Peepshow

         After the end of a long day in the San Aguado summer heat, the working men and women of Ridgeback liked nothing more than to spend their evenings in the various air conditioned establishments all over the Southwest section of town. During the day most of these establishments were open for business, and at night they were closed and that end of town was mostly quiet save for the harsh and muffled thump of music pumping out of a tall building covered in colorful neon signs.
         Mordecai wandered slowly toward the tall building, signs all over advertising tonight’s peep show. A ‘double feature’, starring Sandra and Kelly. Nova Dawn and Karla Call. He wasn’t sure how but he had the hardest time remembering their stage names, even though he’d seen them every weekend at this point since he’d gotten the job.
         He’d only been in this forsaken place for a month and he hated all of the people here, except the girls who worked at the club. All of them horndogs, murderers, predators. Did that make him hypocritical, since he also ended up cast down here with them? Maybe. He didn’t really care, though. He refused to be as low as the awful men here--and maybe that’s why he still worked at the club. Women like Sandra and Kelly needed that extra buffer against those guys.
         Papers littered the streets. Drawings of a sharp-faced woman were sketched onto them--some sort of woman with big hair and a hooked, beak-like nose, always depicted with a sharp-toothed smile. In some she had wings and, in others, countless amounts of arms. Every single one had a message scribbled onto the top and bottom that said “WARNING!”, “BEWARE”, or “SHE’S HERE!”, something like that.
         He knew this woman, kind of. A nomadic bird lady who went by “Ratchet”, some kind of powerful mage or something. Nothing he’s heard of--he’s not really sure what the big deal was. A lot of people used magic here somehow. Even if a lot of it was imbued in their material items, as were the people in Ridgeback.
         Mordecai entered through the back door, reserved for the employees. Another day in paradise. When he stepped inside, the cool air of the club brushed over his heated body, already sweaty even just from the short walk to work. The backroom was dark in an attempt to keep it cool--on the couch, immediately opposite of the door, were Sandra and Kelly, laughing and joking around just before the show.
         Sandra was lounged across two of the couch cushions, a fresh coffee on the end table beside her, stirring a spoon with her finger without touching the handle. She was a shorter woman with soft features and fair skin, while Kelly, who had an open book in her lap, had darker skin and coiled, springy hair.
         “Shouldn’t you two be getting ready?” he asked, frowning at the two women. It had been bright out, and coming into the dark room left his eyes blinded as the room went dark again.
         “We are ready, Mordi,” said Kelly, her voice soft and melodic, “We got another hour. Shouldn’t you be getting ready, doorman?”
         Sandra’s laughter bubbled out, and she added with a playful lilt in her tone, “You better keep an eye out. I hear Ratchet’s been seen in the area.”
         With a harsh scoff, Mordecai reached up and rubbed his eyes, hoping that would somehow help adjust them faster to the darker room. “The marshals can keep an eye out for her. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
         Both of the girls scoffed at him, and he turned to them both and frowned. Sandra spoke, her voice surprisingly lighthearted even as she said “Like there’s anything anyone can do if she shows up,” She laughed and stood up, “There’s fresh coffee on the table. You might need it tonight.”
         The still blurry and darkened shape of the girls moved over to a door over by the kitchen area, which had a big copper star fastened onto it. Mordecai called after them, “You girls call me if anyone’s giving you trouble!”
         “We will!” Kelly’s voice called out just before the door shut and the girls were gone. Mordecai sighed deeply. These girls waved away far too much danger for the place they lived in. Oh well--time to guzzle coffee and get out there.

         No one was manning the entrance when he walked out there, and the massive gun safe behind the front counter hadn’t been properly closed. Not only that but there was someone knocking on the door, for who knows how long. Who had this shift before him…? There were some pistols already stashed inside. Mordecai pushed the safe door closed with his foot, groaning tiredly. A good way to start the night--no, really, he was thrilled.
         He slid the peep hole open if only to shut the frantic knocking up, glaring through it into the night air. As soon as he did the knocking stopped, and he saw that no one was there. Fucking--really? He closed the peephole, and took his spot in just standing by the door. It was lucky that the front door hadn’t been left open--the owners would have been pissed. That was the last thing he needed tonight. At least it seemed no one but him had caught it.
         A lot of people were already the club--thankfully, he’d missed the initial rush. Mordecai scratched his patchy beard, yawning already. A few stragglers would pass through soon enough, and after that all he had to do was make sure no one got handsy. Hopefully Sandra and Kelly would have a good night; those two deserved it, after a string of bad nights.
         In about an hour maybe three people came through the door. Only one of them he knew--one of the farmers. The other two were people likely passing through town, as people often did. “Is Ratchet really here?” one of them asked as he asked for their weapons.
