Static Reflections: Book 1 of The M... - Chapter 43: Chapter 43

Boris ran out of the door of the basement and, in his excitement, left the cellar door open. Marx, outside, questioned where he was off to this late, but the otter was adamant that the deer wasn't getting paid to pry. Slowly, and with metal chinks, the gate rolled open and Boris sped out, heading to his car.
Once he got inside of the dark blue vehicle, he adjusted the mirror, looking at his reflection's darkened eyes. "Okay, I'm going, I'm going." Please . . .
He began driving the car forward down the road, away from the manor. As always with his kills, the general location of his target just came to him. He knew every turn on the way there. It bothered him how he possessed "killer instincts" now. The fact that Boris could locate an animal he was supposed to kill was not ever an ability he thought he'd have.
The otter gripped the wheel tightly as the car rolled down the road. Every time he was on the way to murder, his mind went through a battle of wills, which he always lost. This would all be over . . . eventually . . .
The night was dark and lonely, as always for Boris. The air conditioner in the car added a slight chill to the space and he couldn't take another second before cranking it down two notches. He drove past shop after shop and wondered how such a lively city could be so dead during the night.
Poor choice of words.
The otter looked in the mirror. "Do you know if this animal is some special kind of creature that I can't kill? That would be really helpful to know now."
"I don't," Absalom answered. "He lives alone and he can't speak."
"Can't speak?" Boris frowned. "Why?"
"Yes," the demon nodded. "Make the kill quick. Time drips away every second."
"I'm still driving! And a little past the speed limit at that!" Boris argued. There was no response after his retort. The otter was getting used to having the last word at this rate.
The car slowly pulled up to a medium-sized two-story house, with strange coloring for the paint job. It was too dark to see very clearly, but the little bit of porchlight that shone on the paint revealed that it seemed to be that strange green color that mint ice cream was. The mustelid looked around to make sure there was no one walking about this late or that no cars were coming. He couldn't risk being seen walking in. Luckily, it seemed Mr. Green didn't have any security cameras either.
Boris exited the car and shut the door, walking through the soft green grass and onto the cement walkway leading up the home. After reaching the porch, the otter tried the front door, figuring it wouldn't budge because most animals were smart enough not to leave their homes unlocked.
He pulled out his phone and glanced at the time. It had taken him twenty minutes to get here. Boris still had plenty of time.
Using the light from the porch behind him, he looked into the reflection, reaching his hand forward and pulling out the Blade of the Mirror from the glass door's surface. Hopefully, he has some sort of noise machine or can't hear from up there. The possessed animal flipped the blade around and smashed the pommel as hard as he could against the glass, causing cracks to expand like a spiderweb from where he struck. Boris gave one more hard knock to the same area and made a hole that was a little bigger than he needed.
Boris snaked his skinny brown arm through the space, bending it to the doorknob so he could unlock it. Pulling his appendage back carefully, he grabbed the door handle and slowly pushed it open, the white blinds behind the glass clacking against the wood multiple times.
The otter stepped in, shutting the door behind him and looking at the pieces of glass on the floor. The elongated, sharp shape of one of them reminded him of the piece of glass that had gone through his hand during the Amaranthe fight. He shuddered and quickly made his way toward the stairs, knowing that Ken was up there, somehow. Most likely Absalom's demonic intuition.
Boris wasted no time sightseeing in the home, skulking down the hall and opening the door to Ken Green's room.
CRACK!
Something slammed into the wall to Boris's right and his head whipped in that direction, then immediately went to look at the raccoon sitting up in bed. Boris noticed that the animal was holding a handgun, which was pointed directly at him. The man was obviously ready to defend his property. Shit! The otter turned and began sprinting down the dark hallway, and the loud shuffling and footsteps told him that Ken was right on his heels, the older animal being much faster.
The killer felt arms around his waist, and his right foot slipped on the edge of the stairs, knocking him over, taking Ken with him. They tumbled down the steps, grunting and groaning, and it wasn't even five seconds before the boy's back hit the hard surface of the wall. The two animals struggled against each other, trying to gain the upper hand over the other. As always, the opposite male was stronger than the possessed mustelid. Boris was thankful nothing had bent the wrong way on the fall. At the most, there'd be some bruises.
