Angels or Demons

by Whtzombie

A disabled WW2 veteran struggling after years of drug abuse and homelessness seeks employment at a mob-run women's mental asylum in 1960's Vermont. Edit: I originally intended this to be a one-shot but I decided to write another story that could diverge from the movie and wrap everything up. So stay tuned.

Angels or Demons

By Eric H

I've looked at life from both sides now
From win and lose and still somehow
It's life's illusions I recall
I really don't know life at all

Joni Mitchell

Iggy blew on his free hand as he hobbled up the road. Rotten Taxi driver. The jerk couldn't make it one more damn mile? The second this place was in sight he stopped and ordered Iggy out. One would think being a disabled veteran would have earned him a little pity. They'll be hearing from him if he catches pneumonia.

The wrought iron fence ended with a long driveway flanked by an abandoned guard shack and topped with a corroded iron sign arch:

"LENNOX HOUSE BRATTLEBORO VERMONT" It sternly advised.

Iggy dropped the potato sack and his leg stump sighed with relief. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the crumpled, sweat-mushy piece of paper. This had all been arranged over the phone and the goon on the other end talked in barely coherent grunts. After a quick comparison, he nodded. Yup- this is the place.

Up the driveway loomed the gothic, gray-stoned building in all its depressing glory. He chuckled. What was he expecting? Bright Neon and pastel colors? This was a mental hospital after all. He shoved the paper back into his pocket, reclaimed the sack, and right on cue his stump screamed in protest. Along with it came throbbing from the track mark scars on his arms. His Demon was taunting him, inviting him back:

"Make the pain and world go away. One prick and you're free..." It whispered into his ear.

"Screw you." He hissed.

Iggy made his way up the driveway to the front gate. Another sign chiseled out of the same weathered stone as the rest of the place was posted beside the gate.

"LENNOX HOUSE for the Mentally Insane"

"It's a job. It's a job." Iggy whispered assuredly to himself. "Three hots and a cot. Would you prefer that alley back in Chicago?"

Luckily the gate was unlocked and standing open. He stepped through and carefully hobbled across the court, his pegleg scraping uneasily on the rain-slicked cobblestones. Getting around with this thing was relatively easy but with wet smooth surfaces, every step took concentration lest he take a spill.

Two rather intimidating fellows in business suits and sunglasses stood on the porch outside the front doors. Didn't orderlies in mental hospitals wear white? Peculiar.

"I'm here about the cook job?" He offered uneasily.

Without a word, the guards converged on him. One snatched the sack from his hand and dumped it on the ground while the other frisked him. Scattered on the porch lay all his worldly possessions: one extra pair of jockey shorts, one ball of tattered socks, three packs of ABC Cigarettes, and a crinkled brown paper bag. The goon took the paper bag and looked inside. He pulled out small bottles of spices, a garlic bulb, and half a roll of salami. It unscrewed one of the bottles and sniffed the contents.

"That's…"

The guard sneezed.

"Pepper?"

The other goon was patting down his thigh and found his wooden leg. He rapped on it with his thick knuckles.

"Who's there?"

It just grunted in confusion. No sense of humor; this was going to be real fun. They seemed satisfied and opened the tall wooden doors. Iggy gingerly gathered up everything, shoved them back into his sack, and slung it over his shoulder.

"Thanks"

He hobbled inside.

The receiving room was just as depressing as the exterior, perhaps more so. Olive green paint peeled everywhere, revealing the yellowed plaster underneath. At least it was warm and dry. Two more suited thugs sat behind the receiving desk. An iron gate leading to the back was off to the left.

"Help ya?" One grunted

"Yeah. I'm here about the cook job?"

"You're late." The other barked "We were expecting you this morning."

"Yeah, the cab wouldn't come any closer. I had to walk the last mile." He explained while rubbing his sore hip.

The pair snickered- obviously this wasn't unusual. The right one stood and pressed a button on the back wall.

"What?" The intercom crackled.

"Cook's here."

"About damn time. Send him in."

The guard pressed a button next to the intercom and the iron gate buzzed and swung open. Iggy hustled through the doorway and down the hall.

Flickering yellow ceiling lights made the pea-green paint look even worse. He came to another gate but this one was secured by a key lock. The guard standing by was reading a particularly lurid pulp novel.

"Iggy? I'm the new-"

The thug produced a key and unlocked the gate for him. Iggy continued and the guard followed him to yet another gate. He unlocked that one as well and held it open.

"He's in his office."

Here's hoping that was the last gate.

A young woman with short blond hair dressed in a drab gray one-piece dress was scrubbing the white linoleum floor. What kind of mental patient wears black high heels and sheer stockings? This wasn't a sanitarium at all. When Iggy heard the Mob was looking for a cook here, he really should have known better. But a paycheck was a paycheck he supposed and a man in his position can't afford to be choosy.

He shouldered the wall and made his way by carefully to avoid a nasty spill. As he passed the girl, she eyed him warily. He smiled and winked at her, but she just rolled her eyes and returned to her chore. Friendly bunch.

A door to the left was open and he peeked inside. A weaselly guy in a tailored white suit with a pencil-thin mustache and slicked-back hair was sitting behind a fancy wooden desk. Sitting next to him was a dark-skinned fellow. Iggy knocked on the doorframe.

"Get in here."

Compared to the rest of the place, the office was opulent. It sported a pool table and jukebox. A large map of this alleged asylum hung on the bulletin board behind the desk. The weasel eyed him.

"You're late."

"Yeah, sorry about that. The taxi-"

"Skip it." The weasel stood and approached. He reeked of pomade and cheap cologne. Iggy had dealt with people like this before: small-timers passing themselves off as big. A silver key hung from a chain around his neck.

"I'm Blue. This is my place." He said, looking Iggy in the eyes.

This was about right. The little guys always piss on everything to show they're the boss. Best play this cool.

"Igor?" He asked.

"Iggy."

"Suit yourself. C'mon." He nodded strutting by.

Iggy followed him down the hallway. More young girls also in provocative outfits like the floor scrubbers watched them but kept their distance. Blue commanded a lot of fear here.

"The boys in Chicago say you're one helluva cook." Blue mentioned.

"My folks ran a restaurant there. Taught me everything I know."

"They also said you know how to keep your mouth shut."

From what he had seen here so far, it was excellent advice.

"Snitches get stitches- Chicago's motto"

"You'll get more than stitches if you rat me out. I hate rats." Blue warned.

They found the kitchen.

"Geez." Iggy choked. The stench of onions, body odor, and God-knows-what was so thick it created a fetid fog that hung over the room. The range, floors even the light bulbs were gray and dingy. When was the last time this place was properly cleaned? Probably not in his lifetime.

Sitting in the only chair was a morbidly obese bald fellow in sweat-stained chef's whites wolfing down a huge onion sandwich. He noticed Iggy and the others.

"What the Hell is this?" The cook asked spitting bits of food everywhere.

Blue turned to Iggy.

"Make me an omelet."

"What kind?"

"Surprise me. No onions."

Iggy dropped the sack and fished out the paper bag. He hobbled over to the racks of pots, took two relatively clean pans, and placed them on the lit burners. He stepped inside the cold case and reappeared with some eggs, a brick of mozzarella, and a stick of butter. From the larder, he took a bottle of cooking oil. He grabbed a mixing bowl and deftly cracked the eggs, carefully placing the shells off to the side. After thorough whisking, he added a little water from the tap.

"I need a knife." Iggy advised while squirting some of the oil onto one of the pans.

Blue's assistant grabbed a knife from the cook's belt and handed it to him. With deft strokes, Iggy made short work of the cheese and salami. He took the small pile of salami and placed it in the pan where it sauteed. What was it about the smell of salami? It was always Iggy's favorite. He broke off a piece of garlic from the bulb and crushed it into mush with the side of his knife. He then took a small portion of the crushed garlic with the knife tip and added it to the sautéing salami. A wonderful smell quickly trumped the fetid stink of the kitchen.

"Damn! What's he making?" Blue's assistant gasped.

Iggy sliced off a pat of butter and tossed it onto the other pan where it immediately melted and bubbled. He poured the eggs onto the buttered pan and added the sauteed salami and garlic, a portion of the sliced cheese along with a shake from his supply of spices.

Some of the girls including the floor scrubber had gathered around the doorway. They chatted excitedly. And why not? Actual pleasant scents coming from this kitchen were probably a rarity. Iggy folded the omelet. He took the pan off the burner and flipped the omelet into the air, effortlessly letting it land back into the pan, eliciting oohs and aahs from his audience. Iggy normally hated using such theatrics, but he really needed the job; the taxi ride (such as it was) had bankrupted him.

Iggy slid the finished omelet onto a waiting dinner plate and sprinkled the remaining cheese on top. He grabbed a fork and presented both to Blue. The weasel gave it a curious sniff then cut off a corner with the fork and shoved it into his eager gob. As Blue chewed, his beady eyes looked about and formulated a critique. He then swallowed.

"Get him outta here." Blue ordered while gesturing to the old cook.

"WHAT?!"

His guards obediently grabbed the guy by his pudgy arms and hauled him up to his feet.

"Get his knives." Blue barked.

They fiddled with the belt buckle, making his huge gut jiggle. Onlookers stifled laughter at the sight.

"You prick! You can't do this." He protested.

"I told you to cut it with the onions. No more damn onions! I can't even look at the things without getting sick." Blue returned.

They tore off the cook's knife belt and handed it to Blue. He took it and gestured towards the door.

"I'll go to the cops! I'll tell everyone what goes on here-"

"And I'll tell them about those little girls in New York, Chicago, Atlanta..." Blue returned.

The now unemployed cook bowed his head in defeat as they dragged him through the swinging doors. The girls stepped back and watched with amusement. Blue turned back to Iggy.

"Okay here's the deal." Blue said tossing Iggy the knife belt, nearly knocking him to the ground. "I want that every morning and steak for lunch and dinner."

"How do you want them?" Iggy offered.

"Hmm?"

"Well done, rare…"

"Just walk it through a warm room. I want it bloody."

"And them?" Iggy asked nodding to the gathering of girls and staff in the doorway. Blue immediately turned to them.

"What the Hell is this? GET BACK TO WORK!"

The crowd quickly disbursed. Blue's serpent smile returned.

"They get hash."

"Gotcha."

Blue snapped his fingers and they disappeared through the double doors. Iggy inspected the kitchen. Cripes what a pigsty! Caked-on crud covered the oven and burners. All those years of cooking on the front lines no one ever got sick- he sure as Hell wasn't going to start now. He grabbed a scrub brush and went to work.

Later….

It took hours to get the place back in some semblance of shape. More than a few cockroaches and rats were homeless now. And when was the last time the grease trap got cleaned out? It was a miracle the place hadn't had a cholera outbreak yet. Still, all was copasetic now.

He checked the clock. Dinner service wasn't for a while yet. Iggy settled into the chair, lit a smoke, and thumbed through the cookbook. Geez! Everything here is so damn bland. And what's with all the potatoes? No wonder everyone here is so agitated. He would have to liven things up.

A group passed by the round kitchen door windows. A pigtailed young lady with large sad eyes was being escorted by a uniformed priest and a couple of guards. The entourage paused and she turned to him. The pain in her young face broke his heart. He smiled assuredly but it had no effect. The group moved on. He could just shake his head and return to his reading. Iggy was beginning to wish this place really was a mental hospital; any more of this and he's going to be needing a shrink himself.

...….

The doors swung open and the floor scrubber reappeared.

"So? What am I doing?" She sighed.

"Hmm?"

"I work in the kitchen. What am I doing?" She reiterated.

It was an hour before dinner. Best get it started.

"What did he normally have you do?"

"Peel potatoes."

"Do you like peeling potatoes?"

"Umm…no?"

"We'll have to find something better for ya then."

He crushed out his cigarette and pushed himself out of the chair. He took one of the huge soup pots and placed it on the range's largest burner.

"What did he usually put in it?" He asked the girl.

"Ida know. Whatever was left after making dinner for Blue and the others. Mostly potatoes and onions."

"Any good?"

The girl just sneered in disgust. Enough said.

"Why didn't you complain?"

"No one complains here- you live longer that way."

What the Hell has he gotten himself into? This was getting creepier by the moment. Iggy hobbled to the larder and gestured for her to follow.

"What's your name, girlie?" He asked.

"Rocket."

He stopped and turned to her.

"Your real name."

"Rocket" she repeated.

He sighed sadly and continued.

"I'm Igor but people call me Iggy."

"What kind of name is Iggy? She laughed.

"What kind of name is Rocket?" He retorted.

No response. He let it drop. They stepped inside the larder and Iggy studied the shelf contents.

"Damn. Not much of a choice, eh?" He asked no one in particular.

Bland, blander and blandest seemed to be the rule here. Still, there were some opportunities. Forgoing the potatoes and onions, he gathered up some spice cans. Hmm…vegetables. How about carrots? He took a healthier-looking bunch and tossed them to Rocket.

"Chop those up?"

He also took a clump of Celery and a half dozen large cans of beef broth. He turned to see Rocket holding the carrots and staring at him disgruntled.

"Something wrong, girlie?"

"Uh? I need something to cut them up with?"

Iggy realized his mistake. As harmless as the kid seemed, sharp knives were out of the question. If he got caught giving her one, it could be bad news for both. He opened drawers until he found a butter knife.

"Here ya go." He said handing it to her handle first.

She gave it a disbelieving look.

"Yeah, sorry kid. Do your best."

While Rocket threw herself into her seemingly impossible task, Iggy set to work on Blue's dinner. He returned to the cold case and took a steak from its row of fellows. The cow that gave its life probably smelled better and possessed superior social skills than the creep eating it.

"How're those carrots com-oh."

The poor girl was struggling valiantly to cut through the carrot with that butter knife. Sadly, the only result so far was carrot pudding. Time to make a command decision.

"How did you wind up here, kid?"

She turned away from the mutilated carrots and rubbed her aching hands.

"Hell do you care?"

"Just answer the question."

Rocket huffed, folded her arms, and leaned against the cupboard. Lots of chutzpah in this one. She rolled her eyes again.

"I ran away, okay? They caught my sister and me and dumped us here."

"Nothing violent?"

"Umm, no?"

Iggy took one of the smaller knives off his belt and handed it to her. She stepped back, in shock from the gesture.

"I've always considered myself a good judge of character, Rocket. I think I can trust you. Am I wrong?"

She silently took the knife and immediately returned to her carrots. He will take that as a no.

"Don't let me down, kid."

Iggy took another knife and started on the celery.

"If Blue catches me with this, he'll kill us." She whispered conspiratorially.

"Best hurry then."

Rocket effortlessly obliterated the carrots and tossed them into the pot by the handful and Iggy matched it with his own of celery. Her chopping rate increased in response. A race, eh? He hurried his chopping too. He finished a bunch and tossed a double handful into the pot. Rocket matched it. Someone was going to lose a finger at this rate.

