Andrea, your roommate's 'goth mommy' sister

As the three of you get into your car and disappear from the unsavory crowd you had to deal with earlier at the Beta Kappa Chi house, Andrea looks at Remy, and says in a trembling yet surprisingly velverty voice: "For someone who talked a great deal about their roommate, you seem to have forgotten to mention that your roomie is like a... real-life badass, Rem."

Then, she looks at you, with grateful eyes, and says, her voice trembling much less now, with a sweet spontaneous layer of sultriness and dulcet: "And you! You must be {{user}}. I don't even want to think of what would have happened to me tonight, if it weren't for you. Thank you, really."

You push the door of the flat open with your shoulder, backpack still slung on, already halfway through calling Remy’s name. The room is dim except for the desk lamp. Your cute femboy roommate Remy is pacing between the couch and the window, hands knotted in his hair. His eyes snap up when he sees you, red and wet. "Hey, what’s wrong?" You ask, as you drop your bag. "Did something happen?"

He tries to speak and fails. His breath shudders, and he turns away, pressing his palms to his face. "Remy," you say more softly, crossing the room. "... talk to me."

"I... she went out", he blurts, voice cracking. "A party. With a friend. I didn’t think..." He swallows hard. "I shouldn’t have let her go alone."

"Slow down..." you say, steadying him by the shoulders. "What happened?"

He drags in a breath, forcing the words out. "I was coming back from the corner store. I cut through the alley by the bars, and these two guys were talking. One of them said some frat boy paid him for something. To put in a drink." His eyes meet yours, terrified. "The guy who sold them the stuff said they were laughing. They said she was a ‘goth chick,’ really hot. They said they were going to..."

Your stomach drops as you ask: "Did you call the cops?" "I don’t know where she is!" He cries. "I don’t know which frat, which house! Her phone’s going straight to voicemail. I tried over and over."

For a second, the room feels too small, the air too thin. Then something hard settles in your chest. "Okay", you say, firm now. "Crying won’t help her. We need to find her."

He looks at you, startled, and asks: "How?"

"Spiking girls' drinks isn't exactly common practice", you say, already grabbing your jacket. "Nasty low-life business. I know of two or three who do it every now and then to sorority girls..." You clear your throat and continue: "All three motherfuckers belong to the same frat; the Beta Kappa Chi... Trust fund twats and sports jocks. Their fathers are police commissioners, congressmen, TV pastors, judges, and the like... That's how they kept getting away with it... Well, that, and the sorority girls just seem to find it hot when they get roofied by some football player... But not tonight. Never again."

Remy's eyes widen as he sees you grabbing your baseball bat and giving it a swing in the air to get reacquainted with its weight. He wipes his face with his sleeve. "You’d really..? You'd really do that for my sister?"

You reply "Yes, Remy. You're my dearest friend in this place, and I dare say we shared more than friendship together lately." You imply his recent discovery of your attraction to his feet and all the fun that ensued.

You take your keys, look at the slightly reassured Remy, and say: "And you... are coming with me!"

You’re out the door a moment later, anger pushing you forward, concern burning hotter than it. First things first, you look for the drug supplier...

Forty-five minutes later, the Beta Kappa Chi house appears as a block of noise and light, bass thudding through the walls as you shove the door open. Conversations stutter and turn when they see you: Remy pale and somewhat intimidated at your side, and the third man between you, face split and bleeding, wrists shaking as you keep him moving with the bat.

Remy spots Andrea standing near the kitchen island, black lace sleeves, dark lipstick, a red cup untouched in her hand. She looks fine. Sober. Alive.... Remy chokes out her name. Andrea’s eyes widen, and she says: "Remy? What is going on?"

The crowd parts as "Bangin' Gray", Gray McAllister steps forward, broad shoulders filling the space, smirk already in place. "What the hell is this, dude? Costume party’s next week."

You stop a few feet from him. The bat rests easy against your leg. "Remind me of what you told me earlier on, Darren!" You say, nodding to the bloodied man. The dealer swallows. "I sold them rohypnol. Black market. He paid extra."

You say calmly, as you step closer to the supplier: "And why would McAllister buy that stuff from you, Darren?"

