Alex Reynard
The Library
Alex Reynard's Online Books
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Toby's eyes slowly opened as his thoughts fluttered back into existence.
He was surrounded by pink fur again. Zinc had been spot-on about this place being cozy. In that moment, the only thing Toby knew, or cared to know, was just how comfortable he was. His whole body was surrounded in snuggly warmth. The kind of fuzzy heat that makes you drowsier by the moment. He thought he wouldn't mind staying here for the rest of his life.
He was tempted to. Extraordinarily tempted to. But there was a note a few inches away and it was nibbling at his curiosity.
He tried to remember how to make his arm work. Like a sleepy fat snake, it lolled out from under the covers and his hand failed three times to make contact with the paper. When he held it in front of his eyes, it took considerable effort just to blink away the sleep dust and focus. Wrangling the letters to stay in place so he could read them was just enough of a chore to bring his consciousness fully to the surface.
Dear Toby,
You looked so cute, I decided to let you sleep in. Me and the others are
gonna go have breakfast at a place Zinc says is just across the street.
Swood's Food. Meet us there! And good morning!
-Piffle.
Toby smiled warmly. She was so sweet.
Blinking a lot, he forced himself to sit up, then yawned exactly five times. He briefly panicked as he wondered where in the heck his normal clothes were. Then he remembered he'd worn nothing but his pajamas for several weeks now. From there it was just a matter of retrieving his bracers and pouch from where he'd left them last night, figuring out how to work the tube hatch, then screaming a bit as it suddenly sucked him up.
He'd been FOOMPed headfirst, so he had no idea how the machine managed to land him on his feet in the lobby. He appreciated it though. Mr. Roosman was there, having fallen asleep at the front desk. (Or rather he seemed asleep, since his 'headlights' weren't on.)
He stirred and noticed Toby. Both said good morning to each other. Toby asked where Swood's was and Roosman pointed directly across from the hotel. Toby could even see it through the door glass.
Just before he left, the mouse gently inquired about why the proprietor happened to be a cloud of ash. Roosman chuckled like he'd gotten used to the question years ago. He said he'd been traveling through Cachexy when a nightmare had eaten him and excreted him into this form. He soon realized how handy it could be and stayed that way. "It really helps with the dusting."
Roosman told him to have a nice day and Toby thanked him. Then the mouse stepped out, alone, onto the evermoving walkways of Ectopia Cordis.
He was very glad his destination was directly in front of him, because even just crossing the street felt daunting. 'This city probably never stops being busy,' he thought. It was still night out, as always, but lights from the ferris wheels above created a decent impression of dawn. Scads of citizens were bustling to and fro. Some looked like the kind of fursons you would not want to accidentally bump into. Like the bobcat over there whose teeth were so huge they literally overflowed his face. Or the leggy penguin packing a submachine gun.
Plus there was the carpetwalks themselves to contend with. Each one was a different speed and they weren't all traveling in the same direction. Toby did some dance moves that probably amused the hell out of the more experienced residents. Some of them slid across the street as smoothly as if they were ice skating. Toby looked like a frog on a hot plate. Though he was kind of proud of himself for leaping completely over the fastest-moving middle path, landing on the other side without falling over.
The others had chosen a table near the big window in Swood's Foods, so Toby was relieved to see Zinc's big wrench waving him over.
It was a cramped little fast food joint. Or more accurately, a fast-imaginite joint. No need for a menu. His friends all had mostly-empty plates in front of them, indicating they'd been sitting for a while. Toby felt bad about having kept them waiting. Though when they beckoned him over, he held up a 'waitaminnit' finger and headed to the counter.
"Two pounds, please," he asked the morbidly obese canary behind the register.
He even challenged himself to pay for it. Despite waking up feeling well-refreshed, there was still a rumbling layer of unease in his belly from last-night's unpleasantness. The dream and his subsequent soul-searching were mostly blurs now, but he remembered the emotions from them clear as day. He remembered the feeling of his guts tied up in knots, of being reacquainted with heart-stopping, blood-freezing fear. He remembered the shame, frustration and hopelessness of his insights about himself. And he channeled all this into the willwell. He made the red line 'ding' after a perfectly-respectable 49 seconds.
