Static Reflections: Book 1 of The M... - Chapter 15: Chapter 15

Tyler and Boris stepped up to enter the Lowball's doors, a horse bouncer sent away the animals in front of them for being drunk before stepping into the establishment. The animal, a brown stallion, held his hand up. "Hold up. How old is the otter?"
Boris patted himself. "I'm twenty, sir."
"Hm . . . you do sound mature for your looks . . . ."
"It's the rich trash tone," Tyler answered, and the horse chuckled.
"T-trash?!" Boris frowned.
"I'm just messing around," Tyler said.
The horse held out his hand. "Regardless, I still have to check your IDs."
The two animals grabbed their wallets (Boris would call it a billfold) and showed each of their IDs to the bouncer, who studied them closely. Boris' license was that of a typical Texas 'Under 21' license, still in a vertical format and stating that he would be a minor until Christmas of that year. He wasn't smiling in his photo. Because Tyler was over 21, his license was in a portrait format, and it had all the makings of a regular license. In his picture, though, Tyler was smiling.
Boris didn't say it but found it strange that an animal like Hugh would let the German shepherd even have a license. As far as he knew, he had never seen Tyler drive. He or Nick was always the driver. And there was no way that Hugh let Tyler borrow his car.
The horse nodded. "The ott can't have alcohol, even if he is the son of Gerald Downing."
At the sound of his father's name, Boris looked down. He just disappeared from Downing Manor without saying goodbye to his father or Molly or especially Leah. Indeed, they'd notice his absence. He chalked it up to the fact that Absalom was probably taking care of it.
"Alright, thanks," Tyler grinned. "Come on, Bor. Let's party."
"Right," Boris nodded, and they walked forward. Tyler opened the door, and, as it always had when someone did that, the music burst out of the building so loud that Boris felt like his eardrums would explode.
They entered and went down the next hallway, which had been bathed in an ominous red light. Taped along the wall were posters that advertised events in Austin and things going down at the Lowball at later dates. The music crescendoed with each step, and finally, Boris and Tyler entered the sizable open club area with a relatively low roof and an ocean of animals.
The first thing Boris noticed was all the outfits, or a lot of the time, lack thereof. Like Tyler, there were a lot of shirtless men wearing shorts and dancing. Quite a few of them had masks of strange designs; others just clearly wore as little as they could. Some women wore dresses or bathing suits, it seemed, and they also had masks. Boris wondered why they would want to hide their faces, but he didn't know what party culture was.
Then, there were the more intense outfits. Boris noticed outfits made up of straps and hoods that he was pretty sure he had only seen on 18+ websites. A few of the animals were being led around on leashes, wearing collars and seeming very happy to do so. Some even wore muzzles purposefully. Almost everyone had removed their shoes.
Animals of all types wore wigs that gave them strange hairstyles. Boris would forever wonder what the point of that was. It was also undeniable that a lot of animals were fur dyers. Some had even colored their fur in a way that it glowed beneath the long blacklights above, making them look unnatural.
Speaking of glowing, almost every animal sported glow sticks that they wore on their wrists, digits, ankles, hung on their ears, antlers, and even on the base of some tails. Every color of glowstick possible was out there. Thanks to the bouncing music and constantly moving bodies of the bar's patrons, they were drawing lines of light every which way. It was a rainbow catastrophe out there.
The establishment itself was laid out rather simply. From the entrance, the stage with the DJ was on the left. Boris didn't understand why the lemur needed sunglasses in here as it was incredibly dark. Straight ahead, the bar stretched along the wall, excited animals taking up every seat. The canine's tails were wagging there. Multiple bartenders walked along and fetched drinks. On the bar wall, surrounded by shelves of alcohol, was a big "Lowball" sign that reflected the one outside, cursive lettering and all. Only this one wasn't blinking.
To the bar's right, still along the back wall, was a hallway that led to the bathrooms, a similar neon sign to the rest above that would help any animal find their way there. Animals seemed to walk in and out of these constantly, and it seemed like they were going to any bathroom they wanted. That made Boris feel more uncomfortable.
