While most would rather have avoided the extra attention, there were some odd magical girls who thrived off of the Unveiling in a way.
Some were openly identified as agents of the country they lived in, real-life superheroes that stirred up nationalist or cultural fervor here and there. This had already backfired in the case of Turkey: “Madame Bodrum” had gone missing after a scant month of life in the spotlight, until her butchered corpse appeared in front of the city’s municipal office a week later. The jury was out as to whether it was run of the mill violent crime or something else, and no one was keen to pry too hard.
More commonly, in (somewhat) stable cities around the globe there were girls who had become something of a sensation. The United States and various places around the globe boasted several, such as Dallas or the everpresent Calgary. The former hosted rallies across her home state to entice the common folk and draw them together. The latter worked–-to all appearances–-as a functionary for the government and what was left of MagNet. Alternatively, in Korea there were a staggering number of 마법 같은 아이돌, literally “magical idols” cropping up in Seoul and Busan to replenish their collapsed entertainment industry.
And so on.
The smaller places of the world had their own celebrities, too. Raytown, Missouri had the “First and Only Magical Girl ,” painted in a gentle but unforgettable red on a sign for a gentlemen's club smack dab on the intersection of Noland Road and 350. A dingy place, there was less crime than elsewhere in Raytown but it was still seedy as all get out, covered with the wreckage of old businesses in dusty strip malls that most people passed by on their way to parts more civilized.
It was here that Patti Friedman spent her time, holed up with a stage and booth all to herself. Humble and yet illustrious, there was hardly enough room to breathe between the gaudy blue curtains, a handful of ornate cloth chairs, a miniscule bar propped in the corner. Her bartender Jack was also the only bouncer, not that she really needed one. Jack just made it feel more real.
There were no other girls here to contend with her in this space; who on Earth could compete with her? Nevermind that she owned the outlet herself and would never allow them to try.
This was her palace, a temple where her followers worshiped her body and soul. She spent hours offering herself up to them, and they threw love and money and themselves at her in return. For hours Patti would undulate, gyrate, rotate, she engaged in every peculiarity of motion afforded to her by the laws of physics, and some which were not. Hoots and hollers and catcalls were her language.
It was exquisitely base and sensuous: she loved the smell of cigar smoke in her nose and tickling her eyes, licentious hands that grasped for a wisp of her silver hair to kiss, dolorous faces wanting to forget their troubles.
Occasionally these rituals were interrupted, usually by a protest of some sort. She had closed up early a few times when a mob of the religious or the feminist or whatever else had come by, demanding she censor herself or be censored by the righteous. Whenever that happened she simply left out the backdoor to visit with someone, usually Perry, and let the crowd bore itself. They always got bored with their self-validation quickly enough.
Other times, she received far more interesting visits. Today, it was a younger girl dressed in an extravagant red dress, hair done up and dyed a violent pink. She commanded little presence and yet, somehow, Raytown felt that the show must stop for her. “Five minute break,” she called out to Jack, who hopped the bar counter to start shooing the riff raff out. Jeering disappointment rang out from the cluster, quickly silenced as they were shunted back out into a more puritan world.
The girl in red eyed her naked body up and down. Patti couldn’t tell if the expression was curious or hungry. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I felt like it,” the magical show girl sat down at the edge of the stage, resting her calves and thighs. Her bare legs dangled for a second until she stretched to get the kinks out, feet and toes flexing. “I don’t get a lot of magical girls visiting,” she grunted softly through perfect teeth.
“I can imagine why. Kind of a weird place.”
“Is it? I can think of weirder,” Raytown leaned back on her hands. “I don’t recognize you, so you’re probably one of the Kansas girls.”
“Yep. Overland Park.”
“Ohh,” Raytown nodded slowly. “So you’re the one everyone’s talking about. Offed Kaycee Kay recently, didn’t you?” She started swinging her legs back and forth in the air, making her body sway slightly.
“You don’t look too bothered by that.”
“I didn’t know her all that well,” Raytown said truthfully. “I never much cared for all that stuff about territory. Too serious.”
Overland Park bobbed her head up and down, all curt-like. “Nice to hear. I don’t like it when people get in my shit.”
“Not sure of anyone who does. That being said, what brings you here?”