Returning to his friends, his cheap plastic chair screeched against the tile as he seated himself. He plopped his tray down in front of Zinc.
"Hey there, dustbunny. You're lookin' like you slept pretty hard." Zinc reached over to adroitly smooth down Toby's cowlick. "And thanks for the offer, but I'm already full." The canine indicated he'd already buzzsawed through a corned beef omelet. George was pecking at the crumbs.
Toby realized he had forgotten to comb his fur and ran his paws over his face a few times. "Actually, I want you to activate my breakfast for me, if you don't mind."
"By the by, good morning Sire Toby!" George added.
He gave the temporary-bird a smile. "Good morning too! Oh, and thanks for the note, Piffle."
She nodded. "I woke up hungry last night and was gonna get some cookies, but I found you instead. I don't know how you slept in that position! But you looked like you'd had a nightmare or something so I tucked you back in and let you snooze some more."
As soon as she said it, it occurred to him he'd had no idea how he'd ended up back between the sheets after his nocturnal interruption. "Thanks for that!" he said, and reached across the table to hug her.
Needless to say, this pleased her immensely.
Junella was still picking at her onion rings. "G'morn, Tobe," she slurred, fingers barely glancing the grooves. She looked like half her brain was still in bed.
"Didn't sleep too good?" he asked. "How was the hot tub?"
She smiled a bit at that. "Oh, it was wonderful," she purred. "Too good, akchally. I melted and went down the drain. When I finally woke up I was halfway to Bigwheel Six. I had to climb outta a fuggin' faucet in somebody's house and ride that slap-thing back up here. Crawled into bed and only got about three more hours."
"Sorry to hear that," Toby said.
She shrugged. "Kinda worth it. Imma make Piffle buy me one of those hot tubs when we get home."
When the night's recap was finished, Zinc asked again what Toby had meant about his breakfast.
Toby had made the decision completely on a whim and now was a little hesitant to mention it. "Um, can you turn that into what you ate last night? Minus the beers, of course."
Zinc arched an eyebrow. "Doth my ears deceive me? You want yourself a Piffleburger? I thought eatin' people grossed you out."
Toby made an 'au contraire' gesture. "Yes, but that's not a person, it's imaginite. It'll just be what you remember Piffle tasting like."
Zinc grinned at the logic of it. "It'll still be rocks though."
"Rocks I can deal with. That's less weird than people. And I'm in a weird mood this morning anyway. All I know for sure is, I'm hungry, and I realized I probably haven't eaten a big fat cheeseburger in a decade. I'm overdue."
Zinc was shocked to hear this. "Betcher ass you are!! No burgers for ten years!? That's positively unpatriotic! Of course I'll help you!" Toby pointed out he wanted two root beer floats to drink, and Zinc willed the plateful of crystals into a perfect replica of the double bacon hamsterburger he'd had at The Gastroworks.
Toby had trouble wrapping his hands around the thing. He bit into it and the flavor practically blew his brains out. Meat juice dribbled down his chin. He moaned obscenely. Suddenly he was even more in disbelief that he'd managed to live so many years on the most flavorless foods in the world.
Piffle was quite happy to see him enjoying it so much. "Maybe it'll inspire you to try some of me for real sometime!"
The others chatted about various subjects while Toby's focus was far away in Hamburger Heaven. The crunch of the bacon! The freshness of the lettuce! The smoky thrill of flame-grilled flesh! Toby demolished half of it before he even remembered he had two drinks.
After he finished and his tummy felt taut as a basketball, Toby waited for a pause in the conversation and asked what the day's itinerary was.
Junella sang out, "We covered all that before you got here. Unless you have any objections, the plan is for us to first go pay a visit to RB&WB's survival supplies." (She pronounced it 'rub and wub'.) "Piffle has graciously offered to foot the bill, so we're gonna clean the place out. The Fearsleigher's gonna wind up the badassest goddam tank this world has ever seen." She grinned with gusto. "That reminds me, Piff. Cough up the car."
Piffle felt around her internal storage space, then daintily sneezed into a napkin. There in the center was the little black jellybean they'd stored the Fearsleigher in. "Good morning, Doll!" Piffle shouted at it, not sure whether her friend could hear it.
