Another blow was delivered to the poor guy's already beaten and bloody face. He spat out blood from his mouth onto the pavement and awaited the next blow. His punisher was ready to deliver another reminder of why he shouldn't screw up again, but the conductor of the beating raised his hand.

"That's enough, Jeremy," Ben ordered, "I know this is only your second time, but do try to hold back, dear. We need to keep all of his teeth in his mouth so he may look presentable for work on Monday."

Jeremy did as he was instructed and lowered his fist and stood to his feet. Adrenaline was beating through his heart and veins. He hadn't felt this alive in forever. For some odd reason, something about a human punching bag he's encouraged to hit really got him pumped up; he almost felt disappointed he couldn't hit the guy again.

Ben stepped over to the bloodied man and knelt down. His trademark smile was ever prominent as he held the man's chin in his fingers. "Now do you regret calling me a 'creepy faggot' earlier?" he asked softly, like a mother to an upset child.

The man nodded his head quickly. "Y-Yes…" he muttered quietly through the blood from his nose and mouth. Ben chuckled and raised back up to his feet. He roughly pushed the guy to the ground and slammed his white shoe on the poor guy's head, pinning him to the ground.

Even when Ben was being sadistic and cruel, he still had a factor of elegance in his movements; he reminded Jeremy of a graceful ballet dancer- precise and graceful

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that? I must have some wax in my ears," Ben sneered, crushing the other man beneath him and smearing the flesh of his cheek into the prickly pavement.

Although the other man had no intention of fighting against this humiliation, he still squirmed. He deserved it. After all, he knew the consequences of lashing out like that to a superior, and so did everyone else.

"I-I'm… so sorry that I called you a faggot." the man sputtered pitifully, "Please I b-b-beg for your f-forgiveness, sir."

Ben gave a sadistic grin and crushed him harder, folding his arms over his chest and gazing upon his broken prey. The other gang members in the group snickered at the sight, except for Jeremy. Jeremy still wasn't infected by the curse of malice that seemed to have poisoned everyone's minds around there. Though the pathetic display of the man on the ground was a tad funny, he had to admit.

Soon the bullies had stopped tormenting the troublemaker and Ben stepped back. "Charlie, be a dear and take him inside. Throw him in the break room and give him some whiskey; that always seems to do the trick for the others," He instructed one of the larger men, who must've been Charlie. Charlie nodded and slung the broken man over his shoulder, both of them soon disappearing into the building. The rest of the men filed in behind Charlie.

Jeremy went into the building with the others and was shortly greeted by Payton running past him. "S-Sorry," he muttered as he practically shoved through the group of men and frantically burst through the back door. One of the men rolled his eyes and went to the break room after Charlie.

Jeremy wondered if his wife ever nagged Payton for being out so late, and if she even knew the real reason why he worked so late. 'Maybe she's just too oblivious to be suspicious,' he assumed.

After Payton was gone, Francisco came out of his office with another man. The man was albino from head to toe- pale skin, greasy hair that was close to white in color, and light blue eyes that carried heavy bags. He was wearing a deep purple collared shirt and black slacks. He looked at Jeremy with his unamused eyes, giving Jeremy am uncomfortable feeling as they made eye contact. Something about him was just unsettling.

Francisco smirked when he saw Ben, who came up from behind Jeremy. "Ah, you're done," he mused, "What's the damage?"

"Some cuts and bruises, but he'll be back to work by Monday," Ben replied, grinning, "I'll make sure he does."

The two men laughed, though Jeremy and the albino man stayed silent. Perhaps the albino was one of the few non-malicious members of the gang and was just in it for the money. Or maybe he gave no fucks about anything, which Jeremy could relate to. The albino looked over at Fransisco. "'m gonna grab my stuff n' head out," he mumbled, motioning to Fransisco's office with his head.

Fransisco nodded. "See you tomorrow night," he replied, giving a short hand motion to see him off. He glanced back at Jeremy with his icy eyes before turning to walk into Fransisco's office. The dude was definitely a strange, but then again, Mangle made him see normal. A delicate hand was placed on Jeremy's shoulder and he turned to a smiling Ben.

"Jeremy," said Ben in an inviting tone, "Could I interest you to come to my apartment for a drink or two?"

Jeremy raised an eyebrow. It was natural to be suspicious about Ben's sudden gesture, especially after how rough their first encounter was. But that was in the past, and he had learned to tolerate, and maybe even like, Ben; he was articulate, charismatic, and made great conversation when Jeremy was sharing some smokes with other workers. Plus free booze was involved. "Uh, sure." he responded hesitantly.

Ben smiled at Jeremy's acceptance, but Fransisco shot him a glare almost immediately. "No you're not," he ordered Ben, "I need to talk to you about some… important things, so postpone your bonding time." The Brit's smiled faded momentarily, giving Fransisco an annoyed look, then smiled apologetically at Jeremy and shrugged his shoulders. Fransisco sighed and turned around, walking back into his office.

"So sorry, dear," Ben apologized as he followed Fransisco, "Perhaps in a few weeks or so."