"Is this why they call you Rocket?"

"Yeah."

Iggy finished annihilating another stalk and added it to the pot.

"Is your sister as ballsy as you?"

"More."

"Scary thought"

Later…

Iggy set the loaded plate before Blue. He took his knife and fork and looked the plate over.

"Rare?"

"Still breathing." Iggy confirmed.

Blue dug in. He seemed satisfied.

"Umm? What's with that girl they brought in?" Iggy asked.

"What girl?" Blue grunted through a mouth full of steak and carrots.

"Pigtails."

"Oh. Church brought her. Why? Did you want a throw? Well, forget it. Baby Doll's flower is being saved for the High Roller. She'll bring me a fortune. How about Rocket? I saw you two talking. I'll take it out of your pay."

Did this creep seriously just offer up Rocket to him? Dear God.

"Hmm? Naw. Just wondering." Iggy improvised.

He had no interest in sleeping with Rocket or any of the other girls. Aside from the age difference and karmic issues, there were physical considerations too. His leg wasn't the only thing that bomb took.

Dinner time…

Back in his school days, Iggy read Oliver Twist (tried to anyway). One look at Blue's drab and depressing dining hall brought about a screaming case of DeJa'Vu. The furniture consisted of simple long wooden tables arranged in orderly rows with backless wooden benches. Nothing on the walls save for peeling paint and mysterious stains. The stench of onions hung thick here too.

Iggy hauled in the huge steaming pot of stew while Rocket followed with a platter of sliced bread and a plate of butter patties. The bread was pre-sliced and came in a plastic bag- a spit in his face. Tomorrow he will bake some fresh. It beats the crap out of this mass-produced store-bought junk.

The girls and staff had already formed an orderly line, bowls at the ready. The stew's aroma elicited excited chatter from the drooling crowd. He set the pot on the table. If this wasn't enough, he had more in the back. Rocket set her tray by the pot and handed Iggy his ladle.

"Come and get it." He announced to the room, banging the side of the pot with his ladle.

Their elderly janitor Harold was the first in line. Iggy scooped up a healthy portion of vegetables and broth and carefully put it in his bowl. He examined it and gasped.

"Beef?"

"Yup"

Iggy found half a beef roast in the freezer. It was easy enough to heat it up and add it.

"But we never get beef."

"Doughboy is gone. Everyone gets beef now." Iggy advised

Was the old guy tearing? Rocket handed him a slice of bread and some butter.

"God bless you." He sniffled and walked away with his loaded bowl.

A young Asian girl also in a drab gray dress, high heels, and sheer stockings stepped up and Iggy filled her bowl.

"No onions or potatoes?" She asked.

"Not a speck. I can add some if you like... "

"NO! This is great, thanks." She fervently insisted.

Rocket gave her a slice of bread and they traded smirks.

….

Iggy smiled with pride as happy chatter and laughter filled the dining hall. It's amazing how decent food can lighten people's moods. After all these years Iggy feared he may have lost his touch. His mother would be so proud of him- the cooking part not the "working for the mob" thing.

Another line formed for seconds, the janitor leading the way again.

"Can I have some more?" He managed through a wide smile.

Iggy obediently ladled another helping into his bowl, and he hustled back to his spot on the bench. This continued until there was nary a drop left.

He felt bad for not providing some sort of dessert though. Perhaps some cookies? His mother had a recipe for chocolate chip cookies that made the neighborhood kids drool. Back during his school days, he used to take a couple of extra with him to sell for pocket money.

Pigtails was conspicuously absent. The prospect of having her virginity being sold to some pervert would kill anyone's appetite.

…

The population was fed, the crockery was spotless (thanks to his spunky sidekick Rocket), and all was serene in Iggy's kingdom. All his knives were back in their proper place too; he knew Rocket was a good kid. He turned off the kitchen lights and yawned wide. That cot was going to feel heavenly.

Tapping of his peg was the only noise in the sleeping halls. Iggy was just passing the lady's room when he heard weeping from inside. Did he dare? It wouldn't hurt to peek. Iggy opened the door and poked his head inside. Baby Doll was sitting on the floor, tears pouring down her blushing face. He stepped inside.

"You okay, Pigtails?" He offered.

She looked at him with her red, tear-filled eyes but didn't offer a response. Holding onto the sink he carefully lowered himself down to the bathroom floor and slid up beside her.

"Yeah, I hear ya kid. "He sighed. "I'd be cryin' too if my tears hadn't all dried up."

He pulled out his half empty pack of cigs.

"Smoke?"

She shook her head.

"Good for you."

He lit it and they sat quietly in the dark.

"Wanna talk about it? I'm a good listener."

Another headshake. The silence continued save for her sniffling. Iggy so dearly wanted to help her. Finally, he just chimed in.

"World likes to kick ya when you're down, hmm?"

"You don't know anything about me." She whispered, wiping her eyes.

"No. But I do know what it feels like to hit bottom."

He took a deep cleansing drag off his cig.

"My folks ran a restaurant in Chicago. We had the best damn food in Illinois. People used to come from miles around to eat there. Even the mob loved our food. I used to run home from school every day to help cook. Great times."

Iggy took another drag off his cig.

"I was fifteen when Ma died from the fever. Me and Pa tried to keep the place going but things just weren't the same without her. Some punk tried to rob us, and Pa fought back. He died over a lousy fifty cents."

Another long drag. He could hear his lungs begging him to stop.

"I was alone, just like you. I had no family left so I lied about my age and joined the Army. I figured it was safe right? Get paid to see the world? Free food and a bed? What more could I ask for, right? And besides: who would be stupid enough to pick a fight with the good ol US of A?" He chuckled sadly.

He took one last drag from his cig and tossed it into one of the stalls. Did it land in the bowl? Who cared?

"Then the Japanese decided to bomb Pearl Harbor and I got shipped off to places I'd never heard of before. Lucky for me they noticed early on I wasn't much of a soldier, and they put me on as a cook. And ya know? I was good at it. I could take a case of forty-year-old C Rations and make the most incredible shit. They loved it too."

Pigtails was listening now.

"We were in the middle of lunch when the mess hall got bombed. I managed to duck under the table before the place went up. Lucky right? Yeah. I came to in the middle of some quack cutting off my leg."

His stump throbbed in response to his spiel. He rubbed it like an obedient dog.

"They put me on Morphine, and I stayed on it. It pushed the world away and that was fine by me. I didn't care about a damn thing except my next fix."

Her hand found his and he squeezed it.

"They sent me home a gimped dopehead. The doctors in the VA didn't give a crap about me. Truth was? I didn't either. They needed the bed for people they could actually help so they kicked me out. I wound up living in an alley not even a block away from where our restaurant used to be. The big guy has a real sick sense of humor, hmm? I was there for about as long as you've been alive, Pigtails. Stoned out of my mind and sleeping in a pool of my own piss."

Apparently, his tears had not dried up after all. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Then SHE found me."

"Who?" Baby Doll asked with genuine interest.

"My Angel. She was the only one in this screwed-up world that gave a shit about me and I loved her for it. She cleaned me up and got me off the junk. That was over a year ago and I've been free ever since."

The bathroom fell silent as she digested his story.

"Truth is, Pigtails? Angels and Demons exist. They don't come from Heaven, Hell, or any place like that. They can be anyone or come from anywhere. Even from inside you. I'm living proof. Pigtails? You need to decide what's inside you: Angels or Demons. Because one can lift you to salvation and the other will drag you down to Hell. It's all up to you."

Iggy hauled himself back to his feet.

"Hungry? I can fix you a sammich or something." He asked, offering her his hand.

She took it and stood. The duo made their way back to the kitchen. He patted her on the back.

"So, what do ya want on it? Ham? Turkey?"

"Salami?"

"You got it, kid."

Iggy swore a silent oath: No way in Hell will the High Roller or anyone else ever touch her.

That next afternoon…

Lunch was over. Iggy busied himself scribbling changes to the cookbook while Baby Doll scrubbed the hallway floor. Now she grinned whenever they made eye contact. It was the only ray of hope in this dump.

Rocket appeared dragging a huge burlap sack of potatoes. More? Blue must be buying them by the truckload. No wonder people are so sick of them.

"You've got to be kidding." Iggy moaned.

She just responded with a strained grunt. That thing probably weighed more than she did. The girl dragged it a few feet and paused to take a breath.

"Need help?" He offered.

"I've got it." She stubbornly assured him.

She managed to get it another foot and stopped again. Iggy closed the book and stood. The poor kid was going to give herself a hernia or worse. He grabbed the sack.

"I've got it." She insisted.

He tried again…

"I SAID I'VE GOT IT!" She roared.

Her sudden ferocity made him step back.

"Sorry kid. Just tryin' to help ya."

She took the sack and continued.

"Thanks anyway." She muttered.

The girl and her sack disappeared into the larder. Iggy just shrugged and returned to his chair and the cookbook. He became acutely aware of the silence and glanced back at the larder. The girl hadn't reappeared yet. Had she hurt herself? He had visions of her being crushed under an avalanche of potatoes. Death by spud? That would make for an interesting headline.

He stood yet again and hobbled over to the larder doorway. Rocket was sneaking a piece of baking chocolate out of the box.

"Umm?"

Like a deer in the headlights, she saw him and immediately froze. God only knows how his predecessor would have dealt with this.

"If you wanted a piece, kiddo, all you had to do was ask."

Rocket calmed.

"Just give me the wrapper. They probably search the garbage."

Iggy took it and shoved it into his pants pocket. For the first time since they met, she grinned. It was nice to see her tough exterior crack even if it was just for a second.

A buzzer echoed throughout the building.

"Practice. Gotta go."

Rocket grabbed Baby Doll and they trotted off.

The halls were empty now. Iggy checked the clock. There were still a few hours before dinner service, so why not take advantage and explore the place? Besides, his curiosity was getting the better of him. Between the armed thugs, the population of young girls, and the mention of this mysterious "High Roller", he was aching to see what was really going on here. All the guards and staff knew him by now and shouldn't give him a second thought.

He left the kitchen and clomped down the hallway.

The Hallway ended with a fancy set of wooden double doors. He pushed them open. A nightclub! When the powers that be sent him, they were pretty damn glib on what went on here. All he was told was that the money was good, to follow Blue's orders, and keep his mouth shut. Considering how the girls were dressed, He supposed a club made sense. What else was going on here? His curiosity was becoming unbearable.

A red curtained stage dominated the far side of the club and to the right of it was an area for the band.

Immediately to his right against the back wall sat a full bar. He examined the shelves of hooch. Not bad. A wide selection of stuff here- Vodka, malt whiskey, Rye, cognac, all the standards. Hmm, the expensive stuff was set on the top shelf, the moderately priced hooch was towards the middle, and the dime store rotgut took up the bottom. Did Blue water it down? Not the good stuff certainly. Just below the bar counter was a row of beer taps. Iggy had never been much of a drinker, but under the circumstances, he wouldn't have minded a big frosty mug of imported beer. European stuff was so much better than the weak domestic brands.

Round pub tables dotted the floor and booths were strategically set around the perimeter. He pulled out one of the chairs and settled in. Iggy imagined the place filled with drunken criminals drinking expensive whiskey, smoking Cuban cigars, and drooling at the girls dancing on the stage. The notion of Rocket and Pigtails being leered at by those bastards made him furious. Was it fatherly instincts he was feeling? A bit alien for an impotent ex-junkie.

A large area to the club's left side was a variety of poker tables. Iggy pushed himself out of the chair and hobbled across the club to look them over. Blackjack, Craps. High Stakes Poker and Roulette stations stood ready to suck up their patron's cash. Were they fixed? He gave the Roulette wheel a push and it effortlessly spun. "Round around it goes…" He snickered. As it spun, he felt below the dealer's station for buttons, switches, or other sneaky devices. Ah ha! Right behind the lip below the edge. He pressed it and the wheel began to slow. With a little practice, he could make the marble fall on any space he wanted. Pretty ballsy cheating a room full of armed criminals.

How the Hell was Blue able to hide all this? For an operation this big, the corruption must go far beyond the front gates.

There was another set of doors on the right side of the nightclub. Iggy left the casino and made his way between the tables and across the club floor. A bank teller-type booth with a cash register was set up by the doors. Numbered room keys hung off pegs on the booth's back wall.

He tested the doors and they easily opened. Numbered doors lined the hallway and whiffs of cheap perfume and sex filled the air. The walls were done up in a gaudy pseudo-Asian style motif. Blood red flower-patterned wallpaper and dime store Asian prints slathered the walls and a heavily worn red carpet covered the floor. Blue must have decided on the theme- that twerp has lousy taste in everything.

Mystery solved: the place was a Cat House. It explained everything- from the girl's weird nicknames to Pigtails being fed to the High Roller. The patrons watched the show, decided on a girl, and paid for a throw at the register. The girls were just pieces of meat for Blue to exploit.

He opened the first hallway door. The interior decorations were of the same oriental theme and just as hard on the eyes as the hallway. And this was supposed to get people in the mood? Taking up most of the space was a round bed covered in a shiny red bedspread and brightly colored pillows. He noticed a switch just inside the door. He flipped it and the bed began to rotate. Iggy was no expert on interior decorating but even he thought this was ugly as shit.

"What're you doing in here?"

Iggy turned to face one of Blue's thug guards.

"I was just looking for Blue. I need to ask what he wants for dinner."

The name-dropping worked. The guards relaxed.

"He's in the studio. Through those doors and to the left." He said standing aside and gesturing down to the far end of the bordello hallway.

"Thanks, buddy." Iggy smiled and walked away.

Iggy had never thought of himself as a quick thinker (or any kind of thinker for that matter) but for some reason, being amidst all this debauchery and danger has sharpened his guffing skills. And he had to admit, this was kind of exciting. He just came here to cook and now he was smack dab in a full-fledged mafia caper. This would make one Hell of a pulp.

…...

"Wow" He managed

Young leotarded ladies with all manner of skin and hair colors watched as an older, conservatively dressed woman carefully walked a blond girl through a complicated dance step.

Ah if he were a younger man and had all his faculties. Now he could only look at the display and feel depressed. And judging by his pathetic reflection in the studio's mirrored wall, it was doubtful any of them would be interested in him anyway.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight…" The older woman carefully cadenced with a tap of her cane.

The girl looked distracted.

"Stop." The woman ordered.

She looked the girl in the eyes.

"Where are you right now?" She barked in a thick Polish accent. "Are you with us or not?"

No answer.

"Sweet Pea take break. Yeah."

Her student rejoined the group of spectators. The older woman noticed him.

"Who are you? You're not allowed in here."

Everything screeched to a halt and the girls turned to him. This was awkward.

"I'm the new cook. Just looking for Blue about today's menu."

"Oh, very well." She dismissed.