"You; that; pocket," Junella ordered Zinc. He saluted and tucked it away safely in his jacket. Junella pointed to Toby. "After shopping, I guess we can all go someplace together if you like. Knowing Zinc, he'll probly drag us to some noisy shit like Luxyland."
Zinc's eager grin told them that was exactly what he'd planned.
Toby had inferred by now that this was a local amusement park. He took a sip of root beer. "Do they have a ferris wheel there?" he deadpanned.
Junella wasn't sure for a second whether Toby was serious, but then guffawed.
Zinc did too. "Actually, yeah. Dinky little thing. They call it, for real, 'Total Pointlessness'."
Toby snorted at that.
***
"Are there any elevators?" Toby asked. "I'm NOT going on the slap-thing again."
"Aw, but they're fun!" Zinc wheedled.
"NO."
"Psssht, daintypaws. There's elevators, yeah. But they're slow and mostly for freight."
"Fine by me!"
***
Back on the street, Toby's attention was drawn to something he'd first noticed in Stoma, had seen again in Coryza, and had been seeing all this time in Ectopia without being fully cognizant of it. There were far, far more children and teenagers around him than there should have been. Normally, especially on a street this busy, he would have expected to see 70-80% adults. But instead it was nearly the opposite. It was the sort of thing that was so plainly in front of his nose he kept forgetting to notice it. But he remembered again what Piffle had said, about this world reducing people to that pure state of fear only children experience. Toby took a moment to spot a few adults and marvel again at the fact they'd been forced to spend that long coping with a land like this.
The elevators turned out to be enormous. Birdcage-like platforms which fifty or so people could all fit onto if they squeezed. The cages trundled along, upwards and downwards, on a pulley system similar to a ski-lift. And, what a surprise, the pulleys were turned by more ferris wheels. Piffle steadied Toby's arm as they all hopped onto a rising cage. Toby wasn't sure whether he wanted to stand in the middle where there was nothing to hang onto, or wrap himself around one of the bars, which meant he'd inevitably see over the edge to the several-hundred-foot drop.
George asked permission to fly on ahead to try out his wings some more. Toby said that was fine and managed a little smile at the former horse's caw of pleasure as he corkscrewed up and out of sight. Then Toby resumed trying not to look down. And trying not to think about last night.
Junella and Zinc discussed the various things they were hoping to buy at the survival store. Piffle noticed Toby's faraway, troubled expression and guessed it wasn't entirely caused by vertigo.
"You okay, Toby? What's eatin' ya?"
"Oh, I don't know," he moaned. "I'm mixed-up. I slept good and my breakfast was excellent-" She beamed at that. "-but last night... I really went through the wringer."
"Bad dream?"
He nodded. "An awful one. And when I woke up, I was all full of doubt and depression. I tore myself up, questioning everything about my life and myself. I didn't know what I was even doing anymore and..." He paused. "Am I boring you?"
Her antennae shot up. "No, Toby! Why would you think that?"
He ran a paw through his headfur. "It feels like all I ever do is complain."
The hamsterfly came close and patted his shoulder reassuringly. "You've been through a lot. It's understandable. And I know that getting it off your chest helps. I don't mind being your listener."
"Thank you. You're a very giving furson."
She bounced a little.
"But yeah... I'm more jumbled-up than normal this morning. Plus, now that I think of it, and this is gonna sound really weird... I almost miss waking up feeling terrible all the time."
Piffle cocked her head at that.
"Like... back when I was alive and sick nine mornings out of ten I'd feel like someone with bad breath had been chewing on me all night long. But here, I don't have any of my old symptoms anymore. Not the muscle aches, the nerve spasms, the eye-crusts. It's... unsettling. I mean, I'm glad for it! Don't think I'm not! I'll even say it's the one solidly good thing about this place. But still..." He fumbled for words. "You get into a routine, even a horrible one, and you feel uncomfortable when it changes."
She nodded at that. "And do you feel worried? Like the symptoms are gonna come back again?"
