Chapter 4: A State of Mime

The music of her last set had ended, leaving Buttercup feeling much as she always did at the end of a performance.

She felt mildly drained, definitely exhilarated and at least for a while perhaps, she felt at peace, dancing always seemed to have that effect upon her.

And so such performances as this were a means to multiple ends.

Having a steady cash flow after all was something which was always nice to be sure.

Additionally, if 'work'n it' on stage could exercise even temporarily some personal demons? So much the better.

Thoughts of this nature, paraded past as always while BC stood poised for a few moments under the lights.

"Let 'em see what they can never have."

Such thoughts also provided an amount of pleasure, even if they also reminded her of the distance she had to keep from everyone about her.

Buttercup smiled then for her audience, even if it was purely a mechanical function, she'd gotten rather good at hiding her actual feelings over the years.

The dazzling smile provided an effective mask for many things.

For example, she was in actuality now mildly annoyed at herself for allowing such stray notions to almost kill her 'buzz'.

Tossing her head prettily and blowing perfunctory kisses to the crowd, Buttercup retrieved her translucent wrap from where it had settled with a sweep of her arm.

She then made her way to the steps and descended.

At the bottom of the short run BC paused, removing a waiting towel lying folded in a small alcove just to the side.

She was blotting her face and breasts when she noticed Vic Mourner, the club's owner looking at her, probably just waiting for his presence to be noticed.

"Flawless as always babe." He said.

"Thanks Vic." She replied, hardly glancing up as she moved aside, making way for the next girl.

"Knock 'em dead Sharon!" Buttercup called to the busty blond currently ascending to the stage, as the girl paused at about half way up the small run of steps.

"Should be easy, now you got them warmed up!" The dancer replied shooting BC a smile.

"Thanks X!"

And she was gone, just as Buttercup noticed that Vic was still 'hanging' around.

"Did you need something?" She asked him after a moment.

"Well a few things in fact," Vic began while motioning her closer.

"First off, Mr. Caldwell asked about you again."

She shot him a dirty look.

"Vic." BC began tiredly.

"Listen babe," Vic Mourner pressed ahead while waving his cigarette about emphatically.

"The man is serious! He really wants 'you' for a private party and the fart says he'll go five grand, if you strip all the way!"

Buttercup didn't answer, other than sadly shaking her head. She cast a glance at the ceiling wondering when Vic was going to learn to take 'NO' for her final answer!

"That's up front 'sweets'!" Vic continued adamantly.

"No touchy or 'feelie'."

Victor Mourner twiddled his cigarette while studying the half naked young woman.

Even after ten years of running various clubs, he figured that a man would have to be made of something mighty dense to not appreciate such a wild little beauty as the one standing before him.

He had to admit it was one the major perks to this job.

Trouble was, he was already fairly certain of this conversation's outcome already.

"Course, he also said, if you would consider ... More..." Vic began.

Buttercup sighed, feeling she'd heard about enough.

"Forget it Vic." She said, throwing the towel at him.

"No way."

Catching, the towel as it bounced off his head, Vic sniffed it and shrugged.

"Hey," He mused aloud.

"Thought, you might want the dough."

He supposed that some small portion of him still felt some mild pang at having asked.

Vic wouldn't have exactly called it having a conscience.

The way he had always rationalized it was simple. 'Sex sold' and it didn't take a genius to figure out that if he wasn't going to cash in then somebody else would.

Buttercup watched the man playing with the towel, her mouth drawn up into a disgusted pucker. Victor Mourner wasn't a paragon of virtue by any stretch of her imagination, but BC had worked for a hell of a lot worse types than him.

"I appreciate the thought Vic." She told him tightly.

"But I make enough."

"Yah make house average and stage tips kiddo." Vic shook his head.

"Chicken feed! Compared to what you could be making..."

He squinted at her in that odd fashion that he sometimes did, then favored her with a crooked smile.

"Trust me." He added.

In response Buttercup snorted. What a laugh!

