A cursory glance of the interior had Dogen realizing the theater was rather small. The massive screen displaying various credits and aerial shots of an average, no-name town was normal, but the seating arrangement surprised Dogen. He estimated only fifty seats with three rows of ten in the center and the other twenty in twin columns spanning the walls and short staircase. Raz quickly ducked into a seat on the right side of the wall near the exit, and Dogen followed, comfortable with the aisle seat in case the movie was too much for him. The title had already disturbed him enough with its insinuation of animal cruelty.

There were a handful of people in different seats. A quadrant of women had taken up most of the front row with their bags and jackets. Dogen found a middle-aged man slumbering on the far left of the center row, possibly having nodded off during the previous showing. In the center of the final row, where Raz and Dogen had the advantage of peering down from a safe elevation, was Mirtala and Bobby, who was deep in explanation on what the movie entailed.

"...so, Jamie and Carlisle have to manage both their careers in the slaughterhouse and try to make it nice at home for their families," he said, Raz glaring daggers at the back of his head. "Y'know, since their wives and kids think they're coworkers at a dinghy insurance company."

"Oh, that explains the 9 to 5 part in the title. They're like salarymen," she said, and Bobby nodded, taking a quick sip from his can of soda.

He cleared his throat. "Exactly. The plot gets kind of messy with some scenes that were obviously cut short for time. There's also this huge fiasco about the divide in labor classes and generational wealth that goes on for too long, but it's the third act and grotesque special effects making this flick a cult classic." He sighed. "Just roll with this really long scene where the detectives try piecing it together. It's like the director didn't have any faith in the audience figuring out the motives."

"Wow. And they tried fitting all of that in just ninety minutes?" Mirtala asked, tilting her head.

"You can tell where the director had to make a bunch of cuts that were really unnecessary. I swear, it's how the killings are done and the third act were everything meshes together in a beautifully ugly twenty-five minutes of carnage that makes this movie worth it," Bobby said, lacing his fingers and squeezed. "You'll know what I mean when it all plays out."

At his mischievous tone, Mirtala rubbed her hands together. Her giggling glee was evident as the scenic imagery faded to black. Raz hummed next to Dogen, his foot beginning to tap at a rapid pace. The movie had only just begun, and Raz' agitation was palpable. Dogen patted his knee and reminded him to not attract unwanted attention. Raz' lips twitched in a compliant grin, but he had to hold down on his thigh to control his jitters.

Lifting the rim of his baseball cap, he watched Raz reach into his coat pocket. His eyes widened as Raz quickly shoved on a pair of sunglasses and wrapped a gray face mask around his ears. Dogen took a breath, but Raz pointed at the screen, and Dogen was surprised to find a character pulling out the same accessories from his glove compartment.

Makes me blend in more, huh? It's like I'm a fan of this schlock, Raz thought, and Dogen chuckled, admitting it was a clever ploy.

The movie continued as normal. Dogen glanced up every so often, not entirely interested in what he deemed a drab opening of a phone call laced with obvious code words for murder. The man, Carlisle, was a strapping insurance salesman, but it was clearly a cover. After waving hello to the neighborly florist, the peaceful town was left behind.

In its wake, the interior of the insurance office was normal to a deceptive degree. Carlisle greeted the receptionist and made small talk about the contents of the morning paper. His coworker, Jamie, was already ahead of him down the hall of cubicles and chattering employees at their desks. They asked each other about their wives and what they made for dinner. They laughed at a corny joke quipped by their boss, who greeted them at a wooden door at the corner of the office.

When he opened it, everything changed. A scream ripped through the corridor, followed by a squelch and a splatter. The employees continued as if nothing had happened. Jamie and Carlisle, dressed in their Sunday's best disguises, sauntered down the stairs. As they walked, blood drippings became puddles. People wailed behind grimy, rustic cells and were wet with knife slashes from similarly dressed salesmen. Other tools of murderous trade lined carts handled by assistants in dresses and smocks, and tripods holding cameras filmed every inch of the victim's torment.

Dogen pursed his lips. He shot a glance at Raz and nibbled on his lower lip. Raz' mouth fell agape. They both knew what was coming, but Raz' attention fell squarely on Mirtala, who watched with her hands on her cheeks while Bobby casually observed, whispering to her with plot details that she missed in her awe.

"So, it's more than just them? They're all in on it? What about those guys in the cubicles?" she murmured back, her eyes focused on the screen as Jamie and Carlisle were given lists from their boss.

"Just a facade. Keeps the place looking busy in case there's a bust." Bobby shrugged. "I mean, hell, this is kind of obvious since it's one locked door away from being discovered, but they all play their part to get a paycheck."