"Exactly!!" he shouted. "I'm on edge sometimes. Every cough, every little muscle ache, I'm worried what it'll lead to. Things like that. I feel like it's just too lucky for it all to have gone away. Like it's all just waiting to pounce back."
She squeezed his paw. "There are still diseases 'n stuff here. But it's mostly from being bitten by nightmares 'n stuff. Everyone I've talked to says the same thing: when you first come here, your new body's a clean slate."
Toby was glad to hear it. He held Piffle's warm, soft paw and felt slightly ashamed at how often she was there to help or comfort him. What had he given back to her? "Piffle... I barely know why I'm doing this anymore. Why do you stay? What's in it for you?"
She laughed. "Are you cuh-razy? I'm on an adventure! I might get to see Anasarca! I'd hoped to scoop some action when I left home, but I never expected all this! Excitement! Danger! Good friends!"
He liked being referred to as a good friend, and hoped he could do more to live up to that description.
Toby was about to reply when Junella slipped over, looking sheepish, and asked Piffle for the dozenth time, "Are you sure you're still okay with this? Y'know, paying for our shopping spree?"
Piffle handwaved her worries. "It's fine. Really! I like helping out. Plus, maybe I wanna see all the crazy doodads you're gonna add to the car, huh?"
Junella nodded. "Allright. Still, I'm not someone who's used to taking charity. Feels weird."
"Well, it'll be a fun challenge for me. I've never met a willwell I can't fill." She smirked bashfully, hoping that didn't sound like bragging. "Don't know why! Just lucky, I guess."
"Now, see, that attitude I can't get my head around. If it was me that could do what you do, I'd be the greediest bitch alive. I'd buy a hundred-foot-tall throne so I could look down on everybody else an' piss on 'em while I laughed my ass off. But just giving it away to somebody else?" She shook her head, chuckling. "This'd be so much easier on me if I was tricking you into this."
Piffle chuckled too. "I can pretend if you like!" She twirled around. "La-la-la! I am an innocent, naive girl with no idea I am about to be taken advantage of by scoundrels!"
Zinc busted a gut. "Thanks, though, for bankrollin' us. It means a lot. I've been beyond EC with Juney a few times. There's some real bad times out there. I'm gonna feel a lot better if we're heading Hellward fully stocked."
"You're very welcome," Piffle replied, curtseying.
Zinc bowed and lifted her paw to his lips for a gentlemanly kiss. "The lady is a gracious benefactor."
Piffle squirmed in delight. "Oh you kid!"
***
Toby was unsurprised to learn that the further up you went in Ectopia Cordis, the ritzier the buildings got. It made sense, height equating to status. So when Zinc told him that their destination was on level Forty-Eight out of fifty-two, Toby expected some serious fanciness.
He was not disappointed. They only had to walk a few blocks from the elevator before they turned a corner and beheld the majesty of Rippingbean & Woofingbutter's: Ectopia Cordis' largest and most legendary survival goods supplier.
Toby had never seen a building look so much like a chandelier. Wide rather than tall, it filled two city blocks' worth of real estate. The top was frosted with a pyramidish structure of twisting, twining silver curlicues. It reflected as much light as a miniature sun, and even the walls gleamed with white marble and diamonds big as pickup trucks. The name was stretched across the front of the building in fourteen-foot-high fourteen karat letters. And beneath it was the simple slogan: LIVE FOREVER.
Toby mentally compared it to Dorster's shop, which was dingy on the outside, letting the merchandise speak for itself. RB & WB's was the polar opposite. Its exterior bludgeoned passersby with opulence. Toby was almost too starstruck to enter the place. Junella had to grab the gawking mouse by his upper arm and drag him forward. He was mesmerized like a deer in the headlights. He didn't even notice George fly up to perch on Piffle's arm and start rhapsodizing about his flight.
The front entrance had two massively intricate window displays. Everything inside was carved from precious gems. Two scenes of well-dressed Phobiopolans smiling and laughing casually as they fought off unspeakable nightmare beasts with ease. A hail of little onyx bullets hung suspended in the air on their way towards a crystal horror that looked like the result of mating buses with bulldogs. On the other side, a thousand ruby drops of blood sprayed from an otherworldly cephalopod that had fallen into a sawblade trap near an expedition's campfire. Toby looked around at all the glittering stones and tried to guess their weight and worth. But then he reconsidered that maybe all of this had just started out as imaginite. Maybe, if precious materials were actually worthless here, their only use was sheer ostentatiousness.