She was more than aware of what he was talking about. Like most strip clubs, the Neon Rouge offered VIP rooms where a dancer could get up close and personal with the clientele.

And yes girls that did that sort of thing commanded a much higher percentage.

It was all that Buttercup could do however to not burst out laughing at the thought of her doing that!

Some joker would put his grubby hands on her in just the wrong way and ... BOOM!

"Ok!" Vic replied sharply then paused, considering as Buttercup tied the wrap around her waist and picked up her half shirt.

"The other thing is..." Vic said, finding his voice.

"I really need a little favor."

BC automatically stiffened.

"What sort of favor?" She asked, frowning while her eyes narrowed.

Vic Mourner smiled. Presently no direct lighting fell on Buttercup so most of her smooth curves were lit indirectly by the soft reflected glow of her own eyes.

He shook his head in amazement at the sight.

"Gotta love those eyes!"

It was in fact those incredible eyes that had cinched the notion of him hiring her.

Drawing herself up, BC crossed her slender arms over her breasts.

"Just spill it Vic." She said evenly.

Victor grimaced mildly, of course he was stalling! Knowing all too well the storm that was coming from what he was about to ask.

"The man, over there at table fifteen?" He told her while glancing nervously over his shoulder the indicated direction as he leaned closer to her.

"Tonight's first time he caught your act."

Vic paused watching as she frowned while casting her own look at the table in question while he allowed himself a full decent breath before continuing.

"He's just asked me to introduce you."

The mild frown Buttercup had been sporting became a grimace which transformed rapidly into a snarl.

"Uh huh..." She muttered, before fixing him with a hostile glare.

"I'm not one of your whores!" She suddenly shouted.

"Keep your voice down!" Vic Mourner yelped, throwing both hands into the air.

The fingers of both his hands settling in claw-like fashion descending to grip either side of his skull.

"Man! I really don't need this!"

"Did I ask you to bone the guy?" He continued aloud angrily as BC just stood there eyeing him indignantly a moment, before turning away.

Victor was treading on dangerous ground he knew that only too well.

He also knew, in painful detail however the possible consequences of pissing off the mob bosses number one runner.

So it was with visions of recently pulverized wine glasses dancing in his head that Vic decided to chance the lesser of his two possible unpleasant outcomes.

At least with the girl it was unlikely that he would see it coming!

Vic gently grabbed hold of her arm, turning her to face him.

"Listen, little miss hard ass." He began with a tone that was gentle but insistent.

"I tried to warn him off but, he's stubborn!"

Buttercup continued looking away from him adamantly, tossing her gaze to the side then towards the ceiling.

Anywhere but into his eyes as the club owner drew even closer, leaning to whisper softly to her ear.

"Come on babe, just go over there." He wheedled.

"Be nice to the guy and let him down gently, that's all I'm asking."

When she didn't immediately respond Vic continued pleadingly.

"Look, this asshole's got a lot of pull around the neighborhood.

I could really use your help on this one!"

BC visibly chewed her lip, still avoiding his gaze and so Vic decided there and then it was time to play his trump card.

"How often do I ask babe?" He queried softly, then added emphatically.

"For anything?"

Buttercup sighed while regarding the air angrily for an additional moment before finally meeting his eyes.

"Never Vic." She confessed sullenly as Vic Mourner released the breath he had been holding.

It was impossible given the circumstances for him to not show some sign of visible relief.

"Come on, It won't be so bad kid." He told her paternally with a gentle squeeze of her arms.

"Look, just go over there, sit with him and smile.

You laugh at his jokes, tell the prick what a nice suit he has on.

Then say, 'Thanks but I'm a lesbian!"

Buttercup couldn't help but smile.

"Vic, you are a nut case." She said wryly, shaking her head.

"I damn well have to be." He told her truthfully while wiping his tension soaked forehead with the towel he still held.

"I hired a rock 'em sock 'em little bitch like you!"

BC found she had no reason to argue with that and so it was with a smile that Buttercup finally pulled on the cobalt blue half shirt she had been holding.