And he gets himself out of yet another jam- this was getting easy. Rocket and Pig Tails appeared beside him and they traded nods. The old woman noticed the new arrival.

Baby Doll? Come over here. Come, come." The woman beckoned.

The girl reluctantly stepped forward.

"Let me look at you.".

She examined Baby Doll with an experienced eye and nodded knowingly. The smell of cheap cologne assailed his nose- uh oh. Sure enough, Blue and his goon squad appeared as well. He must douse himself in that crap.

"You seem fit enough. I am going to play some music, okay? And I want you to just relax, feel the music, open your heart to it, let it in. And when you are ready, I want you to dance."

She switched on the reel-to-reel player. The dance music started but Pigtails remained still. Gorski turned off the music and whispered into the girl's ear. Iggy couldn't hear what was being said but from her demeanor, the woman looked to be giving Baby Doll a pep talk. She had actual concern for the girls under her? It was the first hint of compassion Iggy had seen in the staff so far.

"Again." The woman stepped back, restarted the music, and tapped her cane.

Baby Doll entered what could best be described as some form of self-induced trance. The girl's small body began to gyrate, and twist making it appear seemingly boneless. Her eyes focused on the distance. Save for the music and Baby Doll's moans, the room fell silent. Blue, his entourage as well as all the other studio occupants were mesmerized by the sight. If not for his injury, Iggy might have been caught in her spell too. Now he just felt left out.

The music ended, shaking Pigtails and the room out of their shared trance. After a second of silence, applause erupted, and the girls gathered around Baby Doll to congratulate her. Even their stern instructor clapped. The now coherent Blue turned to Iggy.

"What're you doing here?" He asked.

"Did you want carrots or broccoli?"

"Broccoli."

"Right." Iggy saluted.

Before leaving he made eye contact with Pigtails. She smirked at him devilishly- some monkey business was afoot. Iggy laughed all the way back to the kitchen.

Later…

"Shit."

With his modifications of the cookbook complete, he was now attempting to jot down some of his mother's old recipes. She had a wonderful recipe for Chicken Soup, but he couldn't for the life of him remember the damn ingredients. His mother had been an entirely "by scratch" cook and had written nothing down. Was it age or dope-induced brain damage that was causing his mental block? Most likely it was his surreal surroundings. Who could think straight surrounded by armed mobsters and victimized girls?

A fist pounded the table, jerking Iggy out of his train of thought. It was Gorski's distracted student. Her eyes blazed with a rage he hadn't seen outside of a Disney flick.

"Leave her alone." The Blond snarled through clenched teeth.

"What!? Who?"

"Rocket."

Moxie must run in the family.

"And you're her sister?"

"Sweet Pea." She sternly advised.

Iggy burst out laughing, taking the girl off guard. Who the Hell came up with the names here? Was Blue even trying to be serious or just going for laughs?

"I don't care what you do with Baby Doll but leave Rocket alone."

"What did I do?"

"Giving her candy. Stringing her along-"

Now this confrontation made sense; she was trying to protect her sister from his alleged advances. Considering what he had seen so far from the other men here, her concern was completely justified. But how could he possibly convince her he had no intentions?

"I have no interest in her." Iggy assured.

"Bullshit. You all want the same thing. She might have fallen for your crap, but I can-"

Obviously, finesse wasn't going to work here. He stood and faced her. Sweet Pea's stern expression had not changed. She could have given his mother lessons in intimidation.

"I have no goddamn interest in your sister, Baby Doll, or any of the other girls. Ever occur to you that someone in this dump might just give a shit about her?"

He pulled out the chair and gestured for her to sit. She crossed her arms and sneered.

"SIT!" He roared.

She still refused. He kicked the seat away with his good foot.

"Fine. Stand. Fuck I care. Now look: she wanted a piece of candy and I let her have it. What was I supposed to do? Slap her around? Jump her? I would never do that. She's a good kid."

She studied his face. Finally, the truth hit, and her rage subsided. Iggy took the chair and offered it to Sweet Pea again. This time she slumped into it and sighed in resignation. Iggy reclaimed his composure too and sat on the table.

"A real handful hmm?" He offered.

"You have no idea."

"So, what happened? Rocket said she ran away."

"She got into a fight with mom and dad and ran off. I followed to try and bring her back but the cops grabbed us and sold us to Blue."

And yet another reason to hate that weasel. The list was becoming quite long.

"She's just so damn impulsive." She moaned "I've had to follow her around since we were kids to keep her out of trouble. See where it got me? She's still making my life Hell even after all this."

"Have you tried to get in touch with your folks? Call them?"

"Blue controls everything here. Mail, the phone, everything. I haven't seen them in years. They must be worried sick."

"Has anyone ever tried to escape?"

"Yeah, A couple of times. Blue sees to it they never try again."

Iggy blushed.

"He killed them?" He gasped.

Sweet Pea just nodded. Dear God, he was in Hell.

"Look. I'm not one of Blue's goons, okay? I'll do everything I can to keep her safe. You're not alone here, kid. If there's anything you girls need, you let me know. Okay?"

The kitchen doors swung open and Rocket appeared. She saw Sweet Pea and Iggy.

"What's going on?"

"We're having mashed potatoes tonight and I needed an extra potato peeler. Sweet Pea drew the short straw." He explained.

"Yeah. Lucky me." She sighed with mock irritation.

That next evening…

The club was open for business tonight. This will be the ultimate test for Iggy's skills. Can he keep up with the volume of orders while at the same time maintaining the trademark Nelson quality? Back in his parent's restaurant, teamwork was the secret for their success during busy times but now he was going entirely solo.

He had materials ready for everything on the menu and extra stuff to improvise just about anything. There were a variety of meats defrosting and pots with Marinara and Alfredo simmering. The town bakery had delivered a huge selection of bread, pies, and cakes this morning too. He was, as they used to say in the Army: "squared away".

Iggy decided to take advantage of his last free moments of peace and slop out the larder. Considering his predecessor's lack of hygiene, he suspected his organizational skills might have been lacking too but he never thought it would be this bad! So much of this stuff was years out of date and had to be trashed. Even if his customers were criminals, the last thing he needed was to give one of them a case of the squirts.

He found another box of soda crackers a year out of date. He tossed it into the garbage can with its half dozen siblings along with jars of mustard that had turned a lovely turquoise and potentially lethal jars of three-year-old mayonnaise. His mother would plotz if her pantry was this disorganized.

A knock.

He turned to find Blue's goon CJ at the larder door.

"Staff meeting." He advised. "let's go."

…...

Blue, along with all the waitresses, bartender, stagehands, and band were already gathered in the club. Miss Gorski and Baby Doll were there too. Blue noticed Iggy's arrival and clapped to get everyone's attention.

"Okay." He announced to the group. "Big show tonight. Lots of important people so let's make them all feel welcome. Our business here is pleasure and let's all make sure business is good. Madame Gorski. How do my girls look tonight?"

"Great as always." She nodded.

He turned to Rufus the bartender.

"Plenty of booze?"

"Plenty sir."

"Good. Remember: the higher-ups get the good stuff. Lower guys get the cheap shit, and the grunts get the watered-down crap."

"Yes sir."

Blue then faced the band. Before the creep could say a word, the dark-skinned Saxophone player stepped forward. "All tuned and ready to go." He smiled. Iggy sensed the band hated Blue more than he did.

"You got the song requests?" Blue added.

"Standard stuff. Easy."

Blue turned to Iggy.

"You have a copy of the menu. But beyond that- they want it, you make it. Got it?"

"No problem," Iggy assured him.

He lastly faced Baby Doll.

"You, new girl, have clean-up. After my girls are done with their clients, gather up the used towels and sheets and take them to the laundry."

Iggy could plainly see the girl's look of disgust at the notion of having to deal with baby batter-splattered towels and linen.

"Um, sir?"

Blue turned back to him.

"If it's going to be a busy night, I'm going to need an assistant."

"Yeah?" He acknowledged.

"Can I use her?" He asked nodding towards Baby Doll. "Best keep her out sight until the big night, right?"

The thug thought for a second and nodded.

"Yeah. Good idea. Baby Doll? You're with Iggy. Harold? You have clean up instead."

The old janitor looked crestfallen and sickened. "Thank you, sir."

"Any questions?" He asked the group.

There were none.

"Then let's make some mon, err, dreams come true."

The meeting disbanded. Iggy and Baby Doll returned to the kitchen.

"Thanks." She whispered to him.

"Don't thank me yet." He chuckled "Tonight's going to royally suck."

…...

Suck? More like a shit show. Even from back in the kitchen, they could hear the bedlam coming from the club. The music combined with the shouting from the patrons made it sound more like a riot. Occasionally there were gunshots too. He worried for the girls having to deal with those freaks. At least Baby Doll was away from that mess.

The girl was attacking the endless river of food and drool-covered plates with her usual stubborn gusto. She also kept the pots of sauce stirred and monitored the oven when Iggy was busy with other things.

A waitress appeared with another meal ticket.

"Three steaks rare with baked potatoes and Broccoli."

What's with Mobsters and undercooked meat? Must be some sort of sick symbolism. He set up three plates. Luckily he had everything ready. All need be done was to broil the steak and bake the potatoes. He took three steaks and placed them on the pan. Rare steaks only take a few minutes so best do that last. Three tinfoil-wrapped spuds went into the oven.

Baby Doll was working on a stack of plates taller than her (which wasn't saying much).

"How you doin, Kiddo?" He asked her.

"Fine." She said resolutely.

Iggy doubted her words. He gently pulled her hands out of the hot sudsy water and checked them. They looked like bleached five-fingered prunes. She also had several cuts on her fingers.

"Take five." He advised, patting her on the back. "See to those cuts."

"I'm fine." She sternly insisted.

Before he could offer a retort, another waitress appeared.

"Table six wants to see you."

"Why? Did someone get sick?"

"No."

"Did they not like it?"

"They ate it, so I doubt that."

"Tell 'em I'm busy, then." He huffed and returned to his work.

"They slipped me a hundred to come get you- I don't think we have a choice. They're real scumbags even for this place."

He sighed sadly.

"Alright. Pigtails? Give the steaks another five minutes and potatoes ten, yes? And keep stirring the sauces- don't let them stick."

She quietly left the pile of dishes and took her station by the oven. Iggy slipped off his apron and tossed it on the table.

"If you don't hear from me by tomorrow, assume the worst."

He followed the waitress out of the kitchen and down the hallway.

"Which ones were they?" He asked.

"The Chicken Fried Steaks."

The order was odd. They were a specialty at his parent's restaurant but weren't on the club's menu. To make it he had to dip into his private stash of spices.

The club was a rowdy mess. The air was full of cigarette smoke and his ears rang from the jazz music and drunken conversations. A huge crowd was gathered around the poker tables.

The Girls in blue sequined teddies pranced about on stage in practiced time to the music while Sweet Pea, in an even more revealing costume, danced front and center. Iggy recognized Rocket in the background dancers. They were smiling at the hooting spectators, but it was all an act- like the rest of the place. Sweet Pea noticed him, and they exchanged nods. The cashier's booth by the bordello doors looked to be doing good business too.

"Iggy? Over here."

The waitress led him to a booth with three seedy-looking men. One was so fat, the table had to be pushed away so his belly could fit.

"Here he is." She told the trio.

They eyed Iggy carefully and burst out laughing.

"Son of a bitch. It's him." One of the skinny thugs chuckled.

"You're Maggie's kid, right?" The fat one asked.

Maggie was his mother's name.

"Um yeah?"

"Don't recognize me?" The fat one prodded.

Between the music and cigarette smoke, it was hard to concentrate. They did look familiar.

"Fat Tony?"

They laughed.

"That was pop."

Now he placed him. This was his little prick of a kid, Paulie. The only reason the twerp didn't get beaten on a regular basis was due to his father being the boss of the neighborhood. Best play this by the book- Blue was watching.

"Paulie?"

"Yeah! I took over for pop after he died five years ago."

Stood to reason. Instead of paying protection, his parents kept their business safe by keeping Tony fed. The slob would down four Chicken Fried Steaks every day. It's kind of surprising he lived that long- the guy couldn't breathe without breaking a sweat

"I'm sorry to hear that. He was a good man." Iggy blatantly lied.

"We thought you were dead. After the restaurant closed you just disappeared."

"I joined the Army."

"Oh. Whacking Nazis instead, eh?"

"They got me first." He smirked, rapping his fist on his leg.

The trio laughed.

"Whenever we come here, I order the Chick Fried Steaks but they always tasted like crap. I took one bite of this and knew there was a Nelson in the house."

"I appreciate it. What some more?"

"Naw. We're stuffed. Besides, we got some fun lined up don't we, boys?"

The skinny guys smiled and nodded like good, trained monkeys.

"What's the broad's name, Tony?" Paulie asked one of his cronies.

He obediently pulled out a yellow ticket and struggled to read it. The scumbag probably flunked out of kindergarten.

"Rocket."

"Oh yeah. She's gonna get some rockets alright."

Iggy struggled to keep his smile. The idea of these animals having their way with that girl made him physically ill.

"Well, have a good time." He managed.

"Oh, we will. Here:"

Paulie handed Iggy a couple of hundred-dollar bills. Iggy took them and pasted on his best egg suck smile as he stuffed the sweat-soaked bills into his pocket.

"Whatever they're paying you, it isn't enough. I'm talkin' to Blue. He's got a national treasure here."

"I gotta be getting back..."

"Yeah sure. You here now?"

"As long as Blue'll have me."

"Good. We'll be back."

Iggy left their table. Where the Hell were these pricks when his father got killed? All the times his parents fed them and it didn't do one damn bit of good. They didn't show up at either of his folk's funerals or even bothered to send flowers.

The seriously depressed Janitor was pushing a basket filled with jizz-soaked towels and red linen down the hallway.

"Here," Iggy said handing the janitor the hundreds Paulie gave him.

The old man was shocked at the gesture. "B-but" He stammered.

"Consider it hazard pay."

…...

Iggy scrubbed down the last plate. Baby Doll did an admirable job and if she had her way, would have kept going until her hands fell off. He finally relieved her and let her get some rest. His decision was partly out of pity but mostly because he needed some time to think. Iggy always did his best thinking when washing dishes.

The night was a great success and his work got plenty of compliments. Up until now, people came here solely for the debauchery- all that might be changing soon when word of his skill gets out. Even Blue was impressed. Paulie was true to his word and talked to him about the national treasure in his midst. Since it would mean more clout with the Chicago families, Iggy was rewarded with an extra two bits- such a fine human being.

Iggy finished the last plate and placed it on the rack to dry. He heard the freezer door open. He pulled the sink plugs and limped over to look inside. A girl in a purple bathrobe was rummaging.

"Help you find somethin'?" He asked.

"Yeah. Got any ice?"'