To the right of the building itself were round white tables where rave-goers could relax and take a break and eat. Laughing and eating animals occupied almost every table here. One table had a raccoon that was facedown in his arms, a cup of liquor beside him.
Boris was glad he didn't have epilepsy, but the lights sure made him want to have a seizure all the same. He found it rather annoying. They changed color with the music, and when the song built up, a white strobe light had to activate every time. A fog machine also let lasers shoot around the place, and some felines close to the wall found this very interesting, it seemed. The otter felt like the purple blacklights above, and the colorful lights from the stage didn't go well together. It was visually nauseating to look at this place.
On the note of nausea, the music wasn't like anything Boris had ever heard or listened to. It was loud, electronic, grating, and constantly built up to drops for a reason he couldn't explain. There were many strange sounds, and it was clear all the music was made from a software program. It wasn't even anything like Water on Fire would make.
And the smell in the building was a lot to handle. Due to his wealthy lifestyle, Boris had gotten used to the clean and pristine odors of chemicals and cleaning agents. Downing Manor was very sterilized and clean at all times, thanks to the wealth of maids and caretakers they employed for the big building. Now, he was surrounded by dancing lower-class animals who didn't care what was happening around them or what they wore in public. It smelled somewhat musty to Boris, and his nose wrinkled the moment he walked in. Fortunately, he knew that the nose got used to smells, even bad ones, eventually.
Tyler's tail was wagging as he looked at the crowd. "Aw, hell yeah, these are my animals! Gonna be great for taking my mind off my parents! Come on, let's go put our shoes down with all the others."
Still feeling very anxious and wanting to turn in the other direction, the otter swallowed his disgust and followed behind him, happy to leave the stupid flip-flops behind. The duo reached the edge of a massive lake of pairs upon pairs of shoes and slipped theirs off, the carpet on the floor warm to the touch. Sweet freedom.
Tyler stretched his arms across his body and sighed, speaking loudly over the tune. "I'm gonna go to the bar and get a drink. You get on the dance floor and find that guy."
"Dance floor?!" Boris asked, head glancing over in that direction.
"Yeah! He's more than likely doing it up down there!"
"You shouldn't get drunk," Boris stated.
"Don't worry. I don't want to stick around when things get ugly," Tyler said. "But after talking about shit, I need a drink."
"Well . . . okay," Boris nodded. "I'll go do my thing, then."
"Don't talk about it so casually. It's still horrible."
"I know, I know! I apologize! Keep an eye on me!"
"Will do!" The canine was about to walk away when an animal holding a plethora of glowsticks came by. Tyler froze at the sight of all the strings of color.
"Take as many as you'd like!" the squirrel yelled.
Tyler immediately grabbed about twenty, holding them up and smiling when he found they all came with the plastic connector pieces. Immediately, he began crunching them to life and making loops.
Boris held his hand up. "I'm fine, thank you."
"Oh, but your attire is so fun!" The squirrel shouted. "Here, take some purple and pink ones!" He stepped closer.
"No! I'm fine!" Boris hissed. "I don't want any."
"Aww, okay . . ." The squirrel frowned, leaving him alone.
Boris exhaled, leaving Tyler to his own devices as he began approaching the crowd on the dance floor. All those outfits, all those colors, all that fur. How hot it must be. This wasn't his place, and these weren't his animals.
And all of his fur was showing to everyone, which made him nervous. He half-expected them all to stop and look at him, staring at how exposed he was. He longed for the suit that was waiting for him in the car. And his shoulders were cold. Even the tile floor was freezing against his feet.
The small animal stepped forward, weaving in between the dancing animals of all shapes and sizes, shaking it and getting down. Some danced together, and some danced alone. There were ones that held conversations as they moved, and some were utterly lost in the music, somehow.
Now that he was closer, Boris could see all the glowsticks that the animals carried and wore. Quite a few animals doubled up on the necklace variety, made from two connected sticks. Most of them had more than one, more than five, on their wrists. They swung around their necks like hula hoops as they moved their bodies to the intense beat.
Boris was entirely out of his comfort zone, but it wasn't like being possessed was ever comfortable, either. His eyes began scanning the crowd. White wolf, white wolf. . . . My god, there are a lot more white wolves here than I thought. He should have known this wouldn't be easy. The otter found canine after snow-white canine, and while they all wore different outfits, he had no clue which one Amaranthe would be in.
