With a sigh, the bartender kicked open the back room, a bloody rack of ribs slung over a shoulder on a filthy towel. “Ribs, sandwich, don’t be so picky, dammit.”

A blaze of dark metal dropped out of the rafters. She stared up, startled.

The tines of a metal rake clawed at her face. Vivian plunged down on her, throwing his full weight into the rake. She fell backward, smashing her head on the counter on the way down. Blood sprayed from the back of her head.

“Angie? Something happen?” one of the bar bros asked.

Level +5!

Congratulations! You’ve defeated the Bar Butcher! Secret Boss defeated!

Skill unlocked: No More Human Meat

Ignoring everything, Vivian scrambled at her waist. Snatching up the keys, he whirled to the door between the bar and the kitchen and jammed a key inside. Failure. Hands shaking, keys jangling, he tried the next. No good.

“Angie, seriously. Are you okay?”

“Shit, shit, fuck,” Vivian muttered, fumbling to the next key. It shook into the lock, and turned. His eyes widened. Vivian pumped his fist and yanked the key out, hooking the oversized key ring onto his belt. Alright! That should hold for at least thirty seconds.

He whirled around and sprinted into the back room. Body, body, body…

Too many bodies hung from hooks. All kinds of bodies. Small, large, pale and dark, hairy and skinless, all dismembered, all in pieces. Vivian bit his lip, searching amongst them for himself, then shook his head. I don’t need to find my body. The clothes and stuff, where did she put…

In the corner. A black lump. He ran to it and yanked it open. Bloody black clothes… and his trusty clippers.

Vivian held them up triumphantly, spurred on by adrenaline. Excitedly, he whispered, “Clippers get!”

Something slammed into the kitchen door. “Angie, why is the door locked? Angie!”

No time to waste. Vivian jumped up and ran back into the kitchen. He jumped up, grabbed the rafter, and clambered up onto it, the motion familiar by now. Something jingled, and he looked down at his waist. The keys? Shit. Moving on instinct, he jabbed them into his pocket.

Seconds after he put the keys away, the door to the kitchen crashed open with the sound of shattering wood. One of the bar bros stepped inside. His eyes landed on the bartender, then the open backroom, and he scowled. “Anders! There’s a dangerous cat on the loose.”

Damn, you really don’t give up on that metaphor, do you? Vivian thought, shaking his head. He held still, holding his breath. If I move now, they’ll hear me. Hold still… Hold steady…

The rafter jolted under him. Vivian jumped. He looked over his shoulder at the far end of the bar, out into the open room.

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Anders, the other bar bro, grabbed onto the rafter and pulled himself up, pull-up style. A hungry grin spread across his face. “Here, kitty, kitty.”

“Motherfuck—” Vivian whirled.

Below him, the other bar bro craned his neck, a smile appearing on his face as well. He reached for a mug. “C’mon down, kitty cat. We’ll treat you nice.”

“More like eat me nice,” Vivian snarked. Can’t go forward. Can’t go down. I could try the drop trick again, but with Anders out there aggro’d too, the best case becomes that I take this guy down, then get caught flatfooted by that linebacker over there. Not a great option.

Vivian turned up, scanning the ceiling. Halfway between him and Anders, one of the ceiling boards laid askew, curled up slightly at the end where rain had seeped in. Vivian’s eyes widened.

Can’t go under ‘em, can’t go around ‘em, gotta go over ‘em! Rising to a half-stand, curved over on the waist, he sprinted across the rafter toward the curled board.

“Yes, that’s right. Come to Anders!” the man cooed, gesturing Vivian toward him.

“Inventory!” Vivian called out.

[Inventory]

Rake

Clippers

Common Black Clothes

Mage’s Robes (F) [Bloodied]

Chestplate [Bloodied]

One-Handed Bandit Sword

“Chestplate!” he called.

A metal chestplate dropped into his hands. Gripping the strap, Vivian charged into Anders.

The second he gripped the strap, his arm instantly grew heavier. Prepared for it, Vivian managed to brace himself, but he still lurched forward, half-falling into Anders. Shit. Come on, move! Get away!

Meaty hands gripped the edges of the chestplate. “A gift?” Anders asked, still smiling.

“You betcha,” Vivian replied. Jumping, he released the chestplate and kicked it with both feet. The force of his kick threw him backwards, and his shoulders crashed into the rafter. He skidded back and sideways, rake’s shaft digging painfully into his spine. Weight no longer centered on the rafter, he began to roll over the rafter’s edge. The abyss of the bar opened up beneath him. Vivian caught his breath, grappling wildly with his other hand. Shit shit shit—

As he rolled off the rafter, his back hand caught the wood. His leg hooked the rafter a second later. Splinters dug deep into his palm and the underside of his knee, but he held on for dear life. For a moment, he stared down at the suddenly-sharp-looking chairposts and hard tabletops below. Vivian licked his lips. If I’d fallen, something would have broken, and then—

Now isn’t the time. Move!

Throwing his weight onto the rafter, Vivian wiggled onto his back, then sat up and clambered to safety on all fours. As he did, he glanced at Anders.

Anders had fallen sideways, caught off-guard by the kick. Awkwardly, he held onto the next rafter over, his body splayed over the open air, suspended over the tables below. He released the rafter and reached after Vivian, only for his remaining hand to slip. His eyes widened, and he caught the far rafter again rather than risk a fall.

Good. He’s in worse shape. Vivian turned and ran, positioning himself under the curled board. From this angle, sunlight beamed down, promising the freedom of day. Bracing his arms over his head, he jumped at the curled ceiling board. He struck it, and the board creaked backward, soft with rot. Not giving it a chance to fall back into place, Vivian threw himself up through the gap and onto the roof. His hands scrabbled at the roof tiles, searching for a grip, and his feet kicked at the air. The board scratched at his back, no less splintered than the rafters, but he put up with the pain. Better to be scratched up than eaten!

His fingers latched onto a ledge in the tiles. He yanked himself up, and his foot found a grip on the roof’s underside. Just as he jumped through the hole, something caught behind him. Vivian whirled, startled, then grit his teeth in annoyance. The rake grabbed onto the roof’s underside, completely caught. Dammit, I can’t leave it out any longer. “Inventory: send rake!”

The rake vanished in a burst of green sparks, and Vivian wiggled up onto the roof.

“Get back here!” Anders roared, as Vivian wriggled through the board and up onto the roof.

“Hell no,” Vivian muttered, mostly to himself.

“Did he get away?” the other bar bro asked.

“Thanks to you, Allan,” Anders snapped.

“Now isn’t the time for blame. Get after him!”

Allan, Anders, and Angie? Seems like I’m dealing with a triple-A situation here. Triple-A cannibals, anyways!