It was the Asian girl Amber. He stepped inside the freezer and produced a tin bucket filled with ice cubes. The kitchen didn't have an ice cube maker, so the ice delivery guy brought in several pounds in buckets. He offered Amber the bucket and promptly gasped.

A bruise was swallowing her left eye. He dropped the bucket, cupped her chin, and examined it. That was made by a fist; he had seen more than his share back home.

"What the Hell happened?" He asked

"No big deal. One of my clients got carried away."

"Hell yeah it's a big deal. In the morning we'll talk to Blue, and he'll take care of the prick."

"Blue doesn't care. After the clients pay their money, they can do whatever they want."

Iggy's face turned beet red, and he punched the freezer wall. The girl watched with amazement. "Why're you so pissed?"

"Why the Hell aren't you?"

"It happens all the time. We cover it with makeup and move on. If I make a beef Blue'll get rid of me."

Iggy left the freezer and slumped in the chair. He bent over and covered his face with his hands. Amber bent down and wrapped her arm around his shoulder.

"You don't deserve this." He whispered

She rubbed his shoulder.

"It's just an act." She assured him. "Everything we do is just an act. Doesn't mean anything. Look: we smile and giggle, lie how good they were and send them on their way."

She may accept it, but Iggy never will. Seeing a beautiful girl like her getting mutilated was tantamount to the Mona Lisa getting pissed on.

"And what do you get out of it?"

"What do I get? A place to live. A family. I was living on the street when Blue found me. The other girls are the closest thing I've ever had to sisters."

He saw her point. It still didn't make it right though.

Iggy stood, got a clean rag, and placed a couple of ice cubes in the center. He folded up the package and handed it to Amber who held it to her eye. His profound look of sadness was overwhelming to the girl. Was he tearing?

"Who are you?" She asked. "I've been here for so long and you're the only one to act like this."

He sighed sadly.

"Just someone who crawled out of Hell and found himself stuck in another."

Later…

There was nothing quite like hitting the sack and finishing the last smoke after a hard day's work. Sure, the mattress was covered in odd stains, smelled weird and almost every hard surface in here was sticky, but it was warm, private, and entirely his. A huge step up considering his accommodations back home.

A knock at the door.

"Enter?" Iggy bid suspiciously.

The door opened and Rocket appeared in a dark blue bathrobe. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

"Umm Kitchen's closed?" He advised her uneasily.

"Blue wanted to thank you for your fine work with his important visitors tonight." She smirked.

"Okay. Well, tell him his extra quarter is thanks enough?"

Rocket untied the sash around her robe and slipped it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. She was wearing nothing underneath.

Dear God, she was beautiful. The girl was in the middle of her golden age- just out of her nubile years and right before gravity began having its way. Her skin was porcelain smooth. From the top of her short blond hair, down her perky breasts, past her flat belly with equally perfect belly button, and finally down to her nicely trimmed…THE HELL WAS HE DOING?!"

"Oh no you don't" He sternly warned.

Iggy rolled out of bed, grabbed her robe off the floor, and handed it to her, a look of shock on her face. He quickly turned her around and marched her to the door, careful not to touch anything naughty.

"What the Hell are you doing?" She protested "Are you gay or what?"

"No. I just hate robbing cradles."

"But I'm twenty!"

"Even worse. Now shoo." He said shoving her out the doorway and slamming it.

Phew!

Blue's office…

Blue and his goons were engaged in a spirited game of Pool when Rocket appeared.

"So? How did it go?" He asked without turning around.

"It didn't"

He turned to her.

"What?"

"He wasn't interested." She elaborated.

He carefully laid his pool cue on the table, took a deep breath, and flashed her a wide toothy smile.

"Come here?" He asked, beckoning to her.

The girl froze. Rocket had always prided herself on her intestinal fortitude but when Blue was like this? Every internal alarm began to ring.

"I'm not gonna hurt ya. Come here?"

Summoning all her strength, she stepped forward. He patted the edge of the pool table.

"Have a seat."

Rocket complied, although she quivered with fear. He rubbed her back assuredly.

"I'm aware how your clients find your feisty act a turn on. But me?" He grabbed a handful of her hair and whipped her head backward, making her wail from pain and surprise. "I don't. In fact- I fucking hate it."

"But-" She pled.

"Now I know you and Sweet Pea are a package deal." Blue continued "Family is an important thing. Heck! I have a brother back in Chicago somewhere. But it's getting very expensive to feed and house you girls. And what happens to chickens that don't produce anymore? It's to the block they go. Understand?"

The girl didn't respond so Blue wrenched her head again, making her yelp.

"Understand?" He repeated calmly.

"Yes." She whimpered.

"Now you're going back to Iggy's room and service him like I told you to. And then we can all put this mess behind us. Okay?"

"But what if he still isn't interested?"

"Well, then it's up to you to get him interested. Capiche? Use your imagination."

"Yes sir."

He released her and patted her on the back.

"Good girl. Now go out there and make me proud."

With her face blushed and tears in her eyes, she shuffled back out of his office. He nudged CJ.

"Follow her and make sure she's doing her job. If she fails again? Take care of it."

"And what'll we tell Sweet Pea?" CJ asked.

"We'll just say she ran away. She'll believe that."

….

Iggy was just beginning to doze off when there was another knock on his door.

"Dammit. Enter?"

Rocket reappeared. No smirks this time.

"Look dammit-"

She stepped forward.

"No! YOU look." She retorted.

It was then he saw the look of abject fear in her reddened eyes.

"Blue wants me to service you." She pointed back to the door. "CJ is standing outside to make sure I do. If I don't he'll kill me."

Iggy believed her; he knew Rocket and Blue too well not to. But between his injury and his promise to Sweet Pea, sleeping with her was an impossibility. He didn't want to see her hurt either. His harried brain hatched a plan.

"How good a play-actor are you?" He asked.

"Seriously? It's half my job."

"Good. Here's what we're going to do…"

Later, outside Iggy's room…

Blue joined CJ outside Iggy's door.

"How's she doing?" He whispered.

CJ just snickered and nodded to the door. The squeaking of bedsprings and screams echoed from behind.

"OMIGOD! OMIGOD!" Iggy and Rocket screamed in unison.

"See?" Blue smiled with pride. "A little motivation works wonders."

Inside…

Rocket was screaming with joy and jumping on Iggy's cot as he sat in the tattered easy chair and joined in.

"Naughty girl!" He yelled while clapping his hands.

She yelped happily to the imaginary spank.

"Naughty! I'm so naughty!" Rocket squealed with glee while jumping on the cot.

Outside…

Another squeak and crash followed as Iggy's cot collapsed to the floor. Iggy and Rocket giggled at the wacky turn of events.

"Dammit, girl!" He panted loudly. "You're an animal!"

"You're not so bad yourself. Come here ya big galoot!" She responded

More squeaking of springs and smashing of furniture.

Blue nudged CJ and they quietly left the scene.

Inside…

Rocket peeked under the door.

"He's gone." She sighed with relief.

She made to leave. Just the sweat from her exertion alone would be enough evidence of her success.

"Why?" She asked.

"Hmm?"

"It's obvious you wanted me. Why didn't you?"

What was he supposed to say? That his balls got blown off in the war? He had a little self-respect left and sure as Hell didn't want the pity.

"I promised your sister to keep you safe- that means from me too."

Rocket just shook her head and left.

….

Rocket returned to the ladies' dorm. Sweet Pea had been waiting on her return.

"What did Blue want?" Sweet Pea asked

"I was a gift to Iggy."

Her sister sneered in rage. "Dammit. I knew I couldn't trust that bastard."

Rocket shook her head assuredly.

"It's okay. He didn't do anything."

"Nothing?"

"Didn't lay a hand on me." She confirmed.

The girl wisely decided to leave out the physical threat aspect of the evening's activities. They sat on one of the beds.

"There's something different about that guy." Rocket whispered. "I think we can trust him."

Sweet Pea squeezed her shoulder.

"No." She corrected her sternly "Absolutely not. You only trust me. No one else- got it? It's the only way you can stay safe here."

That Next Evening

Iggy arrived with Blue's dinner. Seeing that weasel now gave him acute feelings of hatred and nausea. It took all his self-control to keep from spitting in his food. Iggy set it on Blue's desk and the bastard promptly jams a napkin in his collar and proceeds to stuff his face. Iggy still managed to paste on his best ignorant grin. In Blue's eyes, he was still just a simple cook. That gave him an advantage too valuable to jeopardize- the girls needed him now.

Leotarded Sweet Pea appeared in the doorway.

"What do you want?" Blue asks through a full mouth.

"She's dancing." She advised.

"Who is dancing?"

"Your Baby Doll."

Immediately Blue and his cronies left, closing the door and leaving Iggy behind. A second later the door opens again, and Sweet Pea snuck inside. Her attention was fixed on the facility map mounted on the bulletin board behind Blue's desk. She motioned for him to leave. An escape plot? Count him in!

"Let me help?" He begged.

She shook her head sternly and motioned for Iggy to leave again. He got the point loud and clear.

"Feel free to sneeze on his food." He whispered in her ear as he left Blue's office.

He closed the office door and headed back to the studio.

…

Once again Baby Doll was dancing and gyrating to the music while Blue and his cronies stood transfixed. Very clever. The girls were using her dancing as a distraction to sneak around. When they escape, the girls should head over to Washington. The government could always use a few good spies.

The music stopped and more applause. Blue and Gorski disappeared into her office. Iggy and Amber strained to listen.

"What's going on?" He asked her.

"Nothing good."

The mumbling inside became heated. They argued. Then the dialogue suddenly ended. An ecstatic Blue stepped out.

"You look great by the way. Big show, girls." He clapped and quickly left the room.

Gorski did not look pleased.

"Everything okay?" He asked.

She just shook her head ruefully.

The next afternoon…

Big doings that day.

All the girls and staff were put to work readying the place. Every inch of wall, tile, and carpet was scrubbed within an inch of their lives. All the while Blue nervously double and triple-checked everything.

The kitchen wasn't involved in the festivities, so Iggy was all but ignored. Being the lowest guy on the totem pole here he had no idea what was going on. He sure as Hell couldn't ask Blue or any of his cronies lest they get suspicious. He would have to seek alternate sources of information.

A group of the girls was scrubbing the hallway floor again. A dark-haired girl stopped to stretch.

"Thirsty? He asked her.

"Please?"

"C'mon."

She followed him into the kitchen. He took a glass from its army of clones and filled it from the tap. She took a healthy swig.

"Thanks." She smiled, handing him back the glass.

"So, who's coming? The High Roller?" He asked.

"Oh no. It's the Mayor."

Iggy had no idea the corruption went that far.

"He's a part of this?"

"Oh yeah. Blue kicks money and favors up to him and in return, he gets protection from the cops and press."

"Is there anyone around that isn't on his payroll?"

"I don't think so. Anyone he can't bribe he disappears or beats up."

A stressed and disheveled Blue appeared in the doorway.

"Blondie? What the Hell is this? I didn't call a break."

The girl shrunk away. Iggy squeezed her shoulder assuredly and stepped forward.

"Sorry boss. She was lookin' faint so I got her a drink of water. She's okay now. Right Blondie?"

"Yeah. I'm okay now." She assured him.

"Whatever. Blow."

The girl hustled out of the kitchen. Blue sneered. In response, Iggy just flashed his ignorant smile.

"Hungry? I can make you a sam-"

Blue grabbed handfuls of Iggy's shirt and slammed him against the wall. He could have fought back but best just play along. His act was even more important now.

"What're you playing at?" Blue snarled.

Iggy summoned up his best look of shock.

"Sir! What could I have possibly done"

"I see how you look at my girls. Sneaking into the studio and ogling. They're mine, got it? No free samples. You want a throw you pay for it like everybody else. Rocket was a one-time gift. Don't take advantage of my generosity."

"I would never dream of rubbing your Rhubarb."

"Shut up. You lay one hand on them- just one and I'll cut it off. Capiche?"

"No free samples. Cut my hand off. Got it, sir." Iggy obediently confirmed.

"Good."

Blue released him.

"Sure you don't want a sammich?"

"Moron." Blue guffawed under his breath and left.

Iggy slumped. Being a sycophant was draining.

That evening…

The stretched limo pulled up to the front porch outside receiving. A gray uniformed chauffer opened the passenger door and a short, chubby guy in thick horn-ribbed glasses, black suit, matching fedora, and fur-lined coat climbed out. Two shaded bodyguards took their stations behind him. Cripes look at this guy's rings! Just one of them could feet the girls for a year. No doubt bought with bribes from Blue.

Like any good weasel, Blue threw himself at the new arrival and groveled like a pro. The mayor barely acknowledged his existence as they entered the building. The front doors and all the gates had been propped open in anticipation of his arrival.

Iggy along with the rest of the staff followed at a respectable distance.

"My tax dollars at work." Iggy snickered to himself.

The club had been prepared specially for their guest. They had cleared out some of the tables and set up a gold throne with red upholstery front and center to the stage. Their guest stripped off his hat and coat, revealing a shining gold dinner jacket. He settled into the chair and Maggie the new cigarette lady offered him an open box of El Jefe cigars. He took one and slid it under his stubby nose. Finding it acceptable he stuck it in his mouth and lit it with a huge gold lighter from his jacket pocket. Amber, dressed in her best "come hither" outfit, sat on his lap. Blue and the bodyguards took their prescribed stations behind the throne.

The cigarette lady rejoined the help gathered at the bar behind Blue. Her tray was filled with all manner of cancer-raising novelties. Iggy gave her a nudge and she turned to him.

"Got any ABCs?" He whispered.

"One. It's not a popular item."

She dug out a single pack.

"How much?"

"Forget it. It was going stale anyway." She whispered, handing him the pack.

He handed her his empty wrapper.

"See this to the right place?"

"You got it, honey." She nodded and shoved it into her cleavage.

…

House lights dimmed and the curtains parted. Spotlights focused on Gorski in a sparkly black evening gown. She had pasted on her best brave smile, but Iggy could tell this situation made her seriously uncomfortable. No way in Hell was Baby Doll ready for this.

"Gentlemen. Welcome. We have a new girl for you tonight; something extra special. It is a work in progress, so I apologize in advance for the raw nature of the performance. I will say, however, that is part of the charm. It is my pleasure to introduce you to this little Baby Doll..."

She exited the stage and the curtains parted again, revealing little Pig Tails in a leotard. But instead of nervousness or reluctance, Iggy saw determination. She was on another mission. Iggy wouldn't miss this for the world.

The music started and Baby Doll reentered her trance. While the others drooled, Iggy scanned the scene to see who the target was. The only one not entranced was Amber on the mayor's lap. From his angle, he could not exactly see what the girl was up to, but she seemed to be focused on the mayor's coat. His lighter! She was after his gold lighter. The kid was taking a big chance doing this. Baby Doll's fearlessness must have rubbed off on her.