         Mordecai popped the cartridge out of the pistol and pulled the chamber back. He’d rather not have to empty the chamber this way but--firing the gun in the club was honestly an even worse option. “Maybe she was seen around.” Everyone was talking about this sharp-faced lady it seemed. “I don’t think she’s a big threat to us here. What would a ‘Warlord’ want with us here?”
         He just couldn’t believe someone like that could be a huge threat. Sure, he’d seen plenty of women already that were no-nonsense and had laid a few men out, but a woman Warlord? He hadn’t even seen that Eileen the Fox yet, whoever she was. Mordecai placed the pistol into the safe and turned to look at the man with the assault rifle, holding his hand out expectantly.
         “Are you sure I can’t keep it with me…?” the scruffy man asked, “What if Ratchet shows up?”
         “There’s no guns allowed in the club, sir.” Mordecai snapped his fingers to urge him to give up the gun, “C’mon. Don’t be unreasonable.”
         For a few moments the scruffy man weighed his opens before, as expected, his need for the peepshow took over and he lifted the rifle’s strap from his shoulder and handed it over. Mordecai quickly unloaded it, carefully popping the bullet from the chamber.
         As they always did.
         "Go ahead and take your seat.” He found a spot in the safe for the assault rifle and carefully closed the safe. “You can come get your weapon back when you’re ready to leave. Show starts in half an hour.”

         A few more people came in--some had left before the show. Tim the butcher came through, and Mordecai was more than happy to shoot the shit with him and pass some time. Apparently the poor guy had gotten into a fight with his wife. Mordecai let him in without pay; the guy needed a break. Sandra and Kelly would understand and not speak about it to the owners.
         8:45. Fifteen minutes. No one else was allowed into the club now, per owner’s policy. Mordecai dragged the seat from behind the counter over and sat down, happy for a short break before the show would start. Jeez, some of these people. He'd sat down to rest for a second, and about five minutes later someone else knocked on the door. A small and dainty sound, barely heard over the music. Mordecai groaned and walked over.
         He opened the peephole and was startled when he saw a flash of hot pink light. It faded quickly. That was--weird. He bent over and peeked through, and saw a pair of pink eyes looking back at him, slightly obscured by long bangs parted to one side of a soft but sharp face. “Uh--” Mordecai cleared his throat, feeling an odd dread pooling like a sticky tar in his gut. “We’re closed for the show. No one else gets in.”
         “That’s not fair,” said the woman, playful and bubbly. Something in her voice gave him pause, but he glared at her, even as she said, “You might not know who I am. I’m kind of a big deal here in San Aguado? You might have seen my picture here and there…”
         “Doesn’t matter. No one else gets in.”
         “Aw, you’re no fun…”
         He slid the peephole shut and walked back into position. Just a second later, there was another knock on the door. Knowing it was the woman with the pink eyes, he ignored it. Another second later, another knock at the door, this one much louder and forceful. Mordecai groaned, and walked over to slide it open ,”Listen, lady!” he knelt down to glare at her, ready to tell her what her place really was, but a pair of fading blue eyes and bushy grey eyebrows stared back at him.
          Mordecai visibly relaxed. “Oh, it’s you.” He stood up straight and pulled the door open to let the saloon owner in. “Hey there, Max. Sorry ‘bout that. Show starts in about ten minutes.”
          Silently, Max handed him his gun and went on his way into the front stage, taking a spot at one of the lonesome chairs in the back. What an old man. Old men coming to these things somehow felt grosser than the younger fellows. Oh well--they were all paying customers. As long as he didn’t touch the girls that was fine.

         Not two minutes later there was another knock on the door. Dumbass stragglers. Mordecai hobbled over and leaned down, ready to turn them away as he slid the door open. “Sorry, no one’s--”
         “That’s just bullshit.”
         There was another flash of pink light, directly into his retinas this time. A sharp, stinging pain burned through his eyes and into his brain, and he reeled back, a scream dying in his throat before he could even make a sound.
         It lasted for just a moment, and then he was staring up at the ceiling. He was sitting down behind the counter, just a few feet away from the front door of the club. It was open again--holy fuck, what happened? He rubbed his forehead, groaning. A pink vignette glowed softly at the edges of his vision, and a harsh pain throbbed in the center of his brain.
         What the hell was that?
         Limply his hand fell down to his side again. Pins and needles buzzed in his fingers and toes, up through his limbs and into his hips and torso. By Gott’s truest aim he felt so numb. Moving slow, legs feeling too much like jelly, he shut the front door and locked it.
         He glanced at his watch--9:24PM. Damn, whatever happened he was out for a while. Was it a heat stroke? This place was so fucked--a magical heatstroke. Yeah, that made sense. The most sense this place could make anyway. He’d heard stories. Rumors, actually. To actually experience them first hand? No, never.