After a few minutes of searching, Boris glanced over and saw the dark figure of Tyler, sipping from a glass and hanging his head, tail drooping. Of course, the shepherd was still sad after the talk outside.
Boris honestly wanted to walk over there and comfort him, but unfortunately, he knew it was currently time to be a murderer. Maybe there would be time for that later. Maybe . . .
There was a tap on his shoulder and his head whipped around, seeing a vixen with orange and white fur that glowed in the purple light. It looked like the tips of her cheek fur were dyed blue. She wore a red sparkly dress and matching lipstick. "Sorry to bother you, otter boy, but I've noticed you searching for something for a few minutes now."
Boris stood still as animals moved and spun around them. "Oh, uh, yes. I'm searching for my friend."
"Ooh, not a girlfriend, I hope."
Boris swallowed at that. "N-no, of course not. He's a white wolf."
"Well, maybe he'll find you," the vixen smiled. "I'm Vivienne."
"Boris."
"I knew you looked familiar!"
"Oh?"
She began moving her body to the music, stamping her feet with the rest of the crowd. She continued to raise her voice. "Yeah! You're the son of Gerald Downing. I've seen you on my news app."
"Oh . . . I guess I didn't realize that anyone remembered what I looked like," Boris yelled back.
"Hard to forget a cute face like yours!" She winked.
Boris' heart skipped a beat. "I don't have any money for you."
Vivienne laughed. "I don't want your money."
"Oh?"
"I want to dance with you!" The fox cooed, stepping forward and holding her clawed hands out for him to take. It looked like she painted her claws a myriad of colors.
Again, Boris's heart accelerated, and he wanted to turn and run in the other direction. "Oh, I'm sorry, but I don't dance."
"Why not?"
"Well, I just don't. I don't know how and I wouldn't be good at it."
She paused, then barked out a laugh. "You don't have to be good at something to have fun!"
Boris blinked. "Then what's the point?"
"Let me show you." She got closer and grabbed his hands, pulling his arms forward and back. "Now step with your feet and move your hips."
Boris stared at her brown eyes and gulped. "I-I can't!"
"Yes, you can! Anyone can!"
"They'll see me!"
"Who?" She looked around. "The animals around us? They're minding their own business."
"Yes, but—"
"Come on!" She said, flicking her tail and moving her head to the beat.
Boris huffed and began stepping this way and that, moving his head to the terrible music.
"There you go!" Vivienne whooped. "You're dancing!"
"I still hate it," Boris called, continuing to move.
"That's fine!" the fox giggled. She undid the loop from the yellow and purple glow stick necklace she wore and put it around his neck, sliding the end in the tube to reconnect it.
"Uh, thanks, I guess," Boris blinked.
"You needed a little light," Vivienne smiled, her white fangs glowing along with the whites of her eyes. It looked freaky. "Too dark in here."
"I suppose," Boris said, and they continued dancing together.
As they went on, Boris saw multiple other white wolves but couldn't tell if any one of them was Amaranthe. There were so many animals around them. The animal in front of him was rather kind, and he didn't want her to see him as a monster, but he still had a job to do. And as much as he wanted to, he wasn't enjoying the dancing even after minutes of doing it.
Vivienne stopped, putting her hands on her hips. She leaned forward. "Hey! I have some water at the table. My purse is there, too! Let's go take a break."
"Well, I really should find my friend . . . ." Boris muttered, though she couldn't hear it.
"Come on," she waved, and Boris decided to follow her out of the crowd to one of the tables near the wall. She sat and groaned, rubbing her back. "I have a bad back."
Boris pulled out a chair and set it, so it was facing her. He sat down. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"I was in a car accident two years ago. I'm glad I survived, but the surgery hurt like a bitch!"
Images of what happened to Tyler's family crossed Boris's mind, and he shook his head. "I'm glad you survived, too."
"Haha, yeah! I came here with some friends, but I think they left without me or something. They were drinking pretty hard."
"I'm surprised you're not drunk yourself," Boris pointed out.
