2020-09-04-First one is free

First one is free

Participants: Spencer

Location: Spencer's townhouse

Date and Time: September 4, 2020 - 3:14 pm

Summary: Having tried all else, Spencer takes drastic steps

The audible snapping sound that came from Spencer's knees when they buckled during the game was deafening. In reality, it was probably only in his head, but he would swear at the time the entire stadium could hear it. The pain that followed didn't hit until a few seconds after he was already on the ground. It was a severe, burning, constant ache that not even the most potent painkillers they could give him would relieve, but what hurt worse was the way his teammates looked at him in the locker room after the game.

It was a look of disappointment, rage, and dismissal that shocked him to his very core. These were his brothers. Shouldn't they be rallying around him instead of casting him aside like a used toy?

A week later, his knees ache as he flops himself down onto his couch. It's always so much worse after physical therapy when the trainer forces Spencer to push himself a little further and a little further until there isn't anything more to give. It didn't use to be like this; the low weight that he is curling during PT would have been child's play just a few weeks ago. If someone had told him then that he would have trouble with doing reps of this weight, he would have laughed himself hoarse, but life loves to fuck with you. Just one wrong move...one cleat catching in the grass at just the wrong time blows an entire career. Maybe he should give up, he thinks to himself, accept the fate that has been handed to him, and live off the money he inherited. That thought is quickly banished from his mind, however. He has fought so hard to get where he is, sacrificed so much of his time and efforts to be the best at this, and he doesn't have it in him to just quit. He can't; he won't.

With a heavy sigh, Spencer pushes up off the couch and hobbles his way towards the bedroom, using the walls to steady his shaky knees as he slowly makes his way down the hall. Opening the safe in the wall, he stares at the contents inside. It isn't the stacks of cash or the piles of paperwork that draw his attention. It is the little black bag that Jason gave him that has his attention. He knows this is his last hope to play in the game in a couple of weeks, or ever again. With a heavy sigh and trembling hand, the offensive tackle reaches forward and picks up the bag. How can such a little thing that weighs only a few ounces feel like lifting a ton?

Tossing the bag onto the bed, he sits down heavily next to it, looking at the case for a long moment in contemplation. Is this really what he wants to do? Spencer is no stranger to the party scene, it isn't like he hasn't had an illicit substance in his bloodstream before, but they were at least a known variable. They were respected dealers from the social circles he frequents, whose reputations would be shot if they ended up poisoning their clientele. This? This is an unknown. Jason swears it is safe, promises that it will work wonders, miracles even.

Isn't that what he needs right now? A miracle?

Reaching towards the bag again, Spencer's hand shakes in trepidation which is a feeling that is unusual for this giant of a man. The things he has put his body through, and he is afraid of a little needle? The thought makes Spencer laugh a short laugh as he pushes past the feeling and takes the bag in his hands, opening it to reveal a syringe and a tiny vial of red liquid.

He picks up the vial and holds it between his thumb and forefinger, examining the fluid in the light. He can't help but think it looks like blood but thicker—just a bit more viscous. Jason did say it was organic, right? Maybe it was made with stem cells? Spencer still can't help wondering if this stuff can do what Jason thinks it can, how it isn't on the market and raking in billions. How did Jason, of all people, get his hands on it? He tips the bottle this way and that, watching how the liquid in the vial moves and how that ruby hue catches the light.

It's game time. The familiar pre-game rituals in the locker room aren't there to psych him up now; Spencer is on his own. There is no coach with his 'motivational' yelling nor cheering fans to get his blood pumping. It is just him, the needle, that vial, and his veins. The longer he hesitates, the harder it will be to do what needs to get done. 'Stop wasting time, Spencer,' he thinks to himself as he grabs the syringe from the case and uncaps the needle. He pushes the tip of the needle into the stopper, penetrating the rubber like a fang before tipping the vial up and drawing the drug into the syringe. How much did Jason say to take? What is the correct dose? He doesn't recall, but more is better right? He draws most of the bottle into the syringe, tossing the glass vial onto the bed when finished.

Moment of truth. Spencer pushes the plunger, forcing the air out of the syringe until just a slight drop of the Vee oozes out the top of the needle. How stupid would that be, dying from an air bubble when taking illegal drugs to try for a miracle cure. The paparazzi would have a field day over that. Finding a vein is easy. They bulge out when built like he is and are reasonably visible, even without rubber tubing to constrict the flow. He places the tip of the needle in the crook of his arm and pushes, the sharp point slipping into his flesh like a hot knife through butter. There is a bit of a sting, but it is barely noticeable compared to his knees' throbbing.

He depresses the plunger.

It takes only a millisecond for the rush to hit as the Vee circulates through his bloodstream, so intense that it elicits an audible gasp from the football plater. An instant euphoria. "Holy shit," he exclaims as he empties the syringe into his arm. The pain in his knees is gone in an instant, with not even a dull ache left behind. He feels like he could play USC all by himself right now, win, and still have enough energy to party the night away afterward. Jason was right! This shit is amazing!

Spencer pulls the syringe from his arm. There is no trace of a puncture mark, a new benefit of the healing power of the Vitae now coursing through his blood. Recapping the syringe, he places both it and the vial back into the bag, and the bag is sealed and tossed back onto the bed. Now, the moment of truth. Spencer nervously starts to stand, slowly rising to his feet and expecting the sharp pain in his knees to appear through the euphoria of the Vitae.

No pain?

Spencer squats, bending his knees. Once. Twice. A third time.

No pain!

An almost hysterical cackling emits from Spencer's lips. He does a little hop...no pain! Jump...no pain! He tries running in place, and there is no pain! If anything, he feels stronger! Jason is so getting his year of drinks at O'Swilligan's.