         No music was playing. As Mordicai’s head began to clear he noticed that instead of idle chatter he could hear disgruntled comments and frustrated conversation. He stood up from his seat, legs still feeling like jelly--he pitched forward, only just barely catching himself on the front counter.
         No one was on stage. The curtains hadn’t even pulled up. Weren’t the girls supposed to start over half an hour ago? Mordecai wobbled around the counter and moved toward the entrance toward the main dance floor. Even if Sandra and Kelly weren’t ready, who was manning the curtains right now?
         As if sensing his alarmed questions, a low bass began to thump rhythmically through the club. Lights dimmed to a smokey purplish red as the curtains slowly rose. Protests stopped, replaced with whooping cheers.
For a single alarming moment he didn’t see the girls. Where were they? Oh, shit, where were they?
He saw their feet as the curtains drew higher, dangling a few feet above the ground. Many people gasped and fell silent as the third pole was revealed, and they saw a pair of fucked up feet. Owl feet? That’s certainly what it looked like. Two clawed toes in front and two in the back here a heel would be, slightly obscured by long silky feathers--but what kind of an owl was this?
         People began to shout as the curtain pulled all the way up. The first thing Mordecai truly noticed were Sandra and Kelly, hanging from nooses made from the ropes that held the sandbags for the curtains. Lifeless, bodies already greying, eyes softly glowing a strange pink that was slowly fading.
         “Oh, shit!” someone cried.
         Somewhere else in the crowd someone else screamed “Get the guns!” Finally, Mordecai looked at the third pole, at the creature that was posing on there, white-speckled brown wings spread out proudly, awkwardly bent legs crossed over each other.
         It was the sharp-faced woman from the posters all over town. How did she get in?! None of the doors were locked! No one but him, the owners and the strippers had the keys to the back!
         “It’s Ratchet!” a woman shrieked, and Mordecai saw a wicked smile stretch out across the monster’s face. “Where’s Mordecai? Mordecai!”
         “Someone--just gank her! Are there any mages in the house?”
          He had to do something. The gun safe--! It had all the guns, he knew it did. Mordecai spun around, trying to remember the combination off the top of his head--
The safe was already open. He wasn’t sure how he’d missed it but the humongous safe was wide open. All of the guns were gone.
         “Goooooooooood evening, everybody!” said the bubbly, sing-songy voice from the stage. Feeling woozy, Mordecai slowly turned around. People were getting up from their seats, all silent now. When did they all just go quiet?          The bird monster’s eyes were glowing brightly now, a hot neon pink that shone through the foggy red of the stage lights. Disembodied hands had sprouted out from all over the stage, abyssal and holding onto all sorts of firearms, all aimed out at the crowd. “I noticed how boring this place was and I decided to drop in! Are we ready for some real entertainment!?”
         All guns pointed at the ceiling and opened fire, the roaring sound deafening in this enclosed space. Fire, lightning and hyper-compressed shockwaves all rocked the walls, everyone ducked on reflex, all bodies hitting the deck as metal cases scattered across the floor. Mordecai tried to dive, but his body tensed and locked rigid.
         She was looking right at him. Mordecai was watching the crowd of bodies cowering on the floor but he felt her eyes on him.
         No.
         He felt her more than he heard her. Somehow the words appeared in his head without a word being spoken.
         No, you’re going to watch. Just stand there and watch.
         The bird monster lifted up her wings, clawed hands sticking out of her feathers as she gestured to the crowd, “All right everyone! It’s time for a little audience participation!” Tail feathers fanned out behind her as she stepped down the steps to the catwalk. The way her legs moved so unnaturally in their shape made Mordecai’s stomach lurch.
         Slowly the crowd began to rise up as the monster’s eyes glowed brighter. The pink vignette began to glow around his vision again. He felt his knees about to buckle beneath him but some force was keeping him upright, and it was making him hard. A terrifying pressure between his legs was alarmingly obvious now as he watched the crowd, all those faces he knew, began to dogpile all over each other. Hands grabbing, teeth biting and ripping off clothes. Assaulting each other.
         Some already had each other bent over tables, going so hard that there was blood already on the floor. Someone was scrambling over the bar to get at the bartender, the only one seemingly unaffected by whatever spell this was and screaming in terror.
Fuck. Fuck.
The monster watched it all happen, smiling that gross, self-satisfied smile. What was he looking at? What the fuck was he looking at!?
Ratchet--that was Ratchet? Oh, fuck.
Against his own will his body began to move towards the crowd. Blood was already slick along the floor and people were already slipping around all over each other. No. No! Turn back. Please, leave this place! Leave!