It hardly counted as 'covering up' as the top barely covered anything.

The bottoms of both her breasts were exposed up to about two inches below her nipples.

Still, it was effectively the uniform of most girls working the floor and was a way to both show her off as well as display the clubs logo, which was emblazoned over top of her breasts in neon pink.

Thus 'attired' BC took a moment to compose.

It was true that she did owe Victor Mourner something she supposed.

He had after all hired her on when none of the other local clubs would.

Rumors have a bad habit of traveling fast especially within specific social circles.

Being until quite recently underage with questionable ID had been bad enough in her case.

Hiring someone, who rumor had it, had 'flung' a customer through a front window however was a risk no one else had been willing to take.

So it was with a smile that was for the most part genuine that she playfully fake punched Victor Mourner's jaw.

"Let's get this over with." BC sighed then turned to begin walking across the crowded room with Vic in tow.

"Ok, relax! Remember, your Madam X, right?" She thought while attempting to 'psyche' herself up.

Having decided to play along with Vic's favor Buttercup figured she ought to put the best face on the situation that she could.

And so she deliberately lengthened her stride while forcing herself to relax, allowing her hips to dip slightly more with each step.

"Ok, that's it! Strut, show it off! Same as on stage."

With her course clearly chosen BC hadn't gotten too many steps towards her destination before she found herself already speculating.

She only hoped that at least he wouldn't be one of those nasty older men that rolled in to a club with a wad of small bills. 'Panty stuffers' was the term most of the girls used.

Hey, while it was true that if it was green and foldable it was good, no girl that Buttercup was aware of really enjoyed putting it all out there just to wind up looking like a hula dancer with a grass skirt of one dollar bills!

Perhaps she was being a 'little harsh' but the prospect of being cornered into having to 'smooze' with some loser for Vic however wasn't really her idea of a good time, ok?

Just the same, she couldn't help but break into a gentle smile at the thought.

After all, she'd seen some real pieces of work wander in the front door of clubs over the years.

If her memory served, the local mob that was running 'the hood' in which the Neon Rouge operated was basically 'Italian' so she thought it likely that...

It was at that point that BC saw him.

"Hey! Well, I got the Latino part right."

She was assuming that the man that was actually 'seated' at table fifteen would be the proverbial 'him'. And the gentleman sitting there was indeed olive complected.

He had high cheek bones, set on an elongated face with hair, so jet-black it had blue highlights under the lights of the club.

He was wearing a nice suit and a pair of dark aviator style sunglasses.

Buttercup however counted the glasses as 'Strike one'.

BC hoped she wasn't alone in her general opinion of people who wore those 'damn things' at night, the notion of it had always struck her as just plain 'goofy' and besides...

"Those are too damn wide for his face!" Buttercup mentally snorted.

Her progress had brought her where she was about six feet from the table as she was considering the gentleman's taste or lack there of in eye apparel when the man in question reached up with his right index finger and pulled his shades down his nose.

Staring at Buttercup were twin spheres of deep set polished agate.

Rich chocolate pools against clear white, reflecting candle light in a way that they seemed to smolder like bonfires.

"Wow." Came the thought to BC instantly, already she was wondering if perhaps she'd been too hasty?

"You know?" BC reconsidered.

"This guy is really hot!"

Well, it was after all considered to be a woman's purogative to change her mind? And the sight of those eyes was definitely changing hers!

Her list of amendments in the gentleman's favor included noticing that his hands were slender with long fingers ... No ring!

Cords and veins stood pronounced on the back of each which clearly indicated strength, these were hands that were in no way girlish.

"Like a doctor." She breathed to herself.

Ok, so sue her if she liked men with strong hands!

As her distance to him shortened even further, BC now noted a long thin scar running from just below his right ear almost to his chin.

"Hmm." She purred, initially she was mildly disappointed at such a blemish.

"Well, it just makes him look rugged." BC conceded cheerfully.