Vivienne shook her head. "Oh, no, no, no. In the past. I'm sober now."
"It's bothersome how loud the music is," Boris yelled.
"I love it!" Vivienne nodded and then placed her hand on the glowing white table cloth, stroking the fabric with a claw.
"I guess it's your thing," Boris said.
"I was always a party animal," Vivienne answered. "So, you can cut the bullshit now."
"Excuse me?" Boris blinked.
"This is clearly not your thing, dude. What the hell are you doing here?"
Boris placed his hands in his lap, sighing heavily. Make up a lie, make up a lie . . . . "I came with my friend. He always frequents places like this, and I never do, so he wanted to bring me along. I quickly realized that it's not for me."
Vivienne's smile never left. She nudged her knee against his. "Hey, it's not all bad, right? At least you got the best company."
Boris had to admit that he liked her energy. It reminded him of Page, the bunny drummer from Water on Fire. He had always looked up to her for her cheerful and robust spirit. If only he could have that. "You're right."
"I just had an idea!" She said, reaching down for her purse.
Boris reached up and fussed with the thing around his neck, unaccustomed to having anything that constantly moved around there. He saw the purple color from the bottom of his field of vision.
Vivienne dug around in her red velvet purse for a moment, the strap falling against her arm as it shifted on her leg. Finally, she pulled out a black marker with silver lettering that somehow reflected the lights around. "Scoot your chair closer."
Boris did so, unsure of why. He was wasting time! He should be out there finding his target! The sooner he took him down, the sooner he would be out of here—out of the woods. And yet, something about the vixen allured him.
She took off the skinny marker's cap, revealing a black pointed tip. "Lean forward."
"Why?" Boris asked.
"Just do it, dude!"
The otter reluctantly did so, and she brought the marker up toward him. He drew back, the chair skittering along the carpet. "What are you doing?"
"Relax! It's just makeup. You'll look amazing!"
Boris blinked. "Makeup?! Why?!"
"For fun! Come on!" She held it up closer. "Let me do it as thanks for teaching you those sweet moves."
"I don't even like dancing," Boris argued.
"Come on."
Boris sighed. He had never worn makeup before, despite Leah constantly goading him into letting her practice on him. He'd always vehemently turn it down. The otter wondered why this complete stranger had some sort of effect on him. He leaned forward.
Vivienne brought the marker forward and connected it below his eye, gently moving it left and right in short, quick strokes. With each return movement, she moved along the length of the eyelid.
Boris stared at her pretty face as she worked. Her smile disappeared, now replaced by pursed lips. This animal he had never met before had got him to dance and was doing this to him. Did he feel attracted to her? Not exactly in that way, but he did feel some sort of magnetism between them like he wanted her to be his friend.
Vivienne moved to his top lid as his mind wandered to where Tyler was and what he might be doing. Had he, perhaps, seen the two together? Boris hoped not.
And then his mind was on his target. That would completely obliterate anything between this vixen and he, even as friends.
He stayed silent until she finished his other eye, and as she pulled away, he grabbed her wrist. "Vivienne!"
She gasped for a moment and looked at the otter. "Yes?"
"You need to leave."
"What? Why?"
Boris let go and looked down. "Just trust me!"
"Trust you? What's going on? Do you not want to hang out with me?"
"No, no, no! It's not you! Please, it's for your own good! Leave and don't come back tonight!"
"Is something happening? Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine! But you won't be if you stay!"
"Should I be calling the police?"
"No! Please!" Boris now begged, getting on his knees, Vivienne looking down with a shocked face at him. "Please! I mean it! Just trust me!"
"Why can't I know?"
"Please, Vivienne! I am not one to beg, and I am begging now! Just do it! Take your things and leave!"
Vivienne sighed heavily. "Will I see you again?"
Boris knew that she wouldn't, but he smiled and nodded. "Of course."
"Can I get your number?"
"Alright."
Vivienne huffed, clearly frustrated. She opened her purse and dug around, pulling out a crumpled receipt and blue pen. She spread it out on the table. "Write it on this."