The noise rocked him to his core. Wet sounds of the terror shocked his heart still. Mordecai tried to force himself to break free from this hold. Nothing happened. He struggled against his urges. Nothing happened.; he continued to talk toward the horrifying, bloody orgy. Only able to move his eyes, he looked up at the monstrous woman orchestrating this--Ratchet. She was still smiling, watching him. Nodding encouragingly as he began to strip down, his mind screaming at his body to stop.
          No. No. No…!!


          Maybe that had been just a bit a bit overkill.
         Ratchet laid back, lounging over the pile of wet, bloody bodies. She wiped her hand down her face, smearing the watery red substance over her light brown skin. That was certainly something. Maybe it was possible she’d gotten carried away with this. Yeah, that was definite. No way she was going to hear the end of this. Eileen never shut up even when it happened in Ratchet’s own territory.
          She reached over and grabbed a hand, almost cut completely loose from its wrist during the carnage. With a firm tug and a meaty tear, it came free from its arm and she immediately started biting off the fingers like they were baby carrots.
         So many bodies. Too many bodies. Maybe next time she’d go easier--actually no. These assholes deserved what they got. They kidnapped women too. Ogled them, did things to them that was far worse than what Ratchet was even known for. If someone asked her what she thought about all this then--
         A harsh blow to the back of her head almost had her tumble to the bottom of the body pile. Ratchet dug her claws into one of the fatty torsos, blood squirting out as her nails cut cleanly through flesh and fat. Shrieking indignantly, she glared up at the culprit, ready to fight back even though she knew who it was.
         There she was, standing on top of the pile--Eileen Doherty, in her lovely grey poncho and spooky shadow eyes glaring right at the monster bird lady. Ratchet rubbed the back of her head, at first too angry and wanting to retaliate, but that quickly faded. She smiled at the much taller woman, and began to crawl back up the bodies. “What’s the matter, baby?” She dug the talons of her feet into the corpses beneath her and stood upright again, “Are you upset you didn’t get her before me?”
         Almost quicker than Ratchet was prepared for, the gun was in her face--and when Eileen pulled the trigger, the bullet went wide and struck the ceiling. An abyssal hand held the woman’s arm, shaking as it kept the gun away from Ratchet’s face.
         She tried not to seem shaken. Wow, Eileen was pissed this time. Ratchet took a breath and tried to play it off with a laugh, “Not even a hello? What happened, did Cody steal your lunch money again?”
         “This was my town!” Eileen seethed and tried to yank her hand away. Too angry to really have the control to break free. “You can’t come in and just--”
         “Cody’s pissed, Eileen. He’s not happy it took you so long to get here so he asked me to take care of it.”
         “So you destroyed an entire club!?” The rage on Eileen’s face could be felt. More hands sprouted up to try to grab at Eileen’s other wrist and both of her ankles, but in the time it took Ratchet to blink she was gone, free from the abyssal grasp. A metal arm quickly snagged around her throat, and the barrel of Eileen’s gun had been jabbed against the side of her head. “This was my town in my territory!”
          “Would you rather me come to Von Rue?” Ratchet cackled, but the sound was clearly fake, muddled by the strain in her voice. When she spoke again she tried to sound assertive, forewarning, but her voice clearly broke as she shrieked, “Y-you know what’ll happen if you kill me!”
          The arm tightened around her throat, cutting off her air and she was sure Eileen had stopped caring about him for once and that she was actually to die. Then, she felt Eileen’s hand in her hair and jerked her head back. Even from this angle, the look in those fiery orange eyes were clear-- “Cody can’t save you forever.”
          With a harsh, jerking motion from Eileen, Ratchet felt a harsh crack in her neck, and all sensation from the neck down fizzled out as she fell limply onto the pile of bodies. With a courtesy shove, she tumbled down the pile of bodies, limbs flailing, until she flopped face down on the bloody floor. A sharp pain shocked through her skull, and her vision went almost completely white.
          As her vision quickly began to fade back in, Ratchet felt her head swimming as she tried to--her arms weren’t moving. Her legs weren’t either; her limbs were dead--her entire body was dead. Gottdamn it!
         “Ugh! Eileen, pick me up!” But Eileen was already walking away, stumbling down the tangles of limbs and nearly slipping over the blood. “Eileen!!”
          “Shut up, you’re not even paralyzed. Just lay there a while and leave when you get feeling again.”
          Eileen was quickly out of sight, and just as quickly Ratchet heard the metal front door slam shut. Ratchet did her best to try to wiggle her fingers and toes, but all she got was pins and needles. Well. She was going to be here a while. There was no way she deserved this. To be here for like, five whole ass days in a stuffy building with all these dead bodies in a San Aguado summer.
         Fuck.
          “Fuck you, Eileen,” she called, “I know you can hear me! Fuck you!!”
         Cody would certainly be hearing about this. She wasn’t going to just take this bullshit laying down...