It was at this point, almost having made it to the table that she saw him start to smile.

"Oh please!" Buttercup silently begged.

"Don't let him have gold teeth!"

She had lost count of how many men had 'lost points' in her book by flashing a 'grill' as was the current term, littered with a mouth full of golden caps!

The only way the potential parting of a pair of lips could be made more hideous in her opinion was if the guy was one of those idiots stupid enough to have diamond sets!

It was likely BC supposed that it was her own dental misadventures which had firmly tainted her viewpoint at an early age.

But still, the notion of drilling holes into what were other wise healthy teeth just to affix some doodad? Struck her as particularly moronic!

Such however was not the case, for when he smiled, a gleaming set of well kept pearls flashed into view as BC realized the man was looking straight into her eyes!

Sure there had been the almost obligatory 'casual sweep' when his eyes passed over her from 'toe to face', but there seemed to be none of the usual 'stealing glances' back down at her 'goods' that she had grown so used to when guys were checking her out.

She actually felt butterflies in her stomach!

"What a hunk!" BC found herself thinking, having thoroughly revised her opinion in so short a time.

It was precisely that moment however she caught sight of the red haired man monolith standing behind him where he sat.

Well, to be completely accurate, it was right then that Buttercup actually 'looked' at him as her eyes had previously been engaged in other assessments.

"Big bastard." She thought slowly, as she now trained her attention upon the giant with green eyes set into a heavy lidded face.

Not that seeing 'hired muscle' was anything new.

Barney Fawkes, the club bouncer for example wasn't exactly the smallest of guys.

Compared to the behemoth standing behind the man at table fifteen however, Barney looked like the preverbal 'shrinking violet'.

Not that BC was intimidated in the slightest by the size of anyone of even on the high end of what were considered human proportions. 'oh please'.

Yet there was something ... that after that initial glance was compelling her eyes to linger.

"What the hell am I thinking?" Buttercup chided herself.

She reasoned that she should be concentrating on the 'hunk' at the table and not some big ol' red haired boy ... That was somehow disturbingly familiar.

BC had started to feel what she might term as 'an itch' inside of her mind, a curious feeling that seemed to be growing more convoluted with each attempt to dismiss it.

"Now why the hell would I think of that 'monster' as a boy?" Buttercup wondered.

She was three steps from the table when suddenly ... something just clicked.

The 'something' had been sparked somehow from the words 'monster' and 'big red haired boy' and it was from there that a name suddenly leaped solidly into her mind.

"William W. Williams!" The thought exploded.

Buttercup was so startled in fact that she came to a halt while a look of outright surprise erupted on her face.

Looking again, to confirm her thinking she saw that she was right!

"Big Billy!" Buttercup silently gasped, there could be no mistake!

"He's sure slimmed down since the last time I seen him!" The next thoughts came.

"And gotten even taller!"

That 'itch' that had been worrying the back of her perceptions suddenly became a storm of icy shards as Buttercup felt a deep cold suddenly beginning to creep up her spine.

"But ... If that's Big Billy" She dreadfully deduced.

"Then the guy at the table might be..."

It was during only the space of a few heartbeats, all told.

A fluttering of instances while Buttercup considered the most dire of all possible outcomes before Victor Mourner, having come to a halt adjacent to her, obliviously concentrated on his introductions.

"Madam X ... This here is Mr. Ace Copular!"

"ACE COPULAR!"

The named literally exploded in her mind, her worst suspicions horribly confirmed!

Suddenly in her mind Buttercup was back, seeing him when he was leader of the Gangrene Gang.

Her thought particularly turning to one night in a junkyard when his gang had tried to kill both her sisters.

They had almost succeeded too!

Mostly because of a stupid, schoolgirl crush that she'd had on Ace at that time.

Her previous assessment of him right in the bucket, Buttercup found herself trembling in cold fury.

How in the name of god could she not have recognized this clown!

"That's ok Vic." She answered the club owner huskily.

"We've already met."