Raz fidgeted with his mask when Mirtala nodded. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the chair in front of him. Dogen tugged the box of chocolate macadamias out of his pocket, ripped it open, and popped a few treats in his mouth. As he savored the sweetness, he gently nudged Raz when Mirtala leaned into Bobby, muttering something in his ear, which was far too close for Raz' comfort.

Dogen tugged on Raz' jacket. Easy, Raz. Remember your training. Rule 38.

Raz took a deep, calming breath through his nose. He reclined and pinched his fingers together, assuming a meditative pose. Rule 38. Nothing is as it seems. There are always different interpretations for an action that you might not understand.

He chuckled. Raz could recite any mantra from the Psychonauts handbook when prompted. Dogen only wished he adhered to them during missions, recalling how Raz had brazenly risked life and limb on numerous occasions. And some of those limbs had belonged to Dogen.

The movie continued with a cynical fervor for gore. The overall plot that Dogen understood was one of people trying to earn a living. Carlisle and Jamie were a pair among many who killed kidnapped victims at the request of high-paying customers. Whether the victim had committed a crime against them or stiffed them a bill, if the customer had the dough, then their victim ended up on the chopping block. And the customer was always right, ordering over the phone how they wanted the victim to die. Jamie and Carlisle abided by their wishes, even if Carlisle grimaced at some of the more cruel manners of death such as feeding someone their own intestines straight out of their vivisected torso.

Wow. He's remorseful. I guess that's one way to show his humanity, Raz thought, rolling his eyes. No wonder Bobby thinks this movie is good. He's got guts for brains.

Well, at least this movie lives up to its name. They are in a slaughterhouse, and they are killing from 9 to 5, Dogen replied, and Raz snickered, nodding.

But as the minutes stretched on, Dogen was bored. The killings were graphic, and the effects were intriguing, but it wasn't enough to captivate his interest for long. He slouched in his seat, still keeping an eye on Mirtala. She occasionally glanced down at her hand, and he assumed she had a watch. Dogen noticed through the spacing in the chairs that her arm seemed strangely tense when he glanced down at her, and her hand fidgeted toward her lap.

Bobby smirked at her "You doin' alright? Too much blood for ya?"

She flicked popcorn at his face. "Not a chance, hotshot."

Hey! Did she just call him-?

Rule 38.

RIght. Rule 38. Thanks, Dogen.

It was a breath of fresh air when the killers were done for the day. They returned to their respective home where their happy families waited for them. With food on the table, a smiling wife, and kids who needed better acting skills, what ensued were very typical dinner scenes.

"Aw, they really love their wives. That's so sweet for a pair of killers who just worked together to rip someone's arms off a minute ago," Mirtala cooed, leaning back in her chair. Carlisle presented his wife, whose name Dogen was certain hadn't yet been uttered, with a bouquet.

"Yeah, it's part of their humanity. They might be cold on the outside, but they're just doing their day jobs," Bobby said, and Raz rolled his eyes even harder, Dogen stifling a laugh.

Mirtala stared at him, Dogen seeing only the back of her head, but her question invoked her teasing. "Aw, are you a big softie, too, Bob-o? I know you like romantic rock songs, so this movie does fit the bill for you."

Bobby sputtered for a split second. It was enough for Raz to shoot up in his chair, fists clenched at his sides. He crushed his soda can, sending sugary liquid on the seats in front of them and covering Raz' glove. Dogen immediately seized his waist and forced him to sit. Raz struggled, but a stern glare from Dogen commanded him to remain still. A girl from the front row looked over her shoulder, but she returned to pouring candy in her mouth when she found nothing out of the ordinary.

Raz! Rule 38! Remember Rule 38! Dogen entreated, furrowing his brow.

Raz groaned and grinded his teeth. His stress ebbed off him. But he crossed his arms and kicked his legs up on the seat, appearing more than conspicuous. Rubbing his temples, he squared his shoulders and sat properly.

Rule 38. Ruuule 38. That is a rule that I'm supposed to follow because I am a Psychonaut, and I never lose my cool under pressure, he thought, his words entirely unconvincing to Dogen.

The film continued. Intermixed with the violence were shots of the wives becoming suspicious. It was the bloody droplets on the roses that kickstarted the nameless wife's confusion about her husband's work. In-between the wives' playing detectives, Carlisle became increasingly dissatisfied with his job and argued against maiming a teenage girl, who had gone to the police after one client alleged she lied about his son's severe bullying. Dogen supposed that was the beginning of the commentary between labor classes, but the heavy-handed dialogue killed his interest, and he closed his eyes, keeping an ear open to listen when Bobby spoke again minutes later.

"Heh. You're really into the romances," Bobby remarked with a smirk. Dogen peered at the screen, finding Carlisle bringing his wife to a candlelit dinner in an upper class part of town.

"I think Carlisle is sweet," Mirtala chirped, and she sipped her water.

