Chapter 7: Come into my Abbatoir

Rock blinked repeatedly, dazed, as if hungover, trying to understand what had happened and where he was.

His entire body ached. His arms and face stung. His muscles throbbed. He had the worst headache he had ever felt in his life, and his ears were ringing. The smell of smoke seem embedded in his sinuses. All in all he had felt better.

Almost no light seeped past the edges of the blackout curtains over the windows. A small area around the bed was poorly lit by a Victorian style lamp on the nightstand, the rest of the room was dark; the ceiling was black, the walls were black. A low throbbing music was playing, probably louder than he thought and the wailing litany of the song became comprehensible.

"The sheep within
Wearing wolf's skin
Weak vagiant
Amongst midgets."

"Snot and cum, piss and shit
Of this I am made - like a taste of it?"

Rock grimaced, and forced himself to sit up from the comfort of the mattress. His rising sense of uneasiness was immediately overwhelmed by a wave of nausea, and he closed his eyes. He found he was trembling, an aftereffect of the bombing.

Rock slowly opened his eyes after a while and examined the interior of the room. In the far corners were objects whose meaning could only be guessed at. In the left dangled an armless, life sized female mannequin that hung from the ceiling by a noose. It appeared that there were numerous nails embedded in the head. To the right another mannequin, small and childlike in stature was posed in a chair, the head lowered, an arm lifted.

The singer continued howling.

"The punishment
Eternal lent,
Victims be clear
You're all volunteers."

The uneasiness became more acute. There was a presence in the room besides him. Rock swung his legs over the side of the bed and breathed in deeply. It was only then that he became aware that he was not wearing his own clothes. The paisley patterned shirt hung off him and the slacks were too large. Fortunately his shoes were placed precisely on the floor as if waiting for him and he put them on with tender movements.

There were paintings on the walls, each a jarring distraction from the black décor. Rock examined the one nearest to him and felt sick; impressionistic tangles of body-parts and and entrails that matched the reality he had just recently experienced at the G Spot. He swallowed and looked away.

The seated mannequin in the right corner bothered him more and more. He shuffled over to it. It was nude, feminine, but asexual as the pose revealed – with a sheen that hinted at plastic. The elfin head with the mouth slightly parted, was framed by a wild black mane of hair that was familiar, but had to be a wig. A belt hung loosely around the spare waist, with a holster for what looked like a microphone.

Then Rock noticed the telltale scar on the throat and recoiled.

The mannequin had to be fake; the face was dead, the eyes flat and lifeless. He leaned in close, afraid to touch and passed his hands in front of the fixed gaze. If the eyes dilated, then he would know.

Nothing. "Daijobu, ok then," Rock said and stepped back. His imagination had taken flight. Of more importance was finding out why he was here and what had happened. Rock remembered diving over the table at the G Spot, Benny looking up with a bemused expression. And then there had been a moment afterwards when he had stood up in the smoke and darkness and stepped in someone's guts.

The mannequin exhaled sharply, snapped it's head around and looked at him.

"Kuso! " blurted out Rock, stumbling back in shock, and falling back over the footboard of the bed back onto the mattress. Surely he must be dreaming, a terrible nightmare. If only he could awaken.

The creature stood up, knocking over the chair. It bounded onto the dresser and then flipped into the air over the bed, a spider attacking it's prey. It landed atop his prostrate form, the wiry limbs straddling but not touching.

Rock could only gape, frozen in primal panic as the masklike features swooped to within inches of his face. The creature's breath was overpowering with ketosis, the reek of a carnivore. It reached slowly for the holster with one hand and brought the ultravoice up against the ravaged throat. He noticed that the device was now connected to the waist holster by a coiled telephone type wire. The ghost-woman had learned a lesson from her past experiences.

"Swearing is not allowed... in my home..."

Suddenly Rock could breath, "I'm sorry, very sorry." he babbled. "It won't happen again."

The lips parted, the head tilted, "That would be wise... You are the gun-girl's Prince Myshkin... are you not?"

"Wait, please, I don't understand." Rock stammered. "Are you some kind of robot?"

The remembrance of a smile almost played across the ghost-woman's face. She shifted into a kneeling position above him, moving carefully so that her thighs did not come into contact with him in any way. She raised both hands cupped to her eyes and blinked. Rock realized now that she was wearing a skintight outfit.

"Contacts... they hurt... a body suit... some paint and makeup... a concept for a kill," she shrugged slowly. "I do not think... we have met... in a polite way... I am Frederica ... Sawyer."

Rock had a look of absolute incomprehension. Sawyer pushed herself off with a graceful turn and stood poised on her toes beside the bed, hands clenched, holding the contacts. There was a look almost of pride as she gestured at the nearest painting.

"Ehh... you admire the paintings? They are originals... Sagawa's no less... I used to correspond with him when I was younger... Do you know him?"