The music ended.

Ash from the mayor's mostly unsmoked El Jefe cigar landed on his shoe and crumbled. He stood and applauded. The rest of the room followed suit like a good group of trained monkeys. Blue smiled with sick pride at his wonderful victory. Even Gorski seemed pleased despite all her hesitation.

The mayor reached into his jacket for his lighter but found it missing. He stood and checked the floor around his chair. Amber had disappeared.

"Something wrong, sir?" Blue groveled.

"My lighter's gone."

Everyone just stood and stared.

"Well find the damn thing!" He roared. "It's worth more than what you plebes make in a year."

Blue and the guards scattered and checked the floor. Iggy noticed a glimmer on the ground a couple of feet away towards the hallway to the girl's dressing room. He stooped and picked it up. It was the gold lighter. Geez, this thing was heavy! It sported a dragon in relief on the side. Amber must have dropped it when she fled the scene.

"Found it." Iggy yelled, holding it up for all to see.

Without a word, Blue snatched it from Iggy's hand and handed it to the mayor.

"How the Hell did it wind up over there?" Their guest asked while returning it to his jacket pocket.

"Maybe that girl-" One of the mayor's bodyguards suggested.

Blue guffawed.

"Trust me: they're not stupid enough to try something like that. You probably just dropped it and it bounced down there. Still, no harm done." Blue assured him.

The mayor reclaimed his coat and hat.

"How'd you like her?" Blue pressed as the mayor headed out of the club.

"Hmm? Yeah, real good. Real good. Kid's gonna be huge." He returned.

"If you could spread word…"

"Absolutely. She'll bring in a lot of business."

Once the Mayor was safely gone, Blue straightened his jacket, took a deep breath, and bellied up to the bar. He took a brandy glass and filled it to the rim with straight Jack Daniels. He downed half of it in one gulp. Iggy could tell he knew full well what happened. Best gauge this situation.

"Congratulation's boss." Iggy gushed "Looks like tonight was a huge success."

"Shut the fuck up you moron" He sneered and finished the glass.

"But-"

Blue just glared at Iggy with a gaze that could melt steel. He bowed his head in mock shame and took a step back with the rest of his frightened staff. Blue filled his glass again. A psycho like him getting drunk? There are few things more dangerous. He took another deep swig.

"C'mon." Blue growled at his guards and left the bar.

They headed across the club floor to the girl's dressing room. Iggy had seen that look before- this wasn't going to end well.

"Shit."

Iggy left the crowd to follow but someone gripped his shoulder. It was the cigarette lady. Others in the crowd looked concerned too.

"Best stay out of this." She sternly warned.

The others mumbled in agreement. Iggy freed his shoulder and continued.

…

The dressing room was silent, no doubt mourning Amber's failure. Ponytails was giving the grieving girl an assuring hug.

"It's okay." Baby Doll assured her.

"Why so sad, girls?" Blue asked the room.

Save for Baby Doll and Sweet Pea, the girls shrunk away at the creep's sudden appearance. They could tell he was drunk out of his skull. Ever in the lead, Sweet Pea stepped forward to intercept him.

"Oh, she thinks the mayor is losing interest in her. We keep telling her it's silly-"

"Silly!" He laughed maniacally "Very silly…"

The tension in the room escalated. Amber took a step back and began to quiver at the display. Blue downed a mouthful from his glass and advanced on the girl until they are almost nose to nose.

"I mean, why the Hell would he lose interest in you? Huh? It's not like anything unusual happened, right?"

He turned away from Amber and advanced on Sweet Pea who was managing to remain stoic in the face of this drunken freak. Lots of strength in this lady.

"It's not like lots of unusual stuff have been…happening around here. Like, say, in my office!?"

Iggy's blood froze. He knows about the map?

"…messing with my shit!?" He roared in her face.

"Uh, boss?" Iggy uncomfortably offered.

Blue along with the rest of the room turned to him.

"That was me. I'm sorry." He groveled.

The girls looked just as perplexed at their cook's unexpected outburst.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Blue grunted.

Iggy summoned a look of sadness worthy of Hollywood.

"Your dinner was gettin' cold, so I was going to put in the oven and keep it warm. I-I knocked your wine over. Sorry. I cleaned it up the best I could…"

His groveling and fervent apology took the wind out of Blue's drunken sails. Now he just looked confused. He grabbed Iggy's shirt once again.

"Touch my shit again and I'll…"

"I won't touch anything again. I swear. Don't hit me, boss?" Iggy sobbed.

Blue released him and Iggy promptly collapsed to the floor. Blue staggered away. His equally confused guards followed.

"Just…just behave yourselves. I'm watching you." Blue managed.

Everyone held their breath until Blue and his guards were safely out of earshot. Then the room let out a collective sigh of relief. Rocket and Baby Doll helped Iggy back to his feet.

"Why did you do that? He could have killed you." Baby Doll sternly scolded him.

"I-I've seen that look before. Someone was going to get hurt."

"And you would rather it be you?" Rocket gasped.

Sweet Pea stepped forward. "Okay. This ends now. We're putting too many in danger as it is."

Rocket looked shocked at her sister's words.

"We can't stop now. We've come so far." She retorted.

"It's over." Sweet Pea confirmed "Baby Doll?"

"I don't know…"

"What do you mean you don't know? Blue's onto us. We had a deal. If I say it's over, it's over."

Sweet Pea turned to Iggy.

"just go."

"But-"

She looked at him with sincere concern.

"Please? It's okay." She assured him.

Iggy was too tired to argue and, in his heart, he knew it would have been pointless. He pulled out his half-empty book of matches and tossed them to Baby Doll. "All you had to do was ask." All the girls remained silent at the gesture. He turned and hobbled back to the club. Some of the employees were still gathered. They must have heard the commotion. The cigarette lady intercepted Iggy.

He handed her his unopened pack of cigarettes.

"I'm quitting smoking."

"You sure?" She sternly confirmed.

Iggy just nodded.

"I have some Marlboros for eighty cents" She pressed.

"Too rich for my blood. They're just sixty-five cents in Chicago."

"Okay," She nodded, taking his pack of ABCs, and returned it to her tray.

Iggy continued his way back to the kitchen, all the while imagining Baby Doll getting ravaged and victimized by the High Roller and eventually becoming one of the lost souls in Blue's harem. Her growing old here and that spark inside her dying- like his. Is that what this is about? He saw himself in her? The Demons will drag her down below just like they did him.

It was out of his hands now.

The next evening…

Iggy was frying a couple of Chicken Fried steaks. Blue requested the menu change to see what the big deal was. It was back to business as usual. The potatoes in the larder were just days away from sprouting so it was going to be mashed spuds tonight- lots of it. He might just handle the pulverizing duties himself though; he had an awful lot of frustration to vent.

He checked the clock again. It was just a quarter after four. The club opened for business at six. Baby Doll would perform and then be pimped to the High Roller shortly after.

"Crap" He cursed

Baby Doll, Amber, and Rocket were drafted into the potato peeling brigade. The girls were whispering to each other. He couldn't hear a thing, but Rocket looked to be becoming increasingly annoyed with Baby Doll. They occasionally stole glances at him.

The girl looked resigned to her fate but Rocket, being the stubborn ball of anarchy she was, must be refusing to accept her decision. Amber was just keeping quiet.

He checked the clock again. It was exactly five minutes since he last looked.

Sweet Pea burst inside the doors, completely catching the girls by surprise.

"Don't you have some work you should be doing?" She asked them.

They all looked at him and argued under their breaths. The girls were obviously planning something, and he was somehow involved. Should he say something? Why bother. This was not his battle- they made that perfectly clear.

He turned away from the stove. A broom had been shoved through the door handles.

"Oh crap."

Baby Doll cleared off the table with a swipe of her arm, knocking the bowl of peeled potatoes onto the floor. Rocket rolled up the chair, shoved Iggy into it, and sat on his lap. Sweet Pea turned on the radio and adjusted the dial until they found a decent dance song. He tried to explain they were just wasting their time but couldn't get a word in.

"But-"

"Just go along with it." She whispered into his ear.

"This isn't necessary." He insisted.

"Don't worry about it. You can deny everything."

Baby Doll climbed up on the table and began to dance to the music. And like every time before, it had no effect on him. The girls could see something was wrong.

Pounding on the door.

"What the Hell is going on in there?" A familiar voice demanded.

An enraged Blue and his thugs were looking in the round kitchen door window. The doors slammed open, snapping the broom. They caught Rocket holding one of Iggy's knives.

"You stupid bitch!" Blue roared punching Rocket in the head, sending her sprawling to the floor.

Iggy sprung out of the chair and pounced Blue. Screw everything- his life, his job, everything. Kill the fucking freak. But Iggy weighed a scant hundred pounds and wasn't much of a threat. Blue's bodyguards grabbed Iggy by the arms and pulled him off. The weasel looked him in the face.

"Tough guy, eh?" Blue sneered, sending his fist into Iggy's gut.

"Leave him alone!" Sweet Pea roared.

Blue punched Iggy in the jaw. The goons released Iggy and he fell hard to the kitchen floor, blood pouring from his mouth. Blue grabbed an enraged Sweet Pea by a handful of her hair and forced her to look at Iggy sprawled on the floor.

"See? This is all your fault. Fat Pauly's going to whack all of us for this!"

Sweet Pea spat Blue in the eye. He backhanded her across the face, sending her flying into the arms of his guards.

"Yeah, big man. Beating up girls." Iggy choked through a mouth of blood.

"Fucking gimp…" Blue hissed, kicking Iggy in the head and knocking him out cold.

Blue took a deep breath and turned to a sobbing Amber.

"You have Sweet Pea's slot in tonight's show. Go get ready. GO!"

Amber darted out of the door.

"Take them to the closet. If they resist, fucking shoot them."

His thugs lifted Rocket off the floor and hustled the girls out of the kitchen. Blue straightened up his jacket and slicked back his hair. He turned to Baby Doll and pasted on his toothy smile.

"As for you- It's showtime."

…..

The smell…

The horrible smell…

Piss, shit and vomit. Cold, always so damn cold.

Iggy pulled his knee to his chin and shivered.

Always so damn cold.

His broken mind remembered the kitchen back in his parent's restaurant. Chicken Soup, fresh bread, and beef frying on the grill. Perfectly aged salami and cheese, cakes coming out of the oven. Heaven is what it was. Heaven so far away from here.

So far away. Now he was garbage.

The pain wracked his body again. Perhaps it would kill him this time? He wanted to go home. To be far away from here.

A dark form stood over him. He reached out to it.

"Kill me…" He begged it.

It squatted down to him and a soft warm hand cupped his face.

"No." A woman's voice advised.

All he could see was its eyes- beautiful blue eyes. They could not be human. Only Angels have eyes like that.

"Take me home?" He asked the eyes.

Strong arms lifted him off the ground. He expected them to lift him into the sky and through the clouds, but they just helped him to his feet. An arm held him by his minuscule waist and walked him out of the alley. The sun shone on his face. Passerby gazed upon him with a mixture of pity and disgust. Where did this filthy thing come from?

"Angels or Demons." The voice advised him.

"Which are you?" He asked her.

She didn't answer him. She didn't need to.

….

Iggy came to face down in a pool of his own blood with a mouth full of metal and bile. His stomach ached like it was full of bricks. He pushed himself off the floor and spat out a mouth full of Vomit and blood.

He rolled over onto his side making his throbbing stomach lurch. The kitchen was empty. Blue had just left him behind? It made sense he supposed. He was just a pathetic gimped ex-junkie after all the sad show he just put on was proof enough of that. It was only because of his relationship with the families back home was he still breathing. They took his knife belt though.

He checked the clock. It was ten minutes to six.

"Crap"

Time was running out.

Iggy dragged himself across the kitchen floor, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. One of Blue's goons was standing outside the kitchen, his back to the doors.

Taking hold of the table, Iggy hauled himself to his feet. Blue's kick knocked his equilibrium out of whack, and he nearly fell back to the floor. Luckily weighing a buck was easy to keep steady.

No knives- he would have to get creative. The pan with Blues now cremated steaks was still on the range. Why didn't he use it on that weasel? Dumbass. But it would come in handy now. He carefully slid the pan off the burner and took a couple of plates from the stacks. He hobbled to the left of the double kitchen doors and pressed his back against the wall. If this doesn't work? "You're fucked. 'Nuff said." He muttered.

He took a deep breath, kissed the plate for luck, and tossed it. It flew across the room and smashed against the far wall. The door immediately swung open and the goon appeared with his handgun drawn. Iggy threw the other plate against the far wall. The goon turned away from him.

Iggy swung the pan, smashing it against the goon's head and producing an extremely pleasing metallic thud. The guard sprawled to the floor and his gun hit the ground with a clatter. Iggy straddled him, took the pan with both hands, and sent it crashing onto his skull. Was he dead? Nope- still breathing. The pan now had a pronounced dent in the middle. Was it a cheap pan or was this goon's head just especially thick? Whatever. He grabbed the body by the collar and dragged it out of sight.

He took the forty-five off the floor and slipped out the magazine. Full? Excellent. He may have been just a cook in the Army but even their Ham and Eggers know how to use a gun. He pulled back the carriage, loading a bullet into the barrel. He searched the drawers for anything sharp. In the back of one, he found a rusty icepick. "Better than nothing." He thought shoving it into his back pocket.

Iggy peeked through the kitchen window doors. Seedy-looking men in suits were heading down the hallway towards the club. They were probably all armed too. Best keep this under the table. He shoved the gun in the seat of his pants, took a deep breath, and stepped outside the doors. The patrons noticed him. He just conjured up his best-assuring smile, despite the gore on his shirt.

"Just the cook."

It worked. They ignored him and continued on their way.

Iggy hobbled over to the broom closet and pressed his ear to the door. Nothing. He gently knocked.

"You two alright?" He whispered.

He heard a shuffling and grunting. It must be tight quarters in there.

"Iggy?" Rocket returned.

"Yeah."

"Blue's crazy."

"Working on it. Hold tight." He assured her.

He casually walked down the hall to the club and pushed the doors open. The pub tables and booths were packed with people sucking down drinks and smoking while the full band played show tunes. The casino was also filled with drunken idiots gambling their money away. Where they all criminals? He supposed it didn't matter at that point; they were all there for the same thing.

Conjuring as much nonchalance as he could muster, Iggy sauntered into the club. Luckily drinks were flowing freely and most of the patrons were too inebriated to notice his presence. He made his way to the hallway off the stage.

A particularly greasy patron grabbed his arm. Iggy could see the holstered handgun under his coat.

"Where're the broads? They said there would be broads." The drunk grunted.

Iggy slipped on his idiotic sycophant smile like a comfortable pair of socks.

"Coming right up, sir. You won't be disappointed." He assured him.

"Better not be."

