidistant around the thing.  Topping it off, it was roughly three times the typical size.

Heh, nice.

“Green armband means poison, and this is a poison half of you wastes of air have already tasted!  We’re gonna make it as bad as it gets!  The worst of bad trips!”

Hm, alright, what the hell are they up to here? Is this just an arrangement to get together to do drugs?

It made me think of Newter at first, but if he were attacking the Crew, getting tagged by Newter would be something they don’t want.

He held a bowl of pills that were dusted with assorted powders and raised it over his head, “One handful, then you take a nap in one of the coffins we have up here.  Moment the lid shuts, you’ll find out what’s in store for you.  Some have rats, some have spiders, some have nothing at all and some…”

Welcome to Fear Factor.

A beam of light speared down from the base of the fat bodied helicopter, sending chunks of earth where it hit ground.  The moment it faded, a coffin fell into the hole that had formed, followed by a downpour of gravel.

Well, at least this one fits the container.