“I dunno,” Overland Park shrugged. “Don’t hear much about you. Everyone else in Kansas City got their fingers in each other’s business, sounds like, but you just… chill here?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Well, what else am I supposed to do with my time?” Raytown lay back on the stage, relaxing more thoroughly. “When Kaycee needs help, I help like all the rest. Otherwise, my time is my own. I like it here. That’s enough, isn’t it?”
“Huh. Kinda thought Kaycee was the one making you do this.”
Raytown threw back her head, a full-throated laugh like bells filling the cozy space. “Kaycee wouldn’t step foot in here in a million years,” she said through crinkles around her eyes. “I call her a prude all the time. No idea if that’s true, I just enjoy seeing her get worked up about it.”
But Overland Park wasn’t smiling. There was nothing but coldness in her eyes, and something strange lurked just behind her face. “What was your wish?”
What a weird girl. Raytown kept her smile on, hoping maybe she could disarm her. “Well,” she hopped down, a pert little jiggle that shook her whole body, “there’s a reason I work here.” She took a chance and extended her right hand for Overland Park to take it. Confusion trickled slowly into her face–-a small victory. “When Kyubey came to me, there was really only one thing I wanted.” Overland Park took her hand, curiosity replacing coldness.
“I wished with all my heart to be a slut.” She pulled on her guest’s hand as if to draw the girl close but approached instead, betraying the soft skill of her locomotion. Pale arms drifted to shoulders draped in red, the fabric parted by gracile fingers which sought the dark flesh underneath. “I wished to be a crucible, in whom the desire of men and women may be turned into pleasure.” Her living heart pulsed in her chest, and the smooth skin which covered it thudded in concert nigh imperceptibly, a quivering that accentuated ever so slightly the excited gooseflesh of her perfect neck and breasts.
“I told him I wanted to be a whore,” she hissed into the girl’s ear. She draped herself on Overland Park, gentle but firm as she exalted in the wiles of her own physicality. No space existed between them now. “Let me be for taking, in body and soul.” They were united now, red and white with no terminus between.
There was visible excitement in the Kansas girl’s face now, a bright focus that barely worked to conceal some animal viciousness underneath. “Really? That’s what you said to him?”
“No,” Raytown smirked as she pulled limply away, hopping back to sit on the stage; Patti watched Overland Park watching the curves of her body as she did. “That’s just what I tell the lonely perverts who hire me for private shows.” Her visitor’s face fell a bit, but hey, that’s just showbiz, kid. “Might as well give them what they pay for, they love to hear that kind of thing.”
Her pink hair bobbed with a quirk of her head. “Well, what’d you really wish for then?”
“I wanted someone to love me.”
“Who?"
“Anyone.”
“... Yeah? Did it work?”
“I don’t know,” Raytown sighed, a mote of sadness in it. “Kyubey says it did, but I never noticed anything different.” She gestured loosely around her. “Maybe this is just what love is?” Overland Park had nothing to say to that. “It’s my own fault, really, I was too vague. He loves to hide in ambiguity.” Her smile had hidden away, so she found it again. “What about you, then?”
Overland Park sat down in one of the cloth chairs normally reserved for a more lustful audience. “I’m not sure you’ll want to hear it.”
“I’m in no state to judge,” she leaned back once more, unconcerned and totally exposed. The practiced lean of her body could have been openness or promiscuity, or both.
“I’m not sure I wanna explain.”
“Well,” Patti shrugged, “I’m here either way.”
The girl in red cocked her head again and stared at her. The vicious intensity back in full.
After a full minute of consideration, she began plainly: “I got beat a lot.”
Wisely, her host said nothing.
“Everyone was beating on me. My dad, my ma, my brother, my sisters. People in my family. People at school. All of them. Everyone. They were all bigger than me or stronger than me, and I just couldn’t stop ‘em.
“I got tired of it. When Kyubey got to me, I was angry. I was angry a lot, and that was the angriest I ever was, when he found me.
“So I wished they would all die.”
Raytown breathed, in and out, the swell of her bare body low and calm. “Did it come true?”
“I made it come true.”
Patti suppressed a shiver low in the base of her spine. “You still seem angry.”
Something in the air snapped, and Overland Park was… not normal, but more so. More like when she came in. “Yeah, well. I don’t need to take it anymore. Promised myself I wouldn’t let that happen anymore.”
“You get a lot of people trying to mess with you still?”