The thug released his arm and Iggy continued on his way. In the off chance he makes it through this in one piece, he ought to head to Hollywood.

He made it to the doorway beside the stage. No guards. He took a deep breath and pushed open the doors. The hallway was empty too.

A gunshot and screams came from the dressing room.

"Shit"

His hobbling became a sprint and he pulled the gun.

Another shot and more screams.

…

"…I hope everyone has learned a valuable lesson here, especially you Madame Gorski. Get her out of here."

One of his bodyguards grabbed the sobbing woman and dragged her out the door. They were a couple of feet down the hallway…

"Excuse me?"

The thug turned to have a gun barrel shoved in his mouth. Iggy made an exaggerated hushing gesture while reaching into the thug's coat and pulling out his pistol. He handed it to Gorski.

"Know how to use that?"

The woman pressed her gun to the thug's gut and pulled back the hammer, backing him against the hallway wall. She looked willing to waste him right there.

"Get him out of here."

She walked him away down the hallway. Iggy watched until they were safely out of sight. One down. Three more to go. He turned back to the Dressing Room just in time to see the bodies of Amber and Blondie being dragged out. His shocked mind recalled when he gave Blondie the glass of water. That smile! God, it was beautiful. The thugs saw Iggy with his gun, tears running down his face.

CJ shook his head.

"We didn't do-"

His pleading was cut short as bullets tore through his knees. He screamed and fell to the ground.

"What the fuck is going on out…shit." Blue cursed, seeing the carnage and Iggy splattered with blood.

"He did it." The panicked thug pled, gesturing to Blue. "I had no part-"

The thug's kneecaps exploded as well. Iggy stepped over the bodies and pressed the smoldering barrel to Blue's temple, filling the air with the smell of burning skin.

"L-look-I didn't have a choice here." The weasel begged.

Iggy pressed his gun harder, forcing Blue to step back into the dressing room. The already hysterical girls and staff fell silent as their blood-splattered cook appeared with a gun to their boss' head.

"Go." Iggy whispered to the girls, nodding to the door.

They stampeded out of the room, carefully sidestepping the bodies and moaning wounded. Only Baby Doll remained. The girl was dolled up in a sailor suit covered in sequins and blue rhinestones- all ready to be pimped to the High Roller.

"You want money? Drugs? I can give ya all you want" Blue begged.

Iggy noticed the chalkboard by the door. Map and Fire were checked off, leaving just Knife and Key. This was why Blue murdered Blondie and Amber? Iggy pulled the icepick out of his back pocket.

"You ladies wanted this?" He asked, handing it to Baby Doll.

She took it and a wet spot spread on Blue's crotch as the true gravity of his situation finally rammed home.

"Angels or Demons, Ponytails. Which are you?" Iggy asked.

Baby Doll sent the ice pick into Blue's shoulder all the way up to the handle.

"Both." She snarled.

The girl took hold of Blue's key necklace and kicked him square in the chest, sending him flying backwards to the floor and snapping the chain. The girl disappeared through the door, leaving Blue and Iggy behind. The weasel's panic increased in tempo. It seems his cook was a psychotic nut- weird how the boys in Chicago neglected to mention this.

"How about a throw? Rocket- all you want."

Iggy pointed the gun down at the weasel's temple.

Demons danced…

Demons danced…

They pranced around Iggy, taunting him. All the crap he had seen- Amber's black eye, her lifeless body being hauled away like garbage, Rocket punched, Sweet Pea slapped…on and on. Pieces of meat, that is all they were to him. It was so simple. He could picture Blue's head being bisected and his diseased brains splattering on the dressing room floor. Blondie and Amber and all the others this prick had hurt would be avenged. So simple…

"Do it! He's going to Hell anyway." They urged.

Out of the chorus of taunts, his mother's voice pushed them away: "Time is nearly up Igor. Baby Doll and the others are in great danger. Go to them."

"She was thirsty." Iggy whispered

"What?"

"Blondie was thirsty, and I gave her a glass of water. She smiled and said thank you."

"B-b-but…"

"Did you ever appreciate her smile? Probably not."

A single shot rang through the room.

The thug rolled on the ground screaming in a tone Iggy was all too familiar with, cupping his ruined crotch with blood seeping through his clutching fingers. Iggy checked the clock. It was fifteen after six.

"Shit"

He ran back down the hallway and into the nightclub. No reaction. Between the music, chatter, and booze, no one had heard a thing. Iggy shoved the gun back into his pants. He quickly made his way down through the club and double doors.

Acrid smoke filled the Hallway, burning his lungs and eyes. The broom closet was in flames. Most of the guards were too preoccupied fighting the fire to notice Baby Doll and the other's escape. They probably made a break for the front door. He snuck by the scene to the first gate.

"Crap on a crutch," He moaned

The gate was locked tight. He pulled out the pistol. Would this work? It did in the movies. He took a step back and shut the door, punching a hole through the bar nearest the doorjamb. He rammed the door with his shoulder and the door snapped open. Hooray for Hollywood.

He held the pistol behind his back and continued down the smoke-filled hallway. Pigtail's diversion cleared out all the guards. Now for the second one. Holy crap! Baby Doll had left it ajar- bless her heart. Iggy pushed it open.

All that remained was the electric gate. He slid the magazine out of his pistol. Empty? That figures. The remaining door guard appeared on the other side of the gate and recognized Iggy. He pasted on his best concerned look.

"Someone just shot Blue in the nuts." Iggy gasped "You gotta help him."

"Really?" It grunted

"Yeah! The girls are rampaging, and the place is burning down. See the smoke? It's anarchy!"

The goon just cocked his head in confusion. He would need to simplify this a bit.

"Crazy? Chaotic? Umm Batshit?" Iggy offered.

The message finally got through its thick skull. The guard pressed the button and the gate buzzed open.

"Blood everywhere. Hurry!"

The guard pulled his gun and ran by. "Igor Nelson: master thespian" he mused proudly. He looked in the receiving booth and checked the clock. Six-thirty? Crap! Iggy hobbled through receiving and out the front doors. Baby Doll, Sweet Pea, and Rocket stood on the front porch, staring at the luxury cars and mobsters milling around the parking court. The girls looked to be formulating a plan to get by them to the locked gate. Iggy grabbed the trio, justifiably startling them.

"Get back inside." He advised

"Iggy?" Rocket gasped. "Are you nuts? Why the Hell-"

The bestial roar of an approaching truck engine echoed through the court followed by a pair of headlights glaring through the locked gate. A Mack Truck modified with a snowplow scoop smashed through the gates and plowed into the parked cars, sending mobsters flying. It then reversed and disappeared back through the front gate.

"Holy shit" Sweet Pea managed.

Spotlights erupted from outside the gate and above the court walls.

"IN THE NAME OF THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT, YOU ARE HEREBY ORDERED TO DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND SURRENDER." A bullhorn advised from behind the spotlights.

The gathered criminals cursed and pulled their weapons.

"Get inside!" Iggy yelled.

Further convincing was no longer needed. They ran back inside the double doors and threw themselves on the floor.

A few desperate gunshots from the criminals, pathetic compared to the hardware gathered outside.

"TAKE EM DOWN!" Bullhorn ordered.

Machine Gunfire erupted from outside, obliterating the windows and front door and spraying them with glass and splinters. If not for the brick façade they would have been royally screwed. The thick-headed door guard appeared with his gun drawn.

"I wouldn't do that-"

The thug's body disintegrated in a splatter of gore and bone fragments. Somewhere out there, Darwin was smiling. Iggy glanced over at the girls. They were covered in debris and royally stressed but uninjured. Sweet Pea turned to him.

"You knew about this?" She yelled over the din.

"Yeah." He returned.

"Why the Hell didn't you say something?"

"When? After Blue caught your sister stealing my knife or when firebug Pigtails here tried to burn the place down?"

No response- she saw his point.

More screams and machine gunfire. The sound of what could only be a bazooka was followed by a shockwave of heat and concussion as one of the cars exploded outside. More screams. Another explosion shook the ground. It sounded like World War Three out there.

The gunshots became sporadic and stopped, leaving pained screams, moans, and the crackle of flames. More voices confronting the remaining criminals and ordering their surrender.

Footsteps crunched on the debris as a small army stampeded up the front walk.

"FBI!" A deep male voice announced through the ruined foyer.

Iggy turned and faced business-suited men toting machine guns. After all the ruckus he could barely hear a thing they were saying.

"Igor Nelson." He yelled at the invaders.

The shape recognized the name.

"Iggy?"

"Yeah!"

They snatched him off the ground and helped him to his feet.

"And them?" The Fed asked, nodding at the prone girls.

"They're okay."

They grabbed the girls too and led the group outside and out of harm's way.

"Geez" Rocket coughed.

The smoke-filled parking lot was now filled with burning car wrecks and bullet-riddled corpses. Bullet and bazooka hits pockmarked the court walls, ground, and building facade. Taking the mobsters out must have been like shooting fish in a barrel.

A horde of armed Soldiers along with policemen and more feds poured through the ruined front gate and into the building. Screaming and gunshots erupted from inside. A business-suited woman stepped forward and met the girls. Sweet Pea recognized her immediately as the cigarette lady. She produced a badge and showed it to the group.

"Special Agent Powell. FBI"

She placed her hand on Iggy's shoulder and looked him in the eyes.

"Angels or Demons?" She asked him

He looked at her and smiled.

"Angels."

That morning…

The raid continued throughout the night. Luckily most of the occupants were drunk otherwise it could have gone on for much longer. The chaos caused by the fire and the lack of leadership ruined any defense plan the occupants might have had. Most just surrendered outright. The few that tried to fight back found themselves outgunned and fell quickly.

A convoy of armored Prison busses and ambulances arrived outside the debris and corpse-littered parking lot to haul off the prisoners and bodies. They planned to ship the survivors off to the penitentiary in Chittenden to be processed and arraigned. An army of Attorneys was awaiting their arrival.

A gauntlet of soldiers flanked the seemingly endless line of shackled mobsters and club patrons being loaded into the prison busses. Agent Powell supervised while Iggy gave her information on select ones while helping separate the girls from the criminals.

Rocket appeared beside Agent Powell.

"How many so far?" She asked.

"So far? A hundred and fifty-six and counting. We have more busses due within the hour."

"You can't do this! I'm protected." A familiar high-pitched voice barked.

Ballless Blue and his kneecapped cronies were being hauled out strapped in gurneys. Rocket growled and advanced on her former boss. From the look on her face, this wasn't going to be pretty. Iggy managed to intercept her. "Easy there." Iggy soothed. "I want to fucking kill him." She growled, struggling against Iggy. "They have him on two first degree murders with a room full of witnesses. He'll never see the sky again- trust me."

The weasel recognized Agent Powell immediately.

"Maggie? What the Hell?"

She pulled her badge and held it in front of his shocked face.

"Special Agent Powell, dipshit."

"Oh crap." Blue bawled.

Iggy nudged her.

"He killed Blondie and Amber. The other two will be more than happy to testify. Right?"

"DAMN RIGHT WE WILL!" The dark-skinned goon yelled.

"You traitors!" Blue barked.

"Screw you, man." They returned as the two thugs were loaded into waiting ambulances.

"Know the girl's real names?" Powell asked Iggy, ready to jot them down on her clipboard.

"No idea. Rocket?"

"We only knew them as Amber and Blondie. Blue never let us use our real names."

Agent Powell took a deep breath and made a notation. "We're going through his records. There should be something in there."

"Don't bother." Rocket advised. "He wouldn't have. He didn't give a shit."

"Well arrest him too." Blue cried, glaring at Iggy. "He shot me in the pills."

Agent Powell turned to him.

"Is this true?"

"Me? I'm just a simple cook." Iggy dismissed. "I mash potatoes and make sammiches."

"Good enough for me. Get him outta here." She said gesturing to the ambulance.

"B-but I'm protected! The mayor-" Blue maintained as they loaded the gurney into the waiting ambulance.

Powell laughed heartily.

"The same mayor that turned state's evidence not ten minutes ago?"

"Shit." Blue moaned as they slammed the ambulance doors and sped away.

The long parade of damned souls continued. A shackled Madam Gorski appeared amongst the group of prisoners. Her hair and clothes were disheveled and singed. It was a miracle she made it through the raid in one piece. He nudged Agent Powell again.

"That's Gorski their dance coach. She witnessed Blue kill the two girls."

Rocket approached her. "You alright?" She asked. No response. The woman looked to be in shock. Seeing those girls getting murdered, being beaten by Blue and the raid probably gave her sanity a good jolt. She looked at Rocket with sad broken eyes. "I'm so sorry, child." She whimpered. Soldiers grabbed her by the arms and forced her onto the bus.

"You're not arresting her too." Rocket gasped

"No choice. She was complicit in prostitution, gambling, illegal arms sales..."

"But she was forced to."

The older woman shook her head and soothed the girl. "It is alright, Rocket. This was my fault. I should have stepped in long ago."

"We'll testify for you!" Rocket called.

…

Baby Doll quietly sat on the porch and watched. This wasn't how she expected this thing to end. An agent approached her holding a notepad.

"Ma'am? We're compiling a list of witnesses. Would you be interested in testifying? We can arrange protection if that concerns you."

"Sure."

The agent nodded and scribbled something into his notepad.

"Your name please?"

"Reese. Abigail Reese."

"Pretty name." He nodded, making a notation.

It felt damn good to use it again.

That Afternoon…

The lady Governor arrived along with an army of press. Aside from the local radio, Television stations, and newspapers, there were reporters from all over the country and a couple of foreign ones too. This was a big win for the good guys, and they weren't letting it pass quietly.

The parking lot had been cleared of its human and automobile carnage and a podium with microphones was set up on the building's front porch. Photographers were already taking pictures of the building's bullet-riddled façade. The press fell silent as the lady Governor took her place behind the podium. Members of the military, FBI, and police stood behind her. Rocket, Baby Doll, Sweet Pea, Agent Powell, and Iggy watched from the side.

"Good afternoon. With the unprecedented collaboration of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, National Guard and Vermont law enforcement, it is my great pleasure to announce Operation Sucker Punch has been a resounding success."

Applause from the crowd.

….

"Sucker Punch?" Sweet Pea asked amused

"It was Iggy's idea." Agent Powell explained. "I wanted to name it Grand Slam, but he thought Sucker Punch sounded cooler."

"It does." Rocket seconded.

"Told you so." Iggy whispered, giving her a nudge.

Agent Powell sighed sadly in defeat.

…..

"Two years ago, Federal agents in Chicago heard rumors of a women's asylum acting as a front for prostitution, narcotic distribution, weapons smuggling, and political favors. However, rumors were not enough to get a warrant and the locals were too frightened to cooperate. It was then the FBI devised Operation Sucker Punch. A civilian, trusted by the mob, was hired on as a staff member to gather intelligence. The project was to run for two weeks. However, after only a few days, more than enough cause to swear out a warrant was found, and the raid was executed. The result is the single largest group arrest in US history."

