"So... what's on your mind?" Fritz said with a tremulous voice.
The coffee shop was as mellow as always, with only a few other patrons besides Jeremy and Fritz scattered around at their separate tables. There were two baristas standing behind the polished counter chatting and sneering about a new celebrity scandal, both completely oblivious that they work just a few buildings away from the most powerful mob in the city that recently beat a guy to death in the alleyway.
Fritz was looking down at the table with a smile on her lips but not in her eyes. She was definitely trying to find anything to look at other than Jeremy. She mindlessly tapped her yellow fingernails on the table.
"I think you know the answer to that," Jeremy retorted coldly and sipped his coffee.
Fritz bit her lower lip and clenched the hand she had resting on the table. "Yeah, I know you knew," Fritz muttered.
"What the hell Fritz?" Jeremy hissed, making sure to lower his voice to not be overheard by the other patrons, "Why didn't you even hint that this job could get me killed if I fuck up? Not even a subtle 'How was your day, also you just started working for a gang' when we met for coffee a few weeks ago."
"I know, I know," Fritz replied, "But you gotta consider what would happen to me if I let any info about the gang stuff to you slip. I'd probably end up like that guy you beat up in the alleyway, and things'd be worse for you too. People screwing up and making Fransisco way more irritable just ruins that atmosphere for everybody."
"Okay, okay, say you couldn't warn me about the background gang shit. You could've at least warned me about Ben."
"I didn't think it was that big of a deal," Fritz commented, "Ben usually doesn't interact with newbies that early on in their career there. It's usually at least a couple of weeks before he makes any moves." A devious grin grew on her face and she snickered. "Maybe he's got the hots for you. I could see why he would."
Jeremy felt his cheeks grow hot. "Wha- ew, fuck that! Damn, I knew he was gay." He rested his head on his hand and glanced out the window for a moment at the copious amount of pedestrians strolling down the sidewalk. He then turned back to Fritz. "Does he like to threaten people he likes to slit their throats?"
"Eh, it's his thing," Fritz said with a smirk, "He's supposed to keep the lackies in line and not try to rebel. But who knows, maybe you'll grow attracted to him. People who sleep with him usually get some pretty damn good benefits. And I heard he's not too bad in bed either."
Jeremy nearly spit out his coffee. "Fritz, keep your voice down!" he yell-whispered.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Fritz replied in a sassy tone, intentionally raising her voice to piss off Jeremy, "I was just talking about how Ben is a total slut for big, muscular behind all those fancy get-ups of his."
With a quick smack to the arm, Fritz shut herself up. She had to take a little while to cease her laughing fit while Jeremy's cheeks still remained red. A few of the coffee shop patrons looked over at the two momentarily before returning to their own business.
"But for reals," Fritz said finally, "You never know; maybe you're just a lil gay and you may actually like doin' the dirty with Ben."
"Oh, I'm sure that'll happen anytime soon," Jeremy huffed sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. He finished the rest of his coffee and ran his fingers through his hair. Although Jeremy wasn't surprised that Ben was a gay secret slut, he wasn't so thrilled with the possibility of Ben getting attracted to him.
"By the way," he commented, "What's the deal with Mangle? Does she actually do work for Fransisco, or is he just her sugar daddy and buys her jewelry to keep her from going berserk?"
"Sugar daddy? Nah," Fritz responded, "To be honest, Mangle still is kind of a mystery to a lot of us. We don't know much about her, and most of the staff never really sees her. Though I heard through the grapevine that she specializes in torture and just breaking people from the inside and out. It would definitely suit psycho shtick she's got going on."
"Torture? Yeah I can see it. What's her story anyways? Is she a convict or a former mental patient or what?"
"I dunno. But I think her mental deal is something about the way she looks. Like right before she locked herself away for about a month, she used to not wear nearly as much makeup and accessories. Then that incident with the kid happened…"
"Kid?" Jeremy asked, "Does she have a kid?" He thought about his encounter with Mangled last night. Is the giggle he heard then the giggle of her child?
