doing whatever crazy people did for fun but thankfully the guards kept the inmates in check for the most part and Randy rarely heard a peep from over there. No, this small courtyard – seeing as it doubled as a meeting place for family and friends as well as being the designated employee smoking area, was usually quite peaceful. Randy didn’t smoke – cigs or pot – and never had despite being bitten by several other highly addictive dragons over the years, but after being cooped up inside the steamy kitchen for hours at a time, he always enjoyed getting outside for a little fresh air and 20 minutes of peace and quiet. Not today though. Today, Randy made a bee-line for the in-patient recreation center where he knew security guard Gustoffson would be patrolling (or more likely sitting doing nothing) at this time of day. Gustoffson was a big Swede who had worked on the Security team here at Ashbury forever. He’d pretty much seen and heard it all over the years, and Randy knew him well enough to know he liked the sound of his own voice a lot. If anyone would spill the beans about Peeler in Badass–10, Gustoffson would be the guy.
Turned out, the big blonde-haired Swedish guard wasn’t in a talkative mood today after all, least not when it came to discussing Peeler. Randy tried to bribe him with offers of free slices of pies, hell even offered the entire pie, but Gustoffson wasn’t interested.
“Look Randy,” the guard finally said, American as they came, not a hint of a Scandinavian accent left in his voice. “Go talk to someone else. I hate that crazy fucker locked in the basement. Freak nearly bit my finger off last year. Look at this…” Gustoffson held up his left hand and his cucumber-sized index finger was bent at an awkward angle and covered in scars. It looked like someone had worked on it with an industrial cheese grader. Either that or he’d been attacked by a shark. The scars hidden on Randy’s own body began to itch again.
“Jesus!” Randy said. “I thought he liked to hurt himself. Why’d he bite you?”
Gustoffson sighed, clearly not wanting to discuss this any further. “’Cause I was stupid enough to try an’ stop him. We walked into that monster’s room and he was chewing a hunk out of his own arm, ripping a long thin strip of skin from his right elbow down to his wrist. I tried to pry open his mouth and… shit; I’m done talking about this. Go bug someone else. Far as I’m concerned they ought to just take that sick skinless fuck outside and shoot him in the head. Do the world a favor.”
Gustoffson tried to walk away, but he’d really peaked Randy’s attention now. “Wait! Just a sec. What do you mean, skinless? He can’t be completely–”
“No, not completely, but damn near. Why do you think they call him Peeler? Fucking loony wants to peel all the skin off his body. And I do mean, ALL of it. He’s been working at it for years. Crazy fuck!”
“Why? That doesn’t make any sense. That would be incredibly painful, and what about infections? Wouldn’t he–”
“Don’t know… don’t care. You want any more than that, go talk to his old buddy Lucius Barber. I’d send you downstairs to Peeler himself but there’s no way. Only doctors and security are allowed down there past the checkpoint. You shouldn’t really be wandering around here either, but it’s no big deal. Most of these clowns are harmless. Lucius will probably be happy to tell you all the gruesome details.”
“Lucius Barber? He another guard?”
“Nope. Patient. Peeler and him were both magicians, I think. They used to hang out together here, least until Peeler got locked up. That’s him right there. Fat guy with grey hair over by the window.”
Randy turned to look, spotted the chubby man gazing outside, and when he turned back to thank Gustoffson, the big Swede was already walking away, a step or two faster than his usual sluggish pace. Randy knew he should be walking away too, back to the
Turned out, the big blonde-haired Swedish guard wasn’t in a talkative mood today after all, least not when it came to discussing Peeler. Randy tried to bribe him with offers of free slices of pies, hell even offered the entire pie, but Gustoffson wasn’t interested.
“Look Randy,” the guard finally said, American as they came, not a hint of a Scandinavian accent left in his voice. “Go talk to someone else. I hate that crazy fucker locked in the basement. Freak nearly bit my finger off last year. Look at this…” Gustoffson held up his left hand and his cucumber-sized index finger was bent at an awkward angle and covered in scars. It looked like someone had worked on it with an industrial cheese grader. Either that or he’d been attacked by a shark. The scars hidden on Randy’s own body began to itch again.
“Jesus!” Randy said. “I thought he liked to hurt himself. Why’d he bite you?”
Gustoffson sighed, clearly not wanting to discuss this any further. “’Cause I was stupid enough to try an’ stop him. We walked into that monster’s room and he was chewing a hunk out of his own arm, ripping a long thin strip of skin from his right elbow down to his wrist. I tried to pry open his mouth and… shit; I’m done talking about this. Go bug someone else. Far as I’m concerned they ought to just take that sick skinless fuck outside and shoot him in the head. Do the world a favor.”
Gustoffson tried to walk away, but he’d really peaked Randy’s attention now. “Wait! Just a sec. What do you mean, skinless? He can’t be completely–”
“No, not completely, but damn near. Why do you think they call him Peeler? Fucking loony wants to peel all the skin off his body. And I do mean, ALL of it. He’s been working at it for years. Crazy fuck!”
“Why? That doesn’t make any sense. That would be incredibly painful, and what about infections? Wouldn’t he–”
“Don’t know… don’t care. You want any more than that, go talk to his old buddy Lucius Barber. I’d send you downstairs to Peeler himself but there’s no way. Only doctors and security are allowed down there past the checkpoint. You shouldn’t really be wandering around here either, but it’s no big deal. Most of these clowns are harmless. Lucius will probably be happy to tell you all the gruesome details.”
“Lucius Barber? He another guard?”
“Nope. Patient. Peeler and him were both magicians, I think. They used to hang out together here, least until Peeler got locked up. That’s him right there. Fat guy with grey hair over by the window.”
Randy turned to look, spotted the chubby man gazing outside, and when he turned back to thank Gustoffson, the big Swede was already walking away, a step or two faster than his usual sluggish pace. Randy knew he should be walking away too, back to the
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