The gathering of press applauded again. Abby took Iggy by the arm and pulled him away from the group. She faced him.

"Is it because of me you shut this down?" She asked sternly.

"Yeah."

"What the Hell for?" The girl demanded.

"I couldn't let the High Roller touch you."

"I had it handled."

"Like Hell you did. How were you going to deal with the guards out front? Hmm? Ask nice? Say pretty please? You wouldn't have gotten a foot before they cut you in half. Unless…"

The gravity of her plan finally hit Iggy like a ton of bricks.

"You weren't going to throw yourself at them." He gasped.

She looked uncomfortable. Bingo.

"Are you nuts? Y-you're just a kid! I have socks older than you."

The court fell silent. Iggy and Baby Doll turned to see the Governor as well as all the press watching them. Their heated argument had trumped her speech. "Sorry." Iggy offered as they hustled out of the court and through the ruined gate. The Governor continued.

"It was my sacrifice to make." Abby steadfastly maintained.

For a little thing, she has bigger balls than most of the guys he knew in the Army or Mob for that matter.

"Then why the Hell didn't you let me help? This wonderful plan of yours might have ended with you getting out of here in one piece too. Or is your life really that worthless?"

"We didn't want you to get hurt."

He laughed.

"Hurt? How more hurt could I possibly be? I mean, look at me. I'm a gimped, steri…crap."

He blushed and turned away. Abby was struck dumb; she had no idea.

"Look. Maybe what I did was wrong." He sighed "I don't care. Seeing how Blue was treating you and the others, I just couldn't let it continue. You girls were more important than this thing, it's crazy you can't see that."

Iggy buried his hands deep into his pockets and wandered back into the court.

"Truth is, Pigtails? I won't stop caring for you and the others. I can't. It'll never happen so deal with it."

Abby saw the truth now. After everything the poor guy had been through, he just wanted someone to care for. She and the girls here filled that void. He also saved her from what could have been a monumental mistake. Pretty damn ungrateful on her part.

She returned to the court.

"…and let this be a warning to organized crime: no matter how clever you think you are or how many you kill, bribe, or beat into submission; the full weight of American justice will take you down. Now then: questions?"

Hands raised.

"Yes, Mister Pizer?"

"How many arrests so far?

"As of now, just short of two hundred and fifty." The lady Governor explained, "But with the plethora of evidence and witness testimony, that number will likely double in the next few weeks."

More hands.

"Mister Jacobs?"

"Is it true the local clergy was involved?"

"Sadly, yes. The head of the local church was selling orphaned girls to this establishment. He has since been excommunicated and arrested. Mister Douglas."

"What is the name of this civilian. Can we meet him?"

"For his own safety, he has requested anonymity. Suffice it to say without his bravery, none of this would have been possible. Also, let me add the help of some of the girls in the establishment added greatly to the operation's success. Mister Douglas?"

"What will happen to the building now? Demolition?"

"Absolutely not. This situation has truly illustrated how care for troubled young girls is lacking in this country. This place will now be repurposed as a shelter for abused and neglected children. Now then, if you all will kindly follow me, I will give you a tour of the interior."

The Governor and press entered the building.

Away from the excitement, Iggy was tossing handfuls of breadcrumbs to the hungry birds in the empty court, a content smile on his face. Agent Powell and the other girls sat on the porch and watched from a distance.

"Hasn't changed at all." Powell chuckled. "He used to feed the strays behind their restaurant- drove his parents crazy. They always said his heart was bigger than his head."

Abby turned to her.

"You knew him from before?"

"We grew up in the same neighborhood. My family used to eat at his folk's restaurant all the time. He always knew what we wanted and insisted on making it himself."

She turned serious.

"It was in the middle of our junior year when his father was murdered, and the restaurant closed. He enlisted and disappeared. I hadn't heard a thing out of him for so long I assumed the worst. I moved on and joined the FBI. When we were planning this operation, we needed someone to infiltrate the establishment but just anyone wouldn't do; the candidate needed to be free of suspicion and trusted by the local families. Everyone we considered was either in the mob's pocket or untrustworthy."

"You found him?"

"We were getting desperate. I was combing the bowery looking for likely candidates when I found him in an alley near his parent's old restaurant. Dear God, the state he was in. He saw me and asked to die."

"Geez." Rocket gasped.

"In my heart, I knew finding him was no accident. There were no treatment plans to help him, so I did it myself. That first month I had to roll him up in my rug to keep him from hurting himself. He would curse and spit at me but in his eyes, I saw the truth: his Demon was losing, and they knew it.

"One morning I woke up and found the rug empty. I panicked. I thought Iggy had run away. Instead, I found him standing naked on the fire escape in the rain. His demon was dead. His family's name still held weight with the families, so my superiors okayed him. Slipping him inside was easy."

"But you knew the danger he was in." Rocket pressed.

"Iggy volunteered. When I explained the situation, he was eager to help. He personally contacted the bosses and took the job. We gave him some money and he found his own way here. He was supposed to remain impartial, but I guess seeing what was going on inside, it was just too difficult for him- that big heart of his. After you bunch failed to kipe the mayor's lighter he asked to end the operation and I respected his decision. Everything worked out well regardless."

"Blue controlled the phone and mail. How did he communicate?"

Agent Powell produced his empty pack of ABC cigarettes and handed it to Rocket. "An empty pack meant it was all true."

She stood.

"Well, I'm done here. The President himself has asked me for a briefing on the situation. If I play my cards right, he might just kick in some funds for the new shelter."

Powell approached Iggy. They talked.

"She's so going to kiss him." Rocket whispered.

"Naw." Sweet Pea returned. "Just a hug at the most. Baby Doll?"

"Neither."

They shook hands and Agent Powell left the court for a waiting car outside.

"How did you know?" Rocket laughed.

"Just a lucky guess."

Baby Doll knew the truth and damned if she would ever tell.

Later…

Sweet Pea and Rocket stared at the phone on Blue's desk for what felt like hours. The outside line had been reconnected so the girls could call home.

"We need to call them." Sweet Pea insisted. "If we just show up Mom and Dad'll have a heart attack."

Rocket pushed the phone closer to her sister

'You do it, then."

"You're the one who got us in this mess." She rebutted, pushing it back. "You should do it."

"Yeah. But you're the older and more responsible one…"

They could bicker about this all day, but Sweet Pea knew damn well it would have ended up being her regardless. She took the receiver off the cradle.

"Remember their number?" Rocket prodded.

Of course she did. Every day for the last few years she would dream of this moment but now that the time has come, the girl was trembling with fear. She finally managed to dial their number.

One ring. Another…

"They must be out-"

A click and a voice from the other end. Sweet Pea took a deep breath.

"H-hi mom." She managed.

Mumbling from the other end.

Sweet pe, err, Betsy."

More chatter.

"Your oldest daughter?"

Rocket stifled laughter. The chatter from the other end raised in tempo.

"Yes I'm alright. Yes I…"

The chatter became loud and almost audible.

"No, I wasn't in prison. I…."

More chatter.

"Why would I join a Beatnik commune?"

Rocket broke down in uncontrollable laughter.

"I don't care if you saw it on TV."

Her sister was nearly hysterical with laughter. Finally Sweet Pea had enough.

"Brunhilda is standing right here. Would you like to talk to her?"

That snapped Rocket out of her laughing fit. She panicked and shook her head. Sweet Pea held out the receiver towards Rocket.

"Mommy's on the phone." She smiled devilishly.

"Damn you." Rocket sneered while taking the receiver.

"Hi mom." She sighed through a forced smile.

The chatter on the other end became sobs. Rocket covered the mouthpiece with her palm.

"She's crying."

Rocket uncovered the mouthpiece.

"Mom? Calm dow-"

More garbled chatter.

"I'm fine. I swear…pregnant? Why would I be pregnant?"

Sweet Pea now looked at her with smug satisfaction. Who was laughing now, eh? Rocket snarled at her sister.

"Mom! Listen to me." She yelled over her mother's fervent rambling. "We are taking a bus and should get there day after-"

Bawling from the other end of the line.

"See you in a few days. I love you."

More chatter.

"I do! I'm not lying. I really d- what? I'm not on dope!"

Finally, Rocket slammed down the receiver and collapsed. Heart attack? More like spontaneous combustion. Iggy appeared.

"How did it go?" He asked.

"Oh just swell." Sweet Pea sighed.

Rocket looked at him frightened.

"You weren't listening."

"Hmmm? Me? I would never dream of doing something so-so rude. And honestly? I feel insulted." He huffed and left the room.

"Brunhilda!" Iggy yelled.

"You rotten son of a- "She roared and ran after him.

…

The bullet-ridden and debris-littered halls were filled with reporters taking pictures and interviewing agents and the girls. Poker Tables, crates of weapons, and neat piles of narcotics were put on display much to the delight of the gathered photographers. This is probably the most excitement Vermont has seen in years. Iggy and Abby watched the pandemonium.

"So, what'll you do now? Go back to Chicago?" She asked him.

"No idea." Iggy chuckled. "I spent so much time getting ready for this thing, I never considered what I would do afterwards. Maybe find a job in town. You?"

The girl just shrugged.

"I have a suggestion." A familiar voice interrupted.

The Governor along with several of her aides appeared.

"We're organizing the staff for the new shelter and are lacking a cook. Interested?"

Iggy was taken aback.

"Really? Me? But-"

"I've been reading their depositions. All of them have mentioned everything you sacrificed to help. The children here will be needing a strong male role model and I can't imagine anyone more qualified."

His answer took no thought.

"Absolutely. I would love it."

"Wonderful. Make a list of everything you need, and I'll personally see that you get it."

She turned to Abby.

"You're more than welcome to stay too; Your strength of character will be great for the children."

Why not? It wasn't like she had anything better. The girl smiled and nodded.

"Good. Let the other girls know? "It's going to take some time before this place is on its feet and we'll need all the help we can get."

The Governor and her entourage left.

"See what you would've missed?" He whispered.

That next morning…

After the press and police left, most of the girls grabbed their possessions and ran for the hills. For the few that remained, the Governor arranged bus tickets home. Baby Doll and Iggy drove them to the bus station in the shelter's brand-new station wagon. It was bright white with "Hemingford Home" emblazoned on the sides. The Governor had named the shelter after herself. It was only fair Iggy supposed- the shelter was her idea and if the place was well-funded? Even better.

Abby exchanged hugs with Sweet Pea and Rocket, making teary promises to see each other again. Iggy watched from the sidelines.

"All aboard for Fort Wayne." The loudspeaker announced.

Sweet Pea and Rocket joined the line waiting to board the bus. Iggy handed Sweet Pea a brown paper bag.

"There's a bottle of pop, apple, and a couple of cookies inside. I've heard horror stories about food at those rest stops. Hopefully, it'll tide you over."

"Thanks for everything, Iggy." She smiled taking her bag.

"Just be happy? You earned it."

"We all have." She agreed.

Iggy handed Rocket her bag.

"Now try to stay put? I doubt your sister will chase after you the next time you decide to skip town."

"You're damn right." Sweet Pea sternly agreed.

Rocket took her bag.

"Thanks, Igor." She said, flashing her trademark devilish smile.

"You're welcome, Brunhilda."

They traded stern looks. He never thought verbal sparring could be so fun- her spunkiness was so damn intoxicating. She looked to be enjoying it too.

"Time to go, ladies." The driver advised.

Their standoff continued, both sides silent and unblinking. Well, this could go on all day, but the other passengers and her sister were getting pissy.

"Call it a draw?" He suggested.

"Alright. Alright." She laughed

One last wave and the pair climbed into the bus. With a puff of black exhaust, it pulled away from the station and sped away. Iggy felt a bit sad seeing Rocket go. He would never have children but if he could, Iggy would have loved to have a daughter like her. Never a dull moment and every day would be a battle of wills. Yet, beneath all that bluster was a big loveable heart.

Abby nudged him. "We had better get back. The contractors are due in an hour."

They headed back out of the station to the parking lot. Luckily Abby knew had to drive this monstrosity. Operating a clutch was damn near impossible with one leg.

….

Contractors floated around the asylum's hallways and rooms putting a renovation plan together. There would be different dorms separated by age groups plus a special ward for girls with special medical or mental needs. The club was becoming a multipurpose room for assemblies. In the middle of all this chaos was Abby. She was taking her new role here seriously and with her usual stubborn gusto.

Iggy busily compiled a list of needs for the kitchen.

An electric range instead of gas. How about a new walk-in freezer? And what about one of those newfangled dishwashers that could wash stacks of plates in just a few minutes? He shuddered. How about chickens? Fresh eggs would make a great addition to the kid's diets. And maybe some cows? Taking care of the animals would be great therapy and having fresh milk would be excellent too. A garden! Lord knows there is plenty of unused land around here. He felt like a kid in a candy store.

"Excuse me, sir?" A familiar voice asked.

Iggy turned to see Rocket standing in the kitchen doorway.

"Any idea where a girl can get a decent sammich around here?" She asked.

"Why didn't you go home with your sister?"

"I've never gotten along with Mom and Dad. Everything would be fine for a little while but then we would be back having the same old arguments. At least here I can help kids more screwed up than I am."

Honestly? He couldn't care about her reasons; It Just felt good to have her around. Getting this place up to snuff was going to take a lot of work and her spunkiness will come in handy.

"And your sister?"

"Didn't say a word. She knew damn well it was for the best and besides, she thinks you're a good influence."

He handed her the clipboard.

"Let's get to work, then." He smiled.

Fifteen years later…

The sun was just crossing the horizon, turning the Autumn sky purple.

Iggy sat in his rocker and puffed on his traditional morning pipe while supervising the chattering gaggle of uniformed girls raid the chicken coop. He traded his cigs in for a pipe a decade ago as he thought it added to his patriarchal image at the shelter. And damn if he didn't find it comforting too. An adult nuk? Go figure.

The twelve and below kids (or his Tater Tots as he liked to call them) oversaw the chickens and that included cleaning the coop, feeding the little buggers, and gathering the eggs. The thirteen and up squirts (The Spud Sisters) cared for the cows which entailed keeping the barn clean, feeding them, and milking. Everyone pitched in with the gardens and pigs.

Miss Abby, in her distinctive way, stood by and kept the kids on task. After all this time Iggy still found her fascinating to watch. She was one of the rare people that managed to find the balance between being a stern taskmaster and a loving caregiver. The kids were learning to be self-reliant while still feeling loved and cared for. When their original matron retired five years ago, Abby was the logical choice to take the reins.

Familiar hands found his shoulders.

"Good morning." He smiled while taking another puff.

"Morning." Rocket returned.

They watched the egg-gathering festivities.

"Heard from my sister."

"Oh? How's she doing."