Bobby seemed baffled. He gave her his full attention, asking, "'Sweet?' I've never heard anyone call him 'sweet.'"

"Well, he loves her so much, and they love their family," she replied, rummaging through her half-eaten popcorn. "Yeah, there's blood and guts, but there's also a tragic romance coming undone at the seams. She suspects him, and he wants to keep her clean from all the evils in the world."

Bobby hummed, glancing between her and the characters. Carlisle gently brushed his knuckles on his wife's cheeks, his eyes brimming with tears. He opened his mouth, Dogen suspecting he was ready to confess, when a waiter informed Carlisle his office called and needed him immediately.

Scratching through his hair, Bobby muttered, "Wow. I never saw it that way. It is pretty tragic, ain't it?"

Dogen checked for Raz' reaction. Raz seemed relaxed, as if the conversation was acceptable. He even took time to watch the movie instead of zeroing in on them like a hawk. Dogen sensed the previous tension was completely gone, erased as Carlisle murmured his apology and left his wife at the table. As the waiter reached over for the check, she stopped him and requested for him to write down the specific phone number for her, insisting she had forgotten it.

"Even now, she's trying to reach out to him. Sure, it's totally behind his back because her whole family will die if the truth is leaked, but that's what makes the romance even more tragic," Mirtala said, and Bobby slowly nodded, amazement on his face. But she suddenly pointed to his chin. "Oh, you have some chocolate on your lips."

Dogen could feel Bobby's face heating up, the blood rising to his cheeks. As he heard Raz coughing up a laugh into his hand, Bobby swiped his tongue on his lower lip. Mirtala told him he missed. He aimed the back of his hand toward his mouth, but Mirtala stopped him, telling him she would help.

Dogen thought his eyes were going to bulge out of his skull when Mirtala leaned her face toward Bobby and slowly tilted her head.

At that moment, popcorn and chocolate macadamias exploded all around Dogen. Their paper bags combusted in a heartbeat. Their snacks scattered to the floor and rolled down the stairs with a clamor. The explosion rattled the women in the first row, who all turned around trying to find the source of the noise that had been louder than the revving chainsaws used on a poor man's head. Even the sleeping man was startled out of his slumber with a short shriek.

Mirtala pointed at Bobby's upper lip and said, "It's smudged at the tip."

Dogen heaved out an audible sigh as Bobby wiped his mouth. It was a misunderstanding. For a second, Dogen thought he had a small accident. But he knew he was wearing a special hat. That left only one suspect. Sucking in a shaky breath, Dogen gazed up at Raz.

Raz had the visage of a killer more gruesome than anything the movie could muster. His breathing was rapid, his heart thundering so loudly Dogen could have sworn he heard it. Raz' fingers twitched on the chair in front of him, his jitters going haywire like one of Gisu's malfunctioning mechanisms. Reminding him of Rule 38 was not going to solve anything.

But to his continued surprise, Raz bolted from his seat. He stretched his hands down his cheeks, his mask slipping off as his skin sagged. His bones cracking as he peered over his shoulder, he thought, Dogen! I'm getting some fresh air! Tell me if anything happens! If they actually kiss, blow Bobby's head up!

Stupefied, Dogen nodded. He couldn't form any words to reassure Raz. As Raz marched out of the theater, Dogen uncapped his bottle of water and downed half of it..

As the doors behind Raz slammed shut, the lights brightened. Dogen squinted. He wondered if an employee supervising the movie had been some kind of mistake. The screen dimmed, and to Dogen's horror, understanding that it was certainly not an error, a single word appeared.

INTERMISSION

Out of habit, he turned invisible. The women in the front row gathered their belongings, and the slumbering man hobbled out of the theater. He had no idea why the movie cut to a sudden break. It made no sense in the context of the film when Carlisle was forced to go to work.

Wait.

While the women sauntered toward the doors, it came to him. Bobby and Mirtala were not leaving. Instead, they sat and stared ahead at the word. Neither spoke or touched their snacks. Dogen slowly turned to them, quietly lifting his baseball cap and rubbing his head.

Raz was louder than any scream in this movie, so why didn't they react?

Dogen watched in silent wonder as Mirtala raised her fist. She uncurled one finger at a time. And in her palm was a compact mirror aimed directly at him. When she snapped it shut, Dogen came to a second realization that forced him out of his invisibility.

She wasn't looking at a watch. She was looking at my reflection in the mirror between the seats, and I didn't catch on because I was focusing on her face.

Over her shoulder, Mirtala finally acknowledged him with a smile so thin it was like a wire. And while Bobby glared at him as if he was ready to throw Dogen off a cliff, she exclaimed, "Hi, Dogen! I hope you have a good explanation for this for your sake!"

Dogen gulped.