Boris fought as hard as he could and shifted Ken to the right. The other animal threw a punch and hit his chest, knocking some wind out of him. Trying to rebound, Boris shoved the raccoon down the rest of the stairs, glancing up for the gun he had previously had. It had dropped on one of the steps higher up.
The scrambling from below alerted Boris's vision, and he looked downward, seeing the other animal disappear under the ceiling. He got up and practically leaped down all of the stairs. Ken was digging his keys out of a bowl near the front door and then darting out. Boris tailed after him, seeing his future victim rattle his keys in the car door and fling it open, sliding inside.
Boris ran around, pulling his knife out of the window's reflection and pounding against it. He didn't get to shatter it before the car quickly pulled back, and the cherry-red vehicle launched backward down the driveway, smacking into the fence across the street. Ken turned the wheel and began speeding down the friendly neighborhood asphalt.
The otter quickly got in his own car and turned it on, rolling after his target. Both of their engines roared in the night as they launched down the street. Ken turned down the road, and Boris followed, both of the cars dodging any that were on the other side.
In no time at all, they exited the neighborhood and were gliding in the direction of the highway. A few things ran through Boris's mind as he followed the red lights on the back of Mr. Green's car: One, Ken probably had a phone or some way to contact the police in the car, which would be a problem for Boris if they began coming after him. Two, he knew that his car would definitely be faster than Ken's average one, so he'd catch up soon, already gaining speed. Three . . . the gun.
As they approached a red light, Boris opened the glove box and pulled out the weapon, keeping his left hand gripped on the steering wheel. Unsurprisingly, the raccoon ran the light, beginning the long curve toward the highway.
The once-cautious animal had never driven this fast before, trying to keep the wheel steady while resting the handle of the gun against it. Their cars descended the curved concrete and they were now on the access road, no doubt very close to the highway. At this hour, there would be no traffic struggle aside from a few stragglers who would surely notice the high-speed chase.
Not only was Boris out of his driving element, but he had never shot a gun before, only knowing that you had to cock it and pull the trigger. It would be of limited use to him. They rolled down a ramp and got on the highway, which was quite wide and lined with walls on either side, making it almost like a long expanding corridor. Just as Boris had guessed, there were a few cars ahead of them.
Ken dodged them, swerving left and right as he moved his car between them in slalom with surprising grace. Boris tried to do the same thing, a lot shakier, having to fight the car to straighten out once he got through a small group of honking vehicles.
Boris slammed his foot on the gas pedal, the engine screaming as he increased speed, faster and faster, closer to the car Mr. Green was in. The otter set the gun on his lap and rolled the automatic window down. The wind ripped and growled outside due to the cars' immense velocity. Taking a moment to switch hands, the left now gripping the weapon, Boris kept the car straight with his right, creeping up to the side of Mr. Green's as the possessed killer slowly aimed the gun and pulled the trigger, letting loose a bullet which shattered the raccoon's window, finally.
The cherry red car wiggled and thrashed to become straight again, the side of it colliding with the side of Boris's, which greatly surprised the assailant, causing his vehicle to veer right. The otter let his foot off the gas just a tiny bit, and when Ken's car got a little ahead of him, Boris turned and bumped the front left side of his vehicle into the right side of his target's just behind the back wheel. The wheels screeched against the ground as Ken's car spun around Boris's and smashed into the wall, causing all of the airbags to pop out. The otter slammed on his brakes and, because his car was made for quick stops, it slowed down very quickly to a crawl, letting him turn and park on the side of the road. He quickly got out, running to Ken's car to finish the job.
Boris went to the driver's side, discovering that all of the windows were shattered from the force of the impact with the wall. He opened the door, little shards sprinkling on the ground below as he stepped forward, feeling them crunch beneath his feet. He found Ken there, face bloody and out cold. Boris glanced up at a streetlight, then looked into Mr. Green's side mirror, realizing how anxious he looked. The otter retrieved the Blade of the Mirror from it and looked at Ken, ready to kill. But something held him back.