Inside, imaginite or not, the store's interior decorator had done a stunning job of making everything scream elegance through a megaphone. The floors were obsidian, polished into a perfect mirror sheen. Everything else was silk white, honey gold, or flowing silver. The architecture tried to be as curvaceous as its desired customers. There was a grand staircase to the upper levels that looked like a waterfall of milk suspended in time.
Toby also noticed that customers around him were dressed in equal grandeur. Several of them had looks of offense or disgust on their faces to see the ragtag batch of misfits that just walked in. A mutt in ripped jeans and a leather jacket, a hamsterfly in a sailor suit, a toy talking parrot, a mouse in his pajamas, and a skunk wearing nothing but a scarf. Toby felt somewhat ashamed of his shabbiness until he saw the gleaming confidence in Junella's grin. She didn't give a fraction of a shit how they looked. That helped Toby not care either.
The skunk sang out as she marched forward, "I want it all! I Want It All!! I WANT IT ALL!!! AND I WANT IT NOW!!!"
This invited even more stares. Toby shrunk down into his pajama collar, but kind of admired Junella's verve.
"Oh hey, there they are," Zinc pointed out.
Toby figured out for himself that 'they' must have been the eponymous Rippingbean and Woofingbutter. And when he laid eyes on them, his own group of weirdos seemed to stand out less.
The duo were dressed to the nines in suits that recalled both a ringmaster and a carnival barker. Both outfits blazed with metallic black, apple red, and shining bronze. Both had top hats. One of them was a short, agile-looking fox. Most of him was normal (and his tail was groomed so impeccably it sparkled like gold leaf), but his face was an unspeakable trainwreck. Whether by accident or birth defect, the vulpine's facial skin looked like it had been punched with an acid fist. The left side wasn't too badly marred, but the right was a tangle of drips and strips of skin, with one puffy, sightless eye barely staying put in its socket. The fox's partner, in contrast, was at least twice as tall. And either he was an invisible being supported by a crablike clockwork exoskeleton, or he was the exoskeleton. It reminded Toby of old photos of polio kids in leg braces, but an entire body's worth of them.
Rippingbean and Woofingbutter had placed themselves in the main foyer of the store, greeting and welcoming customers. The fox lit up with recognition when he spied the approaching group.
"Mish Juhneggha anf Miftuhh Vingk!" he cried happily. His deformity impaired his speech profoundly. "Izhh beng 'uite a 'uhile!"
"Yes it has," the exoskeleton said, his accent so crisp and deep it reminded Toby of George. And yes, this furson must have been suffering from transparency, because now Toby could see a monocle floating in the air where his right eye would have been.
"Jesus, Mister Woofingbutter, what happened to you since last time!?" Zinc burst out.
The tall one chuckled. "Nothing but a minor infirmity. I assure you, I am still a gorilla, even if I don't currently appear that way. I was hit with a faceful of invisibility venom on our last venture to Drapetomania. Stubborn stuff! I've been too busy to head to hospital, but for now it's been a treat spooking customers more than usual." He chuckled like a bass cello.
"Any progress on the face?" Junella asked the fox bluntly.
He took her paw in both of his and shook his head with an air of steadfast acceptance. "I'be neaghly gibben ufp. Ah 'ardwy nowdizh ihd eddymaur. Plus, 'uhen 'un ish cuhwsed by Zkhhfehhhish Derrrarrr 'uhzehwf, 'un duz tengd to wemaywn cuhwsed. Lukkuhwee, ish haggun't 'urt bizhneggs zho fauwr," he joked.
Toby thought he understood a portion of that, though mostly through inflection. Mr. Rippingbean's teeth moved in different directions unsettlingly when he spoke.
Woofingbutter asked, "If that was your golden tones I heard just a moment ago, then am I to infer that you're planning quite a large purchase this morning, Miss Junella?"
"You got it," she returned. "We're headin' up the mountain this time! Which means we're gonna need at least two of everything you got."
