Took A Wrong Turn

I swirled the last remnants of my drink around the glass as the spotlight illuminated the woman on the stage. A hush fell over the crowd, the room filled with palpable anticipation. Fitt and I exchanged a glance, an unspoken question passing between us. The rhythm of the music picked up, its haunting tune echoing in the cavernous room as the woman began her dance.

Our previous elation had swiftly evaporated, replaced by a growing unease. There was something oddly ritualistic about this performance, and the way the crowd’s eyes were fixated on us rather than the stage, was downright eerie. The wild cheer that had greeted us now seemed more like a war cry, the friendly faces of the townsfolk had morphed into predatory smiles.

"Something’s not right," Fitt muttered, and I couldn't have agreed more.

As if on cue, the music shifted, taking a darker, more menacing tone. A group of burly locals rose from their tables, their laughter echoing ominously around the room. There was a predatory glint in their eyes and they approached us, guns casually slung across their shoulders, a glimmer of steel from knives at their sides.

"You boys here for a delivery?" A man who seemed to be the leader drawled, stepping into our personal space. His too-wide smile didn’t reach his eyes.

And that's when the penny dropped. The odd job, the deserted town, the impromptu party – it had all been an elaborate ruse to lure us into this trap. The realization hit us like a punch to the gut, cold fear settling in our bones.

"We've got a bit of a tradition in this town," the man continued, the room falling silent to hang onto his every word. "Every feast needs a special dish. And tonight, you're it."

Laughter, cruel and cold, echoed around the room. The doors to the tavern slammed shut, the ominous music playing louder, enveloping us in a chilling soundscape. Our seemingly innocuous situation had transformed into a fight for survival in a matter of seconds.

I felt Fitt stiffen beside me, and I tightened my grip on my sidearm under the bar. The odds weren't in our favor, but that wasn’t going to stop us from putting up a fight.

Fitt and I rose from our seats, standing back to back as we pulled out our weapons, our gazes challenging the crowd. "Well, Moe, looks like it's showtime," Fitt said, his voice steady despite our precarious situation.

Guns raised, we faced our captors, their malicious grins now grotesque under the harsh lights. Outnumbered, outgunned, but not yet outwitted, we prepared to fight our way out of this nightmare.

The woman on stage, no longer a seductive dancer, but a sinister figurehead, descended towards us, a predatory smile on her face. The room held its breath, and I swallowed hard, the lingering taste of the lavish meal turning bitter in my mouth.

The last vestiges of my optimism evaporated. As we faced down the barrel of the most dangerous situation we'd ever been in, one thing was clear - the real show was just getting started. And we were the unwilling stars.