"Irene got in another fight at school."

Iggy laughed. "What is it with your family and wanton violence? It must be genetic. Another bully?"

"Yeah. Been making the kindergarteners miserable for years. She broke the kid's nose and beat him over the head with his own Monkees lunchbox."

"And how many bullies does this make?"

"This year or all together?" She snickered. "Betsy asked if we could take her this Summer again."

Her daughter had spent the last two summers here. The kid is just as headstrong and fearless as her mother and made a wonderful impression on the kids.

"It's Abby's decision but shouldn't be a problem."

"And my folks were wondering if you could visit this Christmas."

"Oh, I don't know…"

She huffed.

"I don't see what your problem is. They love you! In their minds, it was you that singlehandedly saved me from a life of debauchery and drifting."

"Well, I sorta did, didn't I?"

She jokingly punched him in the shoulder. Guess not.

"Now about Christmas?"

"Well…"

"And they want you to cook dinner." She hastily added.

"I knew it." Iggy guffawed. "Always an ulterior motive with those people."

"You know neither one can boil water without burning it. Besides, a Christmas dinner without anybody being ambulanced off would be a nice change of pace."

"There's just too much to do here. There's Christmas Eve, breakfast, and dinner. Then there're the snacks for the squirts-"

"That's a no, then?"

"Not at all. Why don't they come down here? We could always use the help and it would be nice to catch up with your sister."

She considered.

"That's not a bad idea. I'll ask them."

A moment of silence passed.

"Speaking of Christmas, how's Operation Roosevelt coming along?" He asked.

It had been such a great year at the shelter, they decided to do something special for the kids. For the last several months Rocket had been working with the local church and store owners to get the girls each a personalized teddy bear. Aside from her aiding with the shelter's day to day functions, she was also their chief procurer. Need some extra heating oil this winter? No sweat. And how about some peppermint extract for candy canes? Easy peasy. Iggy knew her feistiness would be a great asset. The kids loved her too.

"Almost done. The church ladies have been great."

"And we'll have a couple extra?"

"Absolutely. No one will be left out." She assured him.

The girls gathered their egg-filled pails.

"Take them inside." Abby told the kids.

They ran up to Iggy and Rocket on the porch and excitedly showed them their egg-filled baskets. Iggy gave them a looksee and nodded.

"In you go. Breakfast in one hour."

The chattering girls toddled inside the kitchen door. Tammy stayed behind. The little Brunette came to them two years ago. The poor kid was found wandering down the highway, half insane from fear and only knowing her name. A nationwide search for family yielded nothing and she was given a home in the shelter. If by her eighteenth birthday she hadn't found a family, they will offer her a choice: strike out on her own, trade school, or work at the shelter if a spot was available. Several of their alumni have snagged college scholarships.

"What's hot, Tater Tot?" He asked.

"Can we have Chicken Soup for lunch?"

The kid was obsessed with Iggy's soup. It usually took at least three bowls before the squirt was satiated. Lord knows where she puts it; the kid was skinny as a rail. He looked thoughtful. Truthfully? He was already planning to make it but teasing their gigglers was a hobby.

"Ida know. You been behaving yourself?" He asked with mock sternness.

"Uh-huh."

"Doing everything Miss Abby and Madam Gorski has asked of you? No back sassing?"

"No, I mean yes."

"Setting fire to any of my other Tots or stealing cars?"

"No" She giggled.

"Illegal gambling or insurance fraud?"

Her giggling increased to near hysterics.

"Well…then I suppose so. But only if you help me make it."

She clapped excitedly.

"Now scram."

She ran off to join the others. Once they were safely out of sight, Abby approached. She had long since discarded her pigtails and now maintained a tight bun. Put on a little weight too. Her eyes hadn't changed at all though.

"Morning." Rocket and Iggy bid in unison.

"Got some help for you this morning. Margie. They brought her in yesterday- I'm sure you heard."

The whole building did. Abby and the nurse had their hands full dealing with that screaming bundle of nerves. Such cases were not unusual around here.

"What's her story?" Asked Rocket.

"Parents kept her locked up in their basement for years. Police found her near starved."

"Damn." Iggy sighed.

"Yeah. The nurse has cleared her but she's going to need some extra attention."

"And the parents' status?" He asked.

She knew that look in Iggy's eye. Best diffuse this in a hurry.

"Out of the picture. Doing twenty apiece."

They have had to deal with angry parents before. Iggy usually dealt with them personally, earning him a reputation of being fiercely protective of the children here. Abby suspected he had a gun stashed somewhere, luckily unused so far.

"Good. No problem." Iggy nodded.

"Then perhaps we can get breakfast on time for once?" Abby asked them sternly.

"Yes, Miss Baby Doll" Iggy and Rocket returned

She just rolled her eyes and shook her head sadly. "Just behave yourselves." She sighed and stepped inside. Truthfully, they were the only two people on the face of the Earth that can get away with calling her that. Everyone else gets sentenced to a week cleaning out the Chicken Coop.

Iggy tapped his pipe on the cement porch and stood, making his prosthetic leg click. The Governor was so pleased with the new shelter, she rewarded Iggy with a top-of-the-line prosthetic leg. It sported springs in the ankles and attached to his stump with suction cups. The pain was now just a memory.

"So. Which act should we use?" Rocket asked.

Since both of her parents participated in the girl's neglect, their matriarch or patriarch schtick wouldn't work.

"How about the cookie one?" Iggy suggested. "An oldie but a goodie."

"Sounds good."

He straightened his collar and smoothed out his beard.

"How do I look?" He asked her.

"Like a bearded pipe smoker with a gut."

"Good. I hate putting on airs."

The kitchen was twice as large as the old one and had been completely remodeled. True to her word, the Lady Governor spared no expense in getting the place modernized. All the kitchen equipment was top-of-the-line.

In fact, the only remaining feature from the old building was the studio. Miss Gorski, their resident physical trainer, uses dance to keep the squirts fit and work off all their youthful energy. When she came up for trial, Abby along with the others testified on her behalf. The judge took pity on Gorski and sentenced her to one year in prison and ten years of community service. Having no job prospects after her release, they hired her on here. Her teaching techniques have worked out well. So well, several of their former residents have become professional dancers.

Naturally the locals were skittish at the notion of having a battered girl's shelter in their backyard at first, but the place quickly became a favorite place for presidential nominees and other political hopefuls to give press conferences and photo ops. The added business quickly hushed any nay-sayers.

The kitchen appeared unoccupied, but they knew the girl was here- the new ones tend to hide on their first day. After fifteen years, Iggy and Rocket had become quite skilled at drawing them out. He cleared his throat. Showtime.

"Weren't we supposed to have some help today?" He asked aloud.

"We were." Rocket returned with the same exaggerated volume.

"Well darn. I guess no one bothered to tell her that Tater Tots that help in our kitchen are rewarded with cookies."

"Really good cookies too, Oh well…"

A skinny girl with blond ponytails popped up from behind the counter.

Bingo! Works every time.

Iggy gestured for her to come closer but the kid kept her distance. After all she had been through, it was perfectly understandable. Approaching her was out of the question as it tends to frighten them. But there are tricks to the trade. Iggy reached into a cabinet and produced the Tupperware container. He pulled off the top, revealing a hoard of chocolate chip cookies. He had to change the container's location every day otherwise the little buggers will sneak in and take them all. Rocket took one and showed it to her.

"You gotta come over here and get it though." Rocket gently advised.

The kid looked unsure of her next move.

She inched closer.

"Damn! Do these look tasty or what?" Iggy asked aloud.

Still skittish. They would have to try a different tactic. Iggy looked her right in the eyes.

"Squirt? This is the safest place in the world you can be. No one and I mean no one can harm you here. No one messes with my Tater Tots."

"He's telling you the truth." Rocket added. "Know why?"

The girl just shook her head.

"Because he's a Fed."

"Really?" The girl gasped.

"Yup. I eat mobsters for breakfast. And if anyone comes here causing trouble?" He gestured towards an old phone on the wall by the kitchen door. "All I need do is make a call and the police will be here in seconds. Now about these cookies…"

He held out the container for her to see again.

This time the girl ran up to them. Iggy took her by her minuscule waist and sat her on the counter. He took the Tupperware container and offered it to her.

"Take two."

She grabbed two of the cookies and immediately began to shove them in her mouth. Lord knows how long since the kid had comfort foods if at all.

"What's your name, squirt?" He asked her.

"Margie." She said through a mouthful of cookie.

"Well Margie, I'm Iggy and this Is Rocket."

The kid looked at her with confusion.

"Yeah, I know. Silly name" Iggy conceded "I can't tell you her real one either otherwise she'll beat me up."

"I will." Rocket agreed sternly.

"How much do you know about making scrambled eggs and pancakes, Margie?" He asked her.

Margie shrugged.

"That's good. I can teach you. It's a great skill to have."

He picked her up and set her on the floor. His big, calloused hand swallowed hers and they made their way to the waiting griddle. Rocket followed. "Did you know this place was owned by a mobster?"

"Really?" Margie gasped.

"Oh yeah. But Rocket and I took care of him, didn't we?"

"But good." She nodded- wisely skipping the whole "shooting Blue in the nuts" part.

"Are you two married?" Asked Margie.

"Hmm? No. We're just really good friends." Iggy explained.

"So, no kids?"

"I do."

"How many?"

"Counting you? Thirty-eight."

The Tots had left the baskets of eggs by the griddle as per usual. A stool for their helper was at its assigned place as well. He placed a huge mixing bowl on the counter and lifted Margie onto the stool.

Mounted on the wall above the griddle hung a metal sign advising all visitors of Iggy's kitchen rules. They read as follows:

What Iggy says, goes.

No monkey business

No rough stuff

No shenanigans

Cookies are a privilege, not a right

Complaints, refer to rule number one.

"Now then. Before we-

Bright lights blinded him.

"HEY!"

….

The penlight glared in his eyes.

"It looks like he's thinking." A young brunette woman observed.

"Trust me: he isn't thinking a thing." An older matronly lady in a white lab coat assured.

She produced a red plastic "R" shaped refrigerator magnet out of her lab coat pocket and held it to the crescent moon-shaped scar on his forehead where it stuck in place, eliciting chuckles from the young interns.

"A metal plate?"

"Yup. Look…" She gestured to the scar. "The bomb sent shrapnel into his temple, tearing out a hunk of brain the size of a baseball. It's a miracle he survived it."

"Could this even be considered survival?" A young male intern suggested.

"Depends on your definition I suppose. His heart still beats, he still breathes and blinks."

"How long has he been here?" Another asked.

"Uh, he came to us in forty-seven so going on thirty years. A real mess too. The VA kept him alone in the dark and stoned on morphine- the poor guy weighed only ninety pounds. The first thing Doctor Gorski did was get him off the drugs and put him outside in the sun. His health rebounded after that."

"But why a women's hospital?"

"The VA was closing and they were desperate for a place to put him. Plus, we get a nice little stipend from the government for keeping him here. Now if you'll follow me to our next special attraction…"

The group of young interns left Iggy and gathered across the room around another nearby wheelchair holding a similarly catatonic middle-aged blond woman.

"And here we have Abigail. She has the dubious honor of being the last lobotomy performed in our institution."

"Why was it done?" A young male intern asked.

"Mental breakdown. There was a kerfuffle over her mother's inheritance. In a fit of drunken rage, her stepfather attacked her younger sister. Abby found a gun and tried to scare him off but ended up killing her sister instead. In lieu of arrest, they brought her here."

"And when was it done?"

"Nineteen sixty."

"But lobotomies continued for several more years. Why was this the last one?" He pressed.

"There was a huge scandal with this one. Her stepfather bribed a crooked orderly to forge Doctor Gorski's signature. But besides all that, she had a bad reaction to the procedure, and it left her in a permanent semi-vegetative state. The press got involved and it created such a stink, the doctor that performed it quit the practice and Doctor Gorski banned them."

"Poor kid."

The older doctor chuckled.

"Oh, I wouldn't feel too bad for Abigail. In the few days before the procedure, she stabbed the orderly, set fire to the restraint room, incited an insurrection with some of our patients-getting one of them killed in the process, and managed to free another. A real mess. Odd thing? Right before the procedure, the surgeon claimed she looked thankful."

"Really? Why?" The Brunette intern gasped.

"No idea. And obviously by then, it was too late to ask."

"Did they at least arrest the orderly?"

"Oh yeah. Doctor Gorski caught on to him and called the police. It turns out the guy had been running the scam for years. Didn't last long in prison though; the other inmates don't take kindly to people who mutilate children."

"And the stepfather?"

"He had better lawyers and got off, but the scandal ruined his reputation. He was denied the inheritance and ended up losing everything to court costs, fines, and lawyers' fees. They found him hanging in a motel room downtown. Crazy footnote to all this? Ol' Igor here saw the whole thing: the fire, the stabbing, everything."

"How?"

"Doctor Gorski believed a change of scenery was beneficial to vegetative patients and ordered him set up in different rooms. They kept him in the kitchen mostly though- he had been an Army cook before his injury and she felt the familiar surroundings might trigger something. Her theories have been dismissed as quackery since then, though."

The older doctor turned away from Abby and gestured for her group of students to follow.

"Now if you'll follow me to the children's ward..."

The group left, save for the young brunette intern. She returned to Iggy, bent down, and looked him in the eyes.

"You're still in there, aren't you." She smiled. "I can tell…"

No response save for a blink.

"I envy you." She sighed "So far away from this horrible world. I can think of worse ways to spend my life."

"Hey Brenda?" The old doctor yelled "You're holding up the show!"

She smiled wide and winked.

"Your secret is safe with me."

The girl turned away and rejoined the group.

…..

Iggy came to splayed out on the kitchen's cold floor flanked by a panicking Rocket and young Margie.

"You okay?" Rocket asked worriedly.

"Yeah. Just lost my equilibrium there for a second. Wow."

Rocket sat him up. "I'll call the nurse-"

"No. I'm fine."

"You sure?" She sternly confirmed.

"Yeah."

"It's your smoking." She scolded. "Didn't I say it was going to be the death of you?"

"It's a pipe! Everybody knows pipes don't count. Right?" He asked the little girl. "Popeye has one and he's like two hundred years old?"

Margie stifled a giggle at the verbal melee. Another giggler!

"You're sucking that garbage into your lungs and spitting it back out. It can't be good for you." Rocket insisted.

She helped Iggy back to his feet and dusted him off.

"Oh blah blah blah. She's going to be the death of me." He winked at Margie, eliciting another giggle.

Rocket just sighed and shook her head ruefully. He won this round, but the fight was far from over.

"Now about those scrambled eggs…" Iggy continued. "Unbeknownst to most, there is a science to it. Allow me to demonstrate."

They went back to work and made breakfast.

His Demons were gone forever, and Angels danced.

Life was good.

The End

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