"No, I'd be really surprised if someone even got her to take her dress off, let alone have sex," Fritz corrected, lowering her voice, "'Kay, so last month during the day Fransisco had some 'friends' over to the place for drinks and shit, right? Well, one of them brought their, like, six year-old for some smart reason and Fransisco let Maggie, what everyone used to call her, and Cheyenne take the kid to one of the back rooms to draw and color and all that good stuff. See, at that time Maggie was a lot more sane and calm, so they figured she'd be great with the kid. Cheyenne was back there with her for good measure, because the Fransisco was still unsure of how it'd go over.
"During all this I was getting near the end of my shift, and since that room has no camera, I figured I don't have to worry, right? Anyways, all was good for like forty minutes. But then I heard this loud wail like somebody was getting killed. I ran over to the room to see Maggie barely being held back by Cheyenne with one hand covering her face and the other trying to claw at the child. Her mask was thrown a little ways away on the floor, the string snapped. The kid had obviously been hit to the floor and was bawling and holding his cheek. Apparently Maggie swiped at him and one of her rings scratched his cheek, and Maggie was out for blood. She was spewing all of these cries like 'He saw my face!' or 'Don't look!' in a blood-curdling voice."
"Yeesh," Jeremy commented, "Guess age doesn't matter if someone messes with her looks."
"Yeah, she was beyond pissed," Fritz continued, "So I go to help Cheyenne hold her back, but neither of us were having much effect. Then Fransisco and Ben ran in, followed by all his acquaintances crowding at the door, and was able to fully hold Maggie back while getting so scratches along his arm and kicks to the leg. The mother of the kid went to comfort her child and Ben picked up the mask before helping Fransisco drag her out. Cheyenne and I helped console the kid and the angry parents. "
"So she locked herself away for a month?"
"Basically. No one saw or heard from her for all that time. God knows what she did during then. Word about the whole thing got around pretty quickly because the gossip was burning a hole in Ben's head and he blabbed to a couple of higher up workers, and it spread from there. I never saw Mangle's face personally, so all I got for a mental image is Ben's rumors. Ben's the one who called her 'Mangle' first, and the name caught on almost instantly."
Jeremy shook his head. "Damn, that's harsh."
Fritz nodded in agreement. "Yeah, but what can ya do? Mangle doesn't mind that nickname; the only one who does seem to care is Cheyenne. She says 'it's rude to say that about a mentally ill woman' and stuff like that, and she's not wrong, but who cares?" She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly and adjusted the bow in her hair.
"Did you... actually see her face?" Jeremy inquired.
"No," Fritz said with a shake of her head, "But Ben said it really was mangled. Lots of scars that were probably self-inflicted. Though I wouldn't that guy's word for it; he just loves to stir up controversy."
It was weird to admit, but Jeremy actually felt pretty sorry for Mangle. Being alienated from everyone else in her workspace and called names behind her back and she wasn't in the right mind to stop it- just like a kid being bullied in high school. Though Fritz had a point; if it wasn't hurting anybody nor the person in question, why try to fight it?
"Still should've told me about all this," he murmured, "About the crazy people in this business."
Fritz cocked an eyebrow. "Why should've I risked getting killed for you?" she asked.
"I thought because we're friends," Jeremy replied.
The angry look on Fritz's face and the folding of her arms was definitely not the reaction Jeremy hoped for. Fritz was now staring bullets into him with an annoyed aura forming around the table. "Oh, now you're using the friend excuse? You sure weren't open to the idea until ten minutes ago."
"Huh?" Jeremy said flatly, caught off-guard by Fritz's response.
"Don't play stupid with me; you know you wanted nothing to do with me when it didn't benefit you," Fritz snapped, "You think I didn't notice your sour attitude whenever I tried to be friendly? You did anything to get lil' ol' Fritz Smith to shut up so you can go back to your apartment to smoke and drink."
Jeremy's heart dropped. Guess Fritz learned to pick up on social cues a lot better than she did in high school.
"W-Well," Jeremy spat, trying to look for something to say in return, "You should've laid off on talking to me every chance you got. Hearing you run on about your obnoxious neighbors isn't something I wanna hear at six in the morning."
"I didn't wanna see you become a miserable outcast in your own workplace, so I thought I was doing the right thing by reaching out to you. Guess I was wrong."