Toby could practically hear the gorilla's eyebrows going up. "Is that so? I take it then, you have come into considerable more wealth since your previous visit?"
She grinned bashfully and nodded. "No more scrapin' the bottom of my wallet or offering odd jobs this time."
"Guuud to 'eahr," Rippingbean said. "Fohchun shmilez un buhf uff uhzz."
Junella turned to Zinc. "Where to first, partner?"
He seemed surprised she'd give him first pick. She was in a good mood! "My first thought was auto parts, but let's save that for the grand finale. For now, how 'bout we scope some popguns?"
"Sounds satisfactory," she cantillated.
Woofingbutter had already wrangled a sterling silver shopping cart for her. "Here we are, my dear."
She nodded her thanks. "I intend to fill it to the top and ask for another."
Rippingbean clapped his little black paws. "Exxzhewennt! Hannpy shawwpengg!"
As they walked off, Toby poked Zinc's shoulder. "I'm a little surprised they know you by name."
The canine chuckled. "Yeah, we're not their typical type. But we came up short on a bill once and agreed to pay it off by helpin' 'em out with a bit of an after hours rat problem."
"Rats? Here?"
"Big as wheelbarrows. Don't tell nobody I said nuttin' about it. It's the kind of thing a place like this wants kept outta the papers. But we handled it quietly without breakin' too much merch and now we're all palsy-walsy. Reciprocity. Keep in mind, Clyde."
"Good idea."
***
Being an only child, Toby had never experienced the feeling of sitting and doing nothing while you watch someone else open their birthday presents. Now, he was getting a taste of that.
George on his shoulder, he followed passively behind Junella and Zinc as they plowed through the store with hungry eyes and sharkish grins. Their glee was nearly tangible. It was obvious how much they wanted to pounce on everything they laid eyes on, but they had just enough restraint to take a look-see pass through the departments before getting down to business.
Piffle's head was rotating back and forth, ogling all the shiny things. Toby's did too, but it was hard to 'Oooh' at things that mostly filled him with confusion. Here were endless products you could find in any military surplus or outdoorsman store, but a heck of a lot of them were stylized or Phobiopolis-tailored to the point of unrecognizability. Endless shelves gushed with shovels, knapsacks, pitons, boots, carabiners, hats, coats, gloves, rations, etcetera, etcetera. And the abundance of things to look at included other customers. Oh look, I've never seen a bluejay with stegosaurus spines before. How does his shirt stay on?
Junella and Zinc kept a running commentary on everything they considered buying, ostensibly to fill in Toby and Piffle, but mostly just to taste the words in their mouths. Their voices oozed with the giddiness of someone who has wanted something for so long they'd nearly given up hope of having it. "Boxes and boxes of bullets! Every caliber!" "Lookit that knife over there! How many points can you fit on a blade!?" "Those are some damn fancy boots." "Hey! It's As-Much-Rope-As-You-Need! I've been wanting one of those." "Firework flares! Holy shit! They got the ones that'll hit the Veil Of Tears!!" "Anti-transformation potions. Gonna need a buttload of thems..." "Maybe I'll get a cornucopia. See if I can empty it." "Any of you want your names embroidered on a bulletproof vest?" "Wouldja lookit that four-barreled shotgun? Mmmm, baby! Stop me from humpin' it!" "This thing has a Wotafa Technical Level of eight point NINE!?"
Something else Toby noticed as he followed behind the two blabberers was a constant theme of pairs. Each department was headed by a duo of some kind. Either they were out in front helping customers, or were featured in a photo portrait of them somewhere nearby. Two sisters headed the grocery department, and likewise two brothers handled climbing gear. Footwear was staffed by a hand-holding couple; an ostrich and a shark. The pattern was only semi-broken by the single feline who ran the automotive department. He'd been split up into a half-dozen small copies of himself, like what sometimes resulted from hitting a toon on the head with a big enough mallet. And over by the perfumes and nightmare musk oils, Toby saw a humongous wedding portrait of Rippingbean and Woofingbutter themselves. It made his eyebrows go up, as he'd thought they were just business partners. But he found nothing objectionable about the idea. The portrait had obviously been done by the same artist who'd made one for Mr. & Mrs. Xenoiko. Mr. Woofingbutter was quite a handsome gorilla when he was visible, and Mr. Rippingbean was smiling luminously despite his melted appearance. Toby only wondered if RB had to stand on a stepstool when they kissed.