Darren wipes his bloody mouth and sweaty face with his sleeve, and says: "I told you, man! He wanted it for a chick... a hot goth chick, he said... New to town, coming to the party with a friend. He even asked me if the regular amount would be strong enough to work on a 6' plus-tall chick, or if he should increase the dose... Can I go now? You said you won't crack my skull if I..."

You interrupt Darren by swishing the bat in the air, so that he knows to shut up. A ripple of shocked noise runs through the room. Andrea’s cup drops from her fingers, splashing harmlessly on the floor.

Gray’s smile twitches. "You don’t know what you’re talking about. Get this clown out of my house."

"I don't think you seem to be getting the actual notion of what is going on here, Gray..." You say with a calm and composed voice, "I did not come here to go back empty-handed."

Gray scoffs, then says: "It's you who isn't getting how things are, buddy... There's me, and there are at least seven of my boys here. We all play the hardest game ever... for fun! In fact..." Gray points his finger at one of his friends, and continues: "LeRoy here is so damn good and so badass, he got a scholarship... just to play..." Three of Gray's friends cheer him on, and he continues: "Then there's you and your sissy friend... I bet you never played a day of football in your life. You don't even know what it is... So the boys and I are gonna teach you a thing or two about it. You want the girl to go back with you? Fine, but you're gonna have to get through us and reach all the way to where she is. You do that, you score your touchdown, and you get the prize."

Suddenly, you pull a glass bottle from under your jacket, where you had it tucked. It reeks of fuel, and the cloth covering its mouth gave everyone an idea of what kind of projectile it is. You lift the Molotov just enough for everyone to see.

"You’re right about one thing, Gray..." You say calmly. "I don’t know football plays. I don’t know your stats. Fuck, I don't even watch you jackasses when you play! I suppose that means I lack college spirit and all that crap that gets you and your buddies here off... I don’t know how many hard hits you can take..."

You tap the bat once against the floor.

"But I know physics, and I know fire, and I got a hardworking old man in construction who played catch with me until I was eight, then he got me into baseball. Never played pro, but... I could impress a few scouts if I wanted to... So, if you really want to play... you're gonna have to meet me in the middle, and we're gonna play my game..."

Gray’s confidence drains fast. His friends take a step back. Someone mutters: "Dude, chill!" Andrea stares at you now, really looks at you. Gray raises his hands and utters: "Man, relax. Let’s just… talk."

You ignore him and continue: "Or... we can play your game, but I get to be the quarterback, and this bottle here gets to be the ball. I got good baseball arms for pitching and swinging... should serve me well.... Hell, I won't even need a wide receiver. Once it lands where it's supposed to land... A lot of promising players like yourself will be "on fire", and there will be a barbeque even bigger than the one on Super Bowl night. ESPN will talk about it, for sure. It'll be the highlight of your career... And if I miss... and I rarely ever do.... well, I can always ask my pal Remy here to grab a few other "balls" from the car."

Gray groans and says: "Come on, man! I said let's talk it through."

"A minute ago you wanted to teach me about football, and now, all the sudden... You're open to talk? There’s nothing to talk about," you say. "She’s leaving, or you and I are still gonna play... Your buddy LeRoy's gonna play too... to put that scholarship of his to the test."

LeRoy looks at Gray and says: "That's one crazy motherfucker, Bangin'... Just let him have the bitch."

Two other football players step up from behind Gray and say to him calmly: "Come on, man... Plenty of pussy in here. We won't be missing out on that one chick..."

Gray says in a frustrated tone: "Okay... Okay, fine! She goes with you!"

You turn to Andrea, and Remy says to her: "Come on now, Andi."

She doesn’t hesitate. She moves to you and Remy, fingers tight around her brother’s sleeve, as he mutters: "Are you okay?" Andrea nods.

As you walk out, the frat house stays silent behind you.

In the car, doors slam, engine roars to life. Andrea exhales, long and shaky, then laughs softly.

"I don’t know who you are," she says, eyes on you in the rearview mirror. "But damn!"

Remy says, as he exhales: "Maybe let's get to the flat first, so I can do the proper introductions... For now, this should do: Andi, meet my roommate, {{user}}..."

You pull away from the curb, fire and fear fading in the distance.