"Maybe I wanna be alone!" Jeremy barked.
A heavy silence sat between the two for half a minute. Jeremy was breathing heavy and his fists in balls on the table, but did his best not to look too hurt. His head was looking out the window, but he could see his table mate from the corner of his eye. Fritz was just as angry and not as good with hiding it, tears visibly welding in her eyes as she looked down. Still, Jeremy didn't want to storm off in anger today. He didn't want to admit it, but he didn't want Fritz to leave him like everyone else did.
"Sorry," he muttered quietly, not turning from looking out the window.
"Sorry," Fritz meekly agreed.
One by one, the other patrons of the establishment went back to their own affairs. The baristas were now back to work filling out orders for two waitresses on break that were joking about their coworkers.
The sickening sound of the metal door unlocking and creaking open echoed throughout the barren basement. The blinding light filled the room, shedding light on the gray walls and gray floor. A roach skittered away to cower away in a dark gray corner in fear of being squashed by merciless human.
Ben stepped into the basement all dressed up in his pale blue vest and white pants like always. Despite wearing his signature white gloves, he still felt disgusted being in such an unclean place with unclean people. Though somebody had to do the dirty work, and there was no way any of the average workers could be trusted with such a dirty deed.
In his hands was a tray that had a glass of water and a stale loaf of leftover bread from the nearby bakery Fransisco was "protecting". He carefully strolled down the stairs and glanced around the room as he walked. There were two people, a handless blonde girl and an older brunette man, huddled close to each other against the left as they slept, their only time of peace. Another man with faded red hair was hunched over and muttering incoherently to himself. One last body was leaning against the far right corner.
"Good morning, you pathetic minks," Ben called out mockingly, "I hope everyone's day has been lovely so far." No response, as usual. "A little bluebird told me one of you is refusing their meals, and we all know how we simply can not have that."
Ben strolled over to the far right corner and looked down upon the nearly motionless body that only moved to faintly breath. Their hair was greasy and a faded lavender color, though most of it was covered by the thick layer of bandages around their head and one eye. They were wearing a tattered purple shirt that was soaked with dried blood and ripped where their arm had also been forcibly amputated (this was also patched up with heavy duty bandages).
"Wake up, filthy mutt," Ben sneered, "You think you can escape by starving yourself? You really are an idiot, aren't you?"
The bandaged person looked up with their one good eye. "It was a good try," they replied emotionlessly.
"Oh, want to be smart now?" Ben remarked, lowering the tray down to the person's face and forcing a passive-aggressive smile, "I'm trying to be nice, you know. The others would be much harsher to you; you should be grateful I'm taking pity on someone like you." The other person turned their head away like a stubborn child refusing to eat their vegetables.
"Bullshit. Just let me starve already," they muttered, "If you're just gonna end up killing me eventually, let me make it easier for you by doing it myself. You'll get less blood on your prissy little hands."
Ben's smile instantly faded and he took a deep breath. He set the tray on the floor and picked up the glass of water with one hand as the other roughly turned the prisoner's face to face him. "Alright, you lost the privilege of me showing any mercy," he growled.
One of his dress shoes pressed firmly into the other's stomach to keep them from struggling as Ben forcibly opened their mouth. He quickly emptied the tap water into their mouth without warning and forced their jaw to clamp shut so they drank it all. He stepped back and stormed off in utter disgust as the prisoner sputtered onto the floor and choked on the liquid without the least bit of dignity. The plastic tray with the bread on in was left on the floor, though it wasn't a potential escape tool for any of them, so he figured someone else can take it back up eventually.
The handless girl, who had been woken up by the whole event, rushed over to comfort the one-armed person in a gesture that resembled a hug. Quite a pitiful sight.
"Let this be a reminder to all of you filthy animals!" Ben barked, "Eat your meals when they are given, and things will go much smoother for all of us."
He slammed the basement door with a loud bang as he felt wrath and disgust well up inside of him, waiting to burst at any second. He couldn't wait to scrub his hands down to get rid of the filth he had to experience just being down there and actually touching one of those foul creatures.