By Peter B. and Art Intelli

Chapter 8: Baldy Biker Initiation

I stood in the firelight, my breath still uneven.  I wiped the sweat and blood from my brow and chin.

“So, even though you tried to run, and even though I really don’t trust you, for some reason, I like you, Rabbit, so I’m gonna give you a second chance.  You beat the strongman and thus won the right to make a choice.  Either you pledge to join us, or I skin your strongman buddy alive.  And make you watch every minute of it. So I’m thinking the choice would be kinda easy.”

I knew I had to play along for now.  Give us time to get out of this somehow.

“OK.  You got me. I’m with you.”

Q-Ball paced in front of me, arms crossed, his grin sharp as a knife. “But see, Rabbit, you don’t just join the Baldies. You have to earn your place.”

The other bikers murmured in agreement, seemingly to tighten the circle around us. Their leather vests gleamed in the flickering firelight, the studs and chains reflecting like a thousand sharp teeth.

I forced myself to stand tall, trying to keep my fear buried deep.

Viktor was still locked in that damn cage, but his eyes were on me. I could almost hear his voice in my head: Stay strong. Play along.

Q-Ball stopped pacing. He turned to me, his expression suddenly serious.

“First thing’s first,” he said. “You wanna be one of us?  You gotta look the part.”

The bikers laughed knowingly.

I swallowed. “What does that mean?” Although I surely knew.

Q-Ball snapped his fingers.

Fuzz and Warden stepped forward.

Before I could react, they grabbed me. —one on each arm. I struggled, but they hastily moved to the Barber Chair, dragging me behind them, and before I knew it, I was seated in the chair, the shackles just cut off of me were again picked up, and their chains wrapped around my wrists and padlocked tight to the arms of the chair, holding me fast.

One of the other bikers handed Fuzz a set of Oster Clippers, with several extension cords juicing to power from who knows where…

Fuzz yanked my head back. The then-cold blades from the Osters touched my scalp.

Bzzzz.

The first strip of hair fell away.

Bzzz

Another clump of my hair.

The laughter got louder.

I clenched my fists as Fuzz worked the Osters across my scalp, buzzing it down. Every stroke was humiliating, every pass of the clippers making it more real. Fuzz methodically and skillfully began to pass the clippers over my head again and again, the clumps of hair falling onto the floor, my shoulders, into my eyes. When my head was nothing but stubble, he handed the Osters to Warden.  I shifted in the chair thinking we were done with this humiliating ritual.

But we weren’t.

“Hold still, kid,” Q-Ball said.  “You ain’t quite done yet!”

Fuzz started pulling something from his vest pocket.

I saw the gleam of a straight razor.

My stomach turned to ice.

“You wanna be a Baldy?” Q-Ball smirked. “Then you gotta be a total baldy. Shaved like a man.  Not just some scruffy buzzed down kid.”

The gang roared with laughter.

I thrashed against the chains holding me into the chair.

Fuzz had picked up a can of Barbasol, and he soon spurt a pile of lather on my head, which he roughly spread around with his calloused paw.

The straight razor did its work, carving a path of naked skin from under the shaving suds.

The bikers cheered as the razor made its final sweeps, leaving my scalp perfectly smooth. Then Warden wiped it clean and rubbed in something oily that stung.

Warden grabbed a tin from his saddlebag.

“Gotta make it shine,” he chuckled.

I flinched as a cold after razor polish was slapped onto my head.

The firelight reflected off my freshly shaven head.

I felt exposed. Vulnerable.  But I wouldn’t let them see me break.

Q-Ball strode over, he lifted my chin with a firm hand, and I met his gaze.

He nodded in approval. “Not bad, kid.  What do you think?”

I wanted to scream how I hated it, how I hated them, but I remembered I had to play their game in order for us to get out of this.  So I held Q-Ball’s eyes and said, “I fucking love it.  Let’s do this!”

The chains were relaxed from the chair, and I bounded to my feet.

The gang clapped me on the back, laughing, shouting, welcoming me as one of them.

I wanted to scream.

I glanced at Viktor. He was gripping the bars of his cage, his expression unreadable.

Play along, I reminded myself. Survive first. Escape later.

Q-Ball slung an arm around my shoulders. “Now it’s time for the second part of your initiation.”

I stiffened.

Q-Ball grinned. “You gotta prove your strength.”

The bikers moved aside, revealing a massive steel dumbbell resting on the ground.

I blinked.

It was huge — probably heavier than anything I’d lifted before.

Q-Ball patted my freshly shaved head. “Strongman training, right? Let’s see if it paid off.”

I stepped forward, my shackles clanking.

Viktor had trained me well. I could do this.

I squared my stance, planted my feet, and bent down, gripping the dumbbell’s thick handle.

The metal was cold in my hands.

I took a breath. Then—

I pulled.

The weight barely budged.

Laughter erupted around me.

I gritted my teeth and pulled again.

My muscles screamed.

The chains around my ankles made it harder — I couldn’t get the right leverage.

Q-Ball smirked. “C’mon, Rabbit. Prove yourself.”

I yanked with everything I had.

The dumbbell lifted.

Just an inch.

Then another.

The laughter stopped.

I let out a roar and stood up, the massive weight in my hands.

The gang cheered.

I dropped the dumbbell with a thud, my chest heaving.

Q-Ball grinned. “Not bad, Rabbit. Maybe you’re worth something after all.”

I clenched my fists, my scalp still burning from the shave.

Q-Ball turned to look at Viktor’s cage. “So now I believe we all remember what happens to this loser, yes? What we’ll do with you?  Hmm?” He started to shout: “We’ll be keeping you right where you are.  Padlocked in a cage.  No food.  And you can forget about any water now, too.  You’ll just stay there.  That’ll make sure our new recruit Rabbit here doesn’t try anything funny.  In case he decides not to stay loyal to us…”  Q-Ball turned to me with that hard look in his eyes: “You’re gonna stay loyal, Rabbit, aren’t you?”

I sheepishly nodded.

“Then, go tell your buddy in the kennel there that you’ve sworn allegiance to the Baldies, and that he will be left alone to rot in that cage when we pull up stakes in a few weeks…I want him to hear it from you!”

I didn’t move.

“Tell him!” Q-Ball bellowed.

I moved slowly to Viktor’s cage.  I felt helpless.  Hopeless.  But I did as Q-Ball had ordered.