Just past the camping stoves, Zinc and Junella ground to a halt in front of their holy grail. They'd reached the gun department, and right at the front was its shimmering centerpiece: a hand-cranked brass gatling gun. It rotated on its own podium, under its own spotlight, like the Best In Show. Cherrywood handle. Fourteen barrels. Hundreds of little rivets like candy dots. It looked like it had been plucked out of time from 200 years ago. Both the mutt and skunk stared rapturously, their faces reflected in the honey-colored metal.
"Do we dare, Juney?" Zinc breathed.
"You bet your fucking balls, partner. This was half the reason I came here."
Zinc turned towards Toby and Piffle, tail wagging and eyes misting up. "You don't even understand! This beauty's been here for years and no one's bought it. We keep thinking it's gonna be gone next time we come. The price tag's through the stratosphere-"
"And we hadda lose almost a whole bounty just to pay for that roof turret," Junella interrupted.
Piffle nodded, accepting the challenge. "Then I'll do my best to get it for you and make you happy!"
Zinc bit his lip and nearly burst into tears.
***
It was a wonder Zinc's tail didn't catch fire from air friction. With the big brass gun weighing down their cart so hard it bent the metal, he pranced about introducing it to its brethren. A shotgun here, a boltthrower there, a sprinkling of saturday night specials. Aside from the gatling gun, Zinc chose mostly cheaper models. He knew that on a trip through the badlands, one was likely to lose all one's gear in the heat of battle. Buying things with disposability in mind was the mark of a smart shopper. Though he'd carry that brass babymuffin on his back a hundred miles if need be.
Once they had enough guns to qualify for "up the wazoo" status, they decided to head back to automotive. They'd planned to save it for last, but Zinc was itchy with anticipation. He'd spotted something that looked like a nail-encrusted snowplow and was eager to get a better look at it.
Along the way, Toby noticed a large bin full of old ratty, dingy stuffed animals. They looked incredibly out of place among the store's refined stock. He was even more surprised to see Junella start piling handfuls of them in the cart. Piffle had heard about this though. Plushies, she explained, were nightmare repellent. But only ones that had actually been used and loved and filled up with a child's pure faith. People scoured the garbage heaps to find ones containing the right energy. Even the deadliest nightmares would shriek and hiss in pain in their presence. Junella said she was going to string a bunch all around the car to keep undesirables from poking their noses too close.
Sensing that Zinc and Junella would be quite a while looking at car stuff, Piffle got an idea. "Do you mind if we split up? I saw they've got a tailor here and I thought I'd take Toby on over and get him some new duds." She nudged him with her elbow. "Betcher getting' sick of having to wear those jamjams all the time, huh?"
"Actually, yeah." He looked down at the fabric. It was self-cleaning and self-repairing, but not too insulating. And his feet were getting tired of being bare all the time.
"Sounds good," Zinc said, looking up from a display of headlights that could be focused into a laser point to burn enemies alive. "We're gonna be here for hours. You'll probably finish up before we do."
Toby nodded. "Allright then. C'mon, George! Maybe we can get you a beak-warmer," he kidded.
But before George could register disdain at that notion, Junella reached out and grabbed the parrot off the mouse's shoulder. "My word!"
"Nuh-uh-uh," she singsonged. "I've got a crazy stupid idea in mind. I'll need him for some measurements."
Both Toby and George looked worried at this. Junella's smile was devious.
"Should I be afraid?" George asked.
She petted the little tin birdie's head. "Oh, I ain't gonna hurtcha. Just maybe... stretch you out a little." She flashed a grin. "You'll see. Zinc's gonna flip when I tell him."
"I suppose anything's better than being a bird," George said. "And I trust enough in my own indestructibility to know you can't mangle me too badly."
Slightly unsure of that, Toby waved goodbye as Piffle dragged him off.