"Sagawa's?" said Rock blankly as he pushed himself back up into a sitting position. Then full understanding struck him and before he could stop himself said "That's... that's horrible. I'm sorry, but I really need to use the bathroom."

Sawyer spun around, now her eyes were alive and glittering.

"You... Are... A... Bore..." she flung the door to the room open with a crash and stormed out.

--

"You have to understand, it's Saturday – she has to play," said the young man with the silver hair earnestly, who had introduced himself as Rotton "The Wizard." He learned forward, putting his elbows on the table. "I apologize if you found it disconcerting. Of all of us, she's the only one who's actually gainfully employed. It's very stressful running a meat packing business; the employees, the bills, the health inspectors..."

"I had the last health inspector... visit me in the abbatoir..." said Sawer with dark remembrance. She sat crosslegged on a stool, her composure regained. Dressed in a manner that reminded Rock of the girls of the Harajuku district in Tokyo. A somber display of black frills and ruffles. The knee high boots must have had a six inch sole added to the bottoms.

Rock found his testicles shrivelling at the thought. Rotton blinked, then whipped out his trademark glasses to hide his discomfort. Shenhua, however laughed in her high usual tone. She stood behind Rotton with her hands resting familiarly on his shoulders.

"How exactly did I get here," said Rock carefully, swallowing the offered aspirin and tried to hide the fact his hands were still shaking. It would not do to upset any one of these three, they were all dangerously disturbed. After all, the last time he had met them, they had all been trying to kill him. The clock on the dining room wall was at 2:50 pm.

"I was in the back-room of the G Spot speaking to the manager when it happened," said Rotton airily. With his index finger raised he pushed back on the center of the shades. "It was a matter of mutual benefit..."

"I told him to get a job," said Shenhua bluntly. "What a load of mai gai seng! We can't keep leaching off of poor little Sawyer here."

"I don't mind..." Sawyer looked down shyly.

Rotton winced, "As I was saying: I was in the back speaking to the manager when suddenly the whole place went to pieces. I don't know how else to explain it. My first thought was to check out what had happened from the back alleyway, but the hired help were impeding my egress. I decided I had best see who needed help, so I went onto the bar floor..."

"He was pissing his pants," interrupted Shenhua with a squeal.

"... and there you were," said Rotton grimly. "that surfer dude guy you hang out with was pinned behind a table against a railing and looked pretty bad. There was smoke, fire, body parts all around, but you were stumbling about with nothing going for you but the whites of your eyes. "

"And..." said Rock taking another sip of water.

"Well... I brought you back here," said Rotton lamely. "Made sense. Usually when something goes down in this burg, the Lagoon Company is somehow involved. I thought someone would try to finish you off so I exited you out the back when those idiot cooks were finally clear. Figured we could do you a favor, sort of make up for the whole burning down the warehouse thing. You were completely out, so we let you sleep it off in the bedroom. Sawyer got you dressed, said you needed a change in appearance."

"I don't quite follow," murmured Rock. He knew the territory now, and steadfastly refused to consider the mental image of a cheerful Sawyer playing dress-up with his body while he was unconscious. He brought the tips of his fingers together and brought them to his lips waiting.

"The girls need work," explained Rotton. "After that whole fiasco, Mr. Chang didn't even call Shenhua. He's cut her off. I even spent my own money to help cover her medical bills...I mean it's not a problem for Sawyer but..."

"Really... it's not a problem..." Rock looked at her sharply and the small woman became suddenly preoccupied, pulling down the long frilled sleeves over her wrists.

"Fucking nun," spat Shenhua furiously. The Taiwanese woman looked as if a small animal had become lodged in her mouth and was fighting it's way out.

"If it wasn't for Sawyer we'd be out on the street," finished Rotton. "So I thought if we could somehow be, you know, like subcontract out for Black Lagoon if the need ever arose."

"It will be considered," said Rock dryly, looking at the clock. It was 2:58 pm. "You wouldn't happen to have any cigarettes would you?"

"I don't smoke," said Rotton. Both Shenhua and Sawyer shook their heads.

"Wait, there's more," said Rotton quickly. "We have a police scanner and heard what happened afterwards. There was a huge explosion down on the docks at the south end, looks like your boat got destroyed. Second, the entire police force of Roanapur went on high alert, if you can believe that. Sounds like they went after your girl friend in a big way."

Rock had learned over the past few months that there was nothing better than a poker face in these situations. If Rotton was willing to divulge information without prompting, all the better. He leaned back in the chair, though the sick feeling was rising in his stomach again.

"What happened," he prompted.

"Stupid slut make big mess," said Shenhua rudely. "Messed up market day. Police all pissed off 'n stuff. But I know what you thinking, she's not in the happy wagon, she got away."

It was 3:00 pm. Rock cleared his throat. "Excuse me, I need to use the phone."

Acknowledgements: Thank you to "Just Another Soul" for reviewing this chapter and for writing "Immaculate."