"The nerve of this son of a bitch! " Buttercup silently raged.

It was taking every ounce of control that she possessed just to keep from exploding!

"Why I ought to..."

She stopped herself, realizing suddenly that he was still smiling ... At her!

It wasn't any sort of sneer or other dark 'knowing' expression she would have expected given their history. And that might somehow mean...

"He ... He doesn't recognize me!"

The sudden realization made her mind do an absolute roll.

While the sheer amazement of this revelation managed to overcome some of the initial burst of anger, it didn't change the fact that right now all BC wanted to do was belt him right through a wall!

Much as she hated to admit it however, especially at a time like this!

Buttercup had learned some things over the course of time, which included coarse language that contained some rather dirty words in her opinion ... words like restraint.

"It's too close in here." She thought acidly, while her eyes flickered about angrily.

"Too many bystanders will get hurt if I stomp this clown!"

It was the right decision, and she knew it.

And the reason that Buttercup knew it was because it was the one that made the little blossom she always kept in her head, smile and nod approvingly.

"Restraint! That's the key!" The shade of her sister seemed to say.

Keeping her sisters in her head as a sort of conscience had occasionally struck BC as 'fruity'. She did often wonder how others managed to keep their cool in 'situations' like this.

But evoking the memory Of Bubbles and Blossom in this fashion always managed to bring her firmly back to earth.

"Thanks sis, always there when I need you."

BC decided right there, he just wasn't worth having to hit the road again.

"Ok, I don't get to kill him." She thought bitterly.

"But I'm not just going to stand here either."

She leaned forward placing her two small fists on the table.

As she did so, 'did a look of recognition begin to slowly light up his face?

Over where he stood, still oblivious to any personal revelations, Vic Mourner seemed relieved.

"Ah! Old friends huh?" He grunted, of course completely unaware.

Hearing the word 'friends' mentioned casually in this context however made Buttercup feel like she was going to explode.

"Sure are!" She said sweetly while leaning further forward, just able to contain her anger Buttercup stared him strait in the eyes and added nastily.

"Now, Go fuck yourself Ace!!"

She then straightened and turned on heel to stroll elegantly away.

Oddly enough having said it right to his face seemed to have helped as indeed did her parting thoughts.

"That, that, that, BASTARD!"

2

BC righteously stomped back across that main room, vaguely aware that Victor Mourner was in hot pursuit.

The heavy old door to the back of the house barely had time to swing open as BC marched through.

Vic arrived a few moments later just in time for the closing door to smack right into his chest.

The club owner was not a small man, so the perplexed stares that several of the patrons seated around gave while watching him claw ineffectively at a door that a petit half dressed brunette had flung aside moments before were certainly understandable.

Once finally past the obstacle however, panting heavily Vic made his way straight the dressing room.

By the time he got there Buttercup already had donned a pair of sweat pants from her locker.

Victor leaned on one side of the door frame, gulping several breaths at the uncustomary exertions before he could finally speak.

"What the hell was that?!" Were the first words he managed to stammer.

"Do you have any idea who it was you just casually told to screw himself?" He continued, after a few unavoidable pants.

"Probably, a lot more than you Vic!" Buttercup replied angrily, not even bothering looking his direction as she pulled on a black T-shirt.

"Damn it all lady!" Vic wheezed, now leaning against the wall, having managed a few steps.

"Copular is Tony Glatora's Runner! He collects protection money for the entire damn neighborhood."

Having expended the air needed for this proclamation, if it was possible Vic seemed to 'slump' even further.

"And you just pissed right in his face!"

"Yup." Buttercup said acidly as she was about the business of pulling up her socks.

"And I could've done quite a bit more!"

At that moment Mourner seemed to tap into some primal reserve.

Perhaps he had simply managed 'a second wind' if one were inclined to indulge in some shoddy mathematics considering the amount of huffing and puffing his exertions to this point had produced.

It may have been however that he had gotten some needed rest while watching his life parade before his eyes. In any case the club owner lumbered to his feet.