"Yeah, bye," Jeremy muttered with a nod. He began heading over to the break room to get his own coat and cell phone when he brushed by the albino guy. The guy had kept his monotone expression as he and Jeremy exchanged eye contact. A strange chill ran up Jeremy's spine, but he ignored it.

The break room had Charlie, the beaten guy (who's name tag read Toby), and another man- whom Jeremy recognized to be Jack, an Irish evening shift janitor- sitting at the table. Charlie was smoking, Toby had his head down on the table, and Jack was talking to the two of them. The three men looked at Jeremy as he walked in.

"Hey, Fitzgerald," Charlie greeted after taking out his cigarette, "How'd you like your second time? Betcha felt that rush this time."

"N-Not really," Jeremy lied. He shot Toby an apologetic glance. "Sorry. Didn't mean to hit that hard."

Toby glanced up. His nose had been bandaged up and wiped of blood by now, but he still looked truly awful. "'s OK, I deserved it," he murmured, putting his head back down.

Jack patted the seat next to him at the table with a grin. "Wanna take a load off?" he asked in his thick accent, "Still some whiskey left, and you don' seem to be driving soon."

While the offer was tempting, Jeremy had to decline. "Nah, I'm gonna go home tomorrow." Jack shrugged his shoulders and leaned back in his chair as Jeremy picked his coat up from the table. He took a cigarette of his own out of his pocket and lit it in his mouth, a puff of killer smoke rising out of his mouth shortly after.

"Ya see Payton? He's gonna face the devil when he gets home," Charlie commented.

Thinking back to a few minutes ago, Jeremy did catch a glimpse of Payton's distressed face. "Yeah," he replied, "Didn't think his wife was that on top of how late he works. You think she's one of those abusive types?"

The two awake men snorted and Jack shook his head. "No, no, Erika's not like that. 'Bout the sweetest woman a guy could have- can't imagine her hurting a roach," he corrected.

"Sure be nice to have a girl like that," Charlie added with a smirk, "All I got was that whale, till she left me to become a cougar."

"Ever wonder where she is now?"

"Wherever she is, I hope the Japanese caught her and made her into a nice soap bar."

Jack and Charlie howled with laughter, and Jeremy let out a good laugh himself. It was strange for other workers to talk about their lives and family, or the thought of them even being human beings outside of work. The question of whether or not these people's friends and family even knew about the crimes these men do on a weekly basis.

"But Erika," Charlie continued, "Erika's a real sweetie. We've never met her, but all the stories Payton tells to any poor soul who makes the mistake of listening give us a pretty good picture."

Jack put a hand to his chin and his expression lowered. "Though…" he wondered, "I wonder when she'll discover the truth. Payton can't keep lying to her forever, even if he thinks it the right thing to do."

"Why'd he ever take this job in the first place?" Jeremy asked, now leaning against the wall and continuing to smoke.

Jack scratched his scraggly hair with thought. "I… think he was tricked into the gang role like me and you. He said he originally was looking for work because Erika has allergies or somethin'."

"Asthma," Charlie corrected, "'parently she's got it bad. Said they were also thinking about a kid, so they obviously need lots of money."

"He really thought having a kid while in the business would be a good idea?" Jeremy asked, a puff of smoke passing by his lips.

"I think he thought he could keep lying forever and have a double life," Jack replied, "He seems too devoted to the idea of the happy middle class family lifw. One day that lie's gonna crumble." He shook his head sadly for the pitiful man.

The room was quiet for a few moments. Jeremy stopped leaning against the wall and adjusted his coat. "See you guys later," He said, nodding the head at the two men, "Uh, hope you heal well, Toby."

Toby only groaned in response. Jack and Charlie nodded back to him and began talking again as Jeremy left the room, Jack of course being audible over Charlie. Jeremy had a strange feeling he'd be seeing those guys again for another beating soon.

The only thing that got Jeremy up and at eagerly at noon on a Monday was the promise of a paycheck. He needed to stock up on more groceries, so Fransisco agreed to pay him for the week (and the beating) before he got into work. The club was definitely different with sunlight filtering through the few windows and all the chair on the tables in the main area, as if it was an average fancy restaurant.

Jeremy pushed through the door that had left ajar and he was practically beaming when thinking about that sweet check in his hands. However, before he got to Fransisco's office, he noticed Fritz talking to Jack and Cheyenne in the hallway. Jack and Fritz both seemed very concerned, though Cheyenne's concern was minimal at best (though her expression wasn't mean or salty, but more grim). They all looked at Jeremy as he walked into the scene, instantly stopping their conversation.

A thick awkward aura flooded the room. Jeremy looked around nervously, unsure of what he did wrong. "Uh… was I not supposed to hear something?" He asked, still puzzled.

"Payton, he…" Fritz spoke up, but stopped so she could cover her mouth while remorsefully looking at the floor. Her brown eyes seemed to almost be on the verge of tears. "It's his wife." Whatever she meant to say, she was obviously having trouble actually saying it.

"His wife is dead," Cheyenne interjected bluntly with a sincere and soft expression.