“Yeah. I don’t take no shit though,” she crossed her arms, the frills of her bright dress bouncing in the half light. “Your boss keeps trying, I’m gonna make her regret it.”
“Granted,” Raytown felt a little knot in her stomach tightening, “I haven’t been super involved in the group for a while, but I think Kaycee’s got a little too much on her plate already. As far as I recall, she’s never been too interested in expanding territory, or anything like that.”
“That’s what MGs do though. I been dealing with stupid hoes from all over trying to get in my fucking business.”
“Well, it’s not just us anymore,” Raytown lolled her head back. “I guess the military’s getting involved more often. Had a, ah, ‘recruiter’ come in last week threatening me with jail time for not signing up for the Magic Force. And just the other day, one of the girls over by Columbia got forced off her land by them.”
A couple spots of color were forming on Overland Park’s cheeks, red to match her dress. Was it hotter in here? “They’d be dead if they tried that with me.”
“Sounds like it." Something persuaded her to take a risk. "People are still talking about Wichita, y’know? What happened with that?”
Her guest was visibly embarrassed at the question. “That was… it got away from me. The angrier I am the stronger I get, but then I get too angry, like when I made my wish. Things got out of hand. I don’t even remember most of it, honestly.”
“Lenexa was pretty vague on the details, sure, but I-–”
“You were talkin’ with Lenexa?”
Oh, fuck. Mentioning that was probably not the best idea. The heat of Overland Park’s gaze felt like a laser on her face. “Not me, personally.” Deflecting would probably be a bad idea too. Better be honest. “After last year, she sometimes keeps in contact with Kaycee–-”
“I knew it, that fuckin’ cunt! SHIT!” She was up and out of the chair now, pacing like a raging horse in its stall, ready to stampede down the derby track. Raytown hoped her heart wasn’t beating too loud. “I knew she was pulling some shit, god DAMN it.” It was actually, physically getting hotter in the building, the claustrophobic space rapidly turning into an oven. “I ain’t gonna let them fuck me, no way no how. God DAMN that lying whore, god DAMMIT, DAMMIT, DAMMIT –”
Faster than she could blink, the Kansan tore up and out through the roof of Raytown’s strip club. A sprinkle of tattered debris and fresh rain came in, falling on top of a now empty chair.
Good lord, that kid needed some counseling.
Patti took in a huge breath and let it out, closing her eyes. She should probably give Kaycee a heads up. Needed to find her phone first, though. One of the few drawbacks of her perpetual nakedness was a lack of ready communication. “Jack, I’m gonna need a few more minutes.”
Chapter End Notes
“Duncan, have I not told you that when you think you know something, that is a most perfect barrier against learning?”
I included the detail on magical idols in Korea because, despite not really caring about the topic personally, I have been exposed to so much Kpop by osmosis alone that I basically had to. The level of obsession involved with that musical genre is mindboggling to me, I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that my interpretation is what would happen if this story was real.
As for Madame Bodrum, I included that detail because I was fortunate enough to visit the city in question last year. Modern Turkey is not really an interesting place to me (all my purposeful stops in Bodrum were to monuments and fixtures from Antiquity, thus belonging to the Hellenic Republic at least in a cultural sense), but I have very loose ideas for another Bavitz-Madoka fic involving Greece. I actually have more concrete ideas for something involving the Roman Republic; puella magica is Latin for "[a/the] magical girl," after all.
Raymore's strip club does not exist, but there's some sort of massage parlor in the same exact spot which I like to imagine looks like this on the inside. That intersection is always the dingiest place whenever I pass through it, somehow I'm not sure it's ever looked nice.
I always planned to use a quote from the Dune Chronicles somewhere, and when I got around to this I was originally going to use something from Heretics or Chapterhouse because they have some relatively wild, perverse shit in there. All of the more sex-oriented stuff I could find didn't really sound good or didn't fit any sort of theme though, kind of stereotypical and didn't work here. So when I thought on it I decided to use something from God Emperor instead. I firmly believe that Frank Herbert saw the Dune series half as a love letter to the complexities of ecology and politics, and half as a vehicle for him to deliver quotes he thought up while on mind-altering substances. If only his son Brian had shared such proclivities, we might live in a better world.
This chapter is the last one that I ended up writing somehow, and I actually feel pretty good about it!