"This is how you pay me back?" He painfully gasped.

That seemed to penetrate her shell, but even so, not by much.

"What do you want Vic?" Buttercup snapped, rising angrily to cross to her locker, pulling out a long black leather trench coat.

"You have no idea what he put me through!"

"Save it doll!" Victor spouted angrily. At this point it was clear that his anger was definitely getting the best of him.

"This ain't about you!"

"Oh really?" BC shot Vic an icy look.

"And just who is it about?"

"It's about paying your dues babe!" Vic shook his head.

"Listen, I took a big chance taken you on here!"

Buttercup stopped, in the act of pulling on her coat fixing Vic with a glare.

"Just shut up for a change!" He cut her off as she was about to speak.

"I'm gonna have my say for once!"

Eyeing him angrily for a moment, Buttercup then plumped down on the bench bisecting the locker bay. With a shrug she then crossed her arms.

"Well," She hissed.

"Have it then."

Victor swallowed, attempting to calm down. The truth was he really was surprised that he had managed to penetrate her thick hide.

"I'm gonna go back out there." He began, as evenly as he was able at the moment.

"And if Copular don't slit my throat, tell him that you're sorry."

BC rolled her eyes, responding to his attempt by putting feet into a pair of black motocross boots, flipping the catches closed before standing up.

"Then, your pretty rump is going out there!" Vic continued, looking her dead in the eyes.

"And then you're gonna apologize!"

He held her gaze for several moments, glaring at her with all the angered indignation he could muster. It seemed to be having some effect, because BC's hard expression slowly softened.

Choosing to look upon that as a sign, Vic turned, not waiting or really wanting a further response from her and started out of the dressing room.

In the doorway he stopped, turned and tried to sound authoritative.

"I think you owe it to me sweets."

Buttercup stood there for a while regarding the man.

While it was true that she did feel that she owned him, just how much was she expected to take?

On the other hand, she freely acknowledged that Vic had no way of knowing the who, what or even the why of any of what was going on. But it wasn't like she could ever actually tell him? Was it?

So, it was with a sigh then that she started his direction.

"Ok Vic," BC said quietly pouting.

"I'll apologize."

Victor Mourner's moment of triumph lasted the amount of time it took BC to almost cross to the doorway of the dressing area.

He had glanced the direction of the door to the front of the house when she suddenly changed direction and Headed straight to the street exit mashing down on the handle as she arrived.

"When hell freezes over!" She said flatly and walked out.

Vic had no choice but to stand helplessly and watch as the door swung closed with BC on the other side. But not before Buttercup managed a smile and wave 'bye-bye' as the door slammed itself shut.

As the echo of the slamming door reverberated through the back of the old theater, Victor Mourner began to consider that opening a string of bingo parlors had been a much better idea.

3

As the street door slammed behind her, Buttercup vaulted the back stairs railing, dropping ten feet to asphalt with a thud.

"Ace Copular you son of a bitch!" She swore silently, having absorbed the impact effortlessly.

"Of all the rotten luck, running into him here!"

Briefly BC considered stomping around to the front of the Neon Rouge and doing some major damage. But just as before, she came to the same conclusions.

"No, he's just not worth it." She finally sighed aloud.

Violent fantasies aside, beating the living shit out of the guy wouldn't solve anything and she knew it.

A far better use of her time then would be to just cut her losses.

"Better just head home." She thought as she turned and started down the alleyway.

But even as she started walking, it occurred to BC just how meaningless the word actually was.

"I haven't had a home in four years."

Dwelling on the past was counterproductive, Buttercup knew that as well.

Occasionally however, especially considering what had just happened, a small bout of self pity wasn't beyond reason?

She considered that perhaps it was one of the few luxuries she could sometimes afford.

BC was so absorbed in her musings in fact that as she swung round the end of the alley she almost collided with an oncoming skateboarder.

Under normal circumstances, by the time anyone would have heard the startled exclamation of 'OH SHIT!' a crash would have been unavoidable.