Boris stood up and bent over the table, taking the pen and writing his name on the back of the heavily wrinkled receipt. The words came out jittery and ugly. Debating on putting his actual number for a moment, Boris opted for a fake one and wrote a random Austin phone number, feeling sorry for Vivienne but not wanting to put her life at risk. She was too kind.
Vivienne stood up from her chair and grabbed the receipt and the water she hadn't even touched since they sat down. A dark, wet ring was imprinted on the table cloth beneath it. "Alright, then, Boris Downing. I'm off! Please be safe."
"Thank you. I'll see you again."
"I hope you find your friend!"
"I will!"
She looked between his two eyes, now sporting dark eyeliner, for a moment, and then turned on her bare heel and walked away.
Boris sighed, and a wave of relief washed over him. Another life was saved. Thank goodness. She wouldn't have to witness him become a monster. He walked away from the tables and decided to head into the bathroom to consult Absalom on what to do next.
When he pushed open the heavy maroon door, he was surprised to find that the bathroom was empty. Not only that, but it was clean, too. There were three stalls and five urinals. The walls were a light brown on the actual brown part, separated by a line of black wood that went around the whole bathroom. Below the wood, the plastic part of the wall was a darker brown. The lighting in the bathroom was a lot more pleasant, opting for a calm white and not a strobing one. Somehow, the floor tiles were as clean as ever, pleasing to Boris's feet.
Boris noted that one of the stall doors was closed, and he knew that the bathroom had to be empty if he was going to look like a crazy animal and talk to the mirror. He walked toward one of the urinals and took a moment to get over how disgusting it was to do business in a public restroom, but eventually got it done and washed his hands and stood off to the side, pretending to be interested in his phone.
The toilet flushed in the stall, and it unlocked, a large white wolf stepping out in a pink and dark pink-striped tank top and floral shorts. No shoes, as per usual here. Boris stared as the white wolf washed his hands, a yellow glow stick around his left wrist and a blue one around his right. The wolf had blue, red, and green glow sticks around his neck and a purple bead necklace. His fluffy white tail swayed behind him.
Boris felt it in his chest as soon as he saw him come out of the stall. He was his target. There was no doubt about it. His gut felt like scrambled eggs just looking at him.
The wolf's ear twitched, and his head turned as he shut off the faucets and pulled out three paper towels, crumpling them up as he dried the fur on his hands. "Can I help you?"
The voice was more feminine than Boris initially assumed, and he shook his head. "Me? Oh, no. Sorry." He looked back down at his phone.
The snow-white animal shrugged. "Huh. Alright." He walked past the otter and opened the door, slipping away before Boris had the chance to make his move.
The light flickered in the bathroom, and Boris looked around, walking up to the mirror, seeing his dark pseudo there, holding a strange white object.
Boris tilted his head. "What's this?"
"Take it, quickly," Absalom said, moving the object in a way so that a triangle of it poked out of the mirror, and Boris was able to grab it.
He pulled it out and turned it over, finding that it was a plastic Halloween mask in the shape of a gray wolf's head. Why animals dressed as other animals for Halloween, he'll never know. He never celebrated the holiday.
In the back of the mask was a thin black strap that went around his head. There were soft yellow cushions on the inside of the forehead and chin. The muzzle extended in a way where Boris's own could fit comfortably inside. "What is this?"
"Hurry up and put it on," Absalom crooned.
"Why?"
"Hurry! Before someone comes in!"
Boris blinked and pulled the strap on the mask, slipping it over his head and sliding it down until his eyes lined up with the two holes. The object on his face appeared in the mirror, surprisingly, now on the face of Absalom. Boris could see the dark makeup around their eyes through the spaces.
"I look ridiculous in here," Boris said to the reflection.
"It doesn't matter," Absalom said. He picked up the Blade of the Mirror, which had been waiting on the sink counter in front of him. He passed it back and forth between his hands. "Did you know that feral wolves hunt feral sheep? Tear up their flesh and devour the meat greedily? It's quite the sight."
"I did know that," Boris nodded. "What does that have to do with me?"
"Well . . . " Absalom clearly smirked from the way the mask slightly lifted on his face. He passed the knife into his right hand, grabbing it by the silver blade and passing it through the glass for Boris to grasp, which he did. "Go tear apart your sheep."