A private eye has been hired by a community after the disappearances of several men and women. Their families can’t identify any connections between the missing, outside of them being young, so the families have turned to the investigator for help and are willing to pay a hefty fee on the missings’ return.
Following leads on their last known locations and some shady friends that have something to hide, the investigator uncovers a trail that leads to a club outside of town. Pretty singers and waitresses fill out the staff and are clearly covering for some kind of illicit activity behind the scenes. The drinks are expensive but not enough to cover the rent on this swanky place. After snooping around a bit too obviously, our private eye has a run in with the bouncer and gets shown the door, harshly.
Going back to one of the missing’s cagey friends, she spills some beans and says that her friend was last seen going to the docks. He swore her to secrecy and said he would be gone for a while but would contact her in the future. At the docks, the investigator finds a rusted up shipping vessel with an unusual amount of activity for this time of night and he sneaks on board. Inside, it’s well-lit and maintained, without a spot of the rust taking over the outside. Heading deeper in, the detective spots a woman from the town. Wasn’t known to be friends with any of the missing, a real loner actually, and sensitive about her homely looks. She hands over an envelope to the woman at the desk and a wad of cash thuds out. A man steps out from the next door and hands the plain girl a small pill bottle and she immediately downs one of the pills inside. The girl shivers and seems to have trouble standing before she shakes it off and props herself up against one of the stacks of boxes. Soon, she arches her back and breaths out, hard, almost a gasp and starts touching her face. She turns just enough for the investigator to catch a view and her skin seems healthier and free of blemishes. Running her hand through now silkier hair, it seems to have more body and sheen. She pats her hand against a toned stomach before patting her chest with some disappointment. The investigator can’t make out what she’s saying, but she repeatedly points to her chest and then the woman at the desk starts responding and pointing at the pill bottle. The girl seems happy with the answer and clutches the pill bottle, gently touching her new face once more, and then heading out of the room.
Sensing a heck of a story, the investigator heads in deeper into the ship, finding a store of crates with strange foreign writing he can’t identify. Cracking one open, it’s filled with jars which are then filled to the brim with the mystery pills. Snapping a pill in half, they’re filled with an odorless, unidentifiable pale yellow powder. The private eye dabs a bit on his tongue, which lights up with an icy chill. He feels fine and rolls the remaining three pills around in his palm questioning just what’s going on here. Suddenly, a scuffing of sole alerts him of somebody’s approach outside the room. There’s no back door in the store room and the walls are packed with the heavy crates so there’s nowhere to hide. Figuring getting caught empty handed is his best defense, the investigator downs the pills and then stumbles against the wall as the icy chill runs through his whole body. He feels like he’s made of gelatin when the guest arrives. The thug glares at the person hunched over in a too big coat and grabs their shoulder, spinning them around. The private eye gasps as the changes finish having their time with his body. Strands of hair dangle in front of his eyes, his lips feel thick and it’s hard to speak, the throb of parts expanding and others contracting finally dulls, when a petite squeak escapes his throat. The thug sighs angrily and points at the detective and bellows that she should know that it takes cash to get more pills. These rich kids never have the sense to play it smart with his organization. They grow up in luxury and think the world is theirs. The detective’s mousy voice whispers out an apology and he claims to be short on money. The thug sighs again and lets go of the investigator’s shoulder. He grabs three pills from the opened jar and thrusts them at the detective. Don’t let the boss lady find out he gave her some samples. Take them now so nobody finds the pills if they search her. The detective flinches but the thug stares him down, so the new pills go down the hatch too. The thug nods and shoves our lead towards the door. If she needs cash for her next refill, head to the club. They’ll know you’re on good terms with the boss just looking at you, so they’ll set you up.