The fact that this wasn't fair at all. Astrid didn't deserve it, not justified. Travis was a bully, so Boris felt justified. Amaranthe was a sick freak, so Boris felt justified. Pierce was completely innocent, and Boris panicked when he couldn't kill them. Now, faced with taking the life of a mute man, the otter struggled as blue and red lights approached in the distance.
When did Ken lose his voice? Was it recently? Was it because of an injury? And how long had he been struggling with it, possibly being miserable for that amount of time? The otter couldn't imagine not being able to speak and thought he might rather be dead. Did Ken wish the same? There was no telling, and Boris would never be able to see inside his head. He had to finish it, now. If he didn't, Leah would be . . .
Boris slowly leaned into the car, looking at the blood running down Ken's nose and his shut eyes. He took in a deep breath as he brought the edge of the blade to his neck but didn't cut. No. Not a death like that. Just get it over with. He pulled the knife back, aimed it towards Ken's heart, and plunged the short weapon into his chest, killing the animal instantly.
Boris panted heavily, feeling himself shake as he pulled the knife from the flesh and leaned back, loud sirens now very apparent from nearby, the flashing lights changing the scene in Mr. Green's car from red to blue, red to blue, red to blue. The otter pulled back and turned around, seeing that multiple black and white vehicles had blocked the road now, the sirens turning off and the police officers getting out, pointing their handguns at Boris, who most certainly wasn't innocent.
"Drop the weapon!" a gray wolf officer shouted, aiming his gun at the possessed murderer. "Drop it!"
Boris blinked, and his next thought certainly wasn't what he expected. "It's so cold . . ." He even said it out loud for everyone to hear.
"Drop the weapon!" the wolf repeated, stepping closer.
A chill spread through Boris's body, and he knew that if he tried to argue or do anything to these cops, he might risk his life, along with the lives of everyone else he cared about. He slowly began lowering the Blade of the Mirror until his vision went black.
Somehow, already back in the dream world, the otter could feel the chair beneath him; only his hands and legs weren't bound to it this time, which, for some reason, greatly disturbed him. And now, it was extremely dark, and warm rain fell against his fur, running through it and seeping into his clothes. Something within him told him that he had to be patient in this spot for something to happen.
Boris waited for minutes as the rain continued to fall, and as soon as he heard the plinks hitting the surface of the water all around him, he knew that wherever he was had been filling up. Though he didn't feel freaked out by this revelation. Boris wondered why that was when he was possibly in danger of drowning.
A few flashes of lightning changed the whole scene in three quick instances. During those strikes, the room came alive with massive amounts of red pooling around the otter's chair and falling from the great abyss above. Every drop was scarlet and warm, and Boris felt that someone like Pierce would feel lucky in a place like this.
The otter closed his eyes and let the rain continue to fall against him, and his clothes as he waited . . .
Boris wasn't sure how long had passed when he had come to his senses, but the sight was undoubtedly a huge shocker. His dark-furred hand was gripping the golden handle of the Blade of the Mirror, and the end of it was digging right into the gray wolf officer's mouth, the blank stare telling the otter he was already dead.
Letting go of the dagger and looking around, Boris gasped as he noticed that every officer who had come to confront him was murdered with open throats, gouged eyes with leaking sockets, and limp bodies. Had he done all of that by himself? A tiny little otter?
Before he could process it fully, Boris fled back to his dark blue car and got inside, realizing that he was absolutely drenched in the crimson of the police officer's bodies. He pulled the car back and breathed heavily, questioning what could have possibly happened back there as he rolled down the highway once more.
Something caught his eye in the rearview mirror, and he glanced through it at the scene he was leaving behind, to the right of his makeup-bearing visage. On the road around the officers, colorful rectangles appeared. A green one, an orange one, a red one, a blue one . . . Then, animals wearing long jackets started climbing out of them, astonishing the otter as he pressed harder on the accelerator and his car sped up.
Even though he had never seen this phenomenon or these animals before, Boris knew exactly who they were without having to waste another second watching.