***
He'd passed by the custom clothing department before but didn't recognize it as such. In fact, at the time he'd thought it was some kind of bulk candy shop.
Piffle tugged Toby to a corner of the store where an incredible amount of glass tubes hung from the ceiling; each one large enough to house a furson, each full up with a different liquefied color. Hoses dangled below like teats. 'Inks? Dyes?' Toby guessed. Below was a small garden of shrub-shaped accessory racks: hats, scarves, gloves, etc.. The department's center was a well-lit wooden stage, oval, with a blue curtain in the back. Also a pair of tall, gleaming gasoline-pump-ish machines at either edge.
Piffle became entranced by hats, giving Toby time for a closer look at the tubes. To his bewilderment, he realized they weren't all solid colors inside, but patterns too. Stripes. Dots. Plaids! This was too cartoonish to be believed.
Before he could ask Piffle what they were, two identically-dressed minks came prancing by, hand in hand. Brown of fur and sleek as maple syrup. When they saw they had two customers, they bolted forward and began apologizing profusely. Toby and Piffle were beset by a fluttering swarm of hands all shaking their own and patting their shoulders.
"A thousand pardons, Madame and Monsieur," the one on the left said. "Simply no excuse!"
The one on the right nodded. "We were just on break. If we'd had any idea-"
"ANY idea!"
"-that we had waiting customers, we'd have hurried back as soon as impossible!"
They were dressed so similarly, it took Toby a moment to realize one was male and the other female. Their outfits could be described as cyberpunk chic. Work overalls from ankles to ribcage, but in a pearlescent blue fabric that nearly glowed. Royal purple tops with the sleeves rolled up. Golden goggles with red glass lenses. The pair's voices were nearly identical, and each one's underwaterlike movements tended to be mirrored by the other at any given time.
Together they hugged and flourished with their hands towards the sign above their department.
"If you hadn't read already, we are Kay Burdock-" said the male.
"-and Kaye Burdock," said the female.
"Tailors extraordinaire!!" they completed the introduction in perfect synchronicity, with a clap at the end.
Piffle was absolutely delighted with these two. They had such high energy and presence, she wondered if they were about to leap into an acrobatics routine.
Instead, with many back-pats, the mink duo began herding their customers towards the stage. "Now if you're here, that heavily suggests you're in the market for some new accouterments," Kaye said.
"And I can't blame you," Kay added, feeling Toby's pajama fabric with a withering wince. "No offense intended."
"None taken," Toby said. "I hadn't realized till now how much I want out of these. They're all I've worn since I've been here."
Appropriate gasps of horror from the two minks.
Piffle giggled. "And I'm thinking about getting some new glad rags m'self. We're on an adventure!"
"Oh? Holiday or expedition?" Kaye inquired.
"Anasarca," Piffle replied. "We're gonna try to get my friend here home."
Eyebrows were raised. "Indeed!" Kaye exclaimed. "Then if we do say so, nothing but the very best will do. You have my word-"
"-OUR word."
"-that you're in exceptionally good hands. Now young miss, do you have any particulars in mind?"
Piffle swiveled her foot back and forth. "Naw. Heck, the idea just came to me a minute ago. I'm gonna need a while to think up ideas. And anyway, this is mostly for Toby. Help him first."
With a double nod, the two minks turned to the mouse. Kaye reached out a paw to encourage him up onto the oval stage. Toby stepped carefully around the footlights. The wooden boards creaked as his paw made contact. Kay swished the blue curtain closed to give them some privacy from the other customers.
A dainty paw landed like a feather on his shoulder. "Now then, shall we get undressed?" Kaye suggested.
Toby turned pink. "Um... Could we not? Is that a possibility?"
Kay chuckled. "Nonsense! If it's embarrassment you're feeling, banish it. We've seen every type of todger and taco from here to Teratoma."
Kaye nodded. "And we need to take a gander at the bare canvas to know how best to paint it."
Deeply cringing, Toby tried to muster up his courage for this, reminding himself of the many, many times he'd gotten naked for doctor's visits before. But a doctor was different. Here he was in the middle of a bustling department store. On stage, even! What if someone came by and poked their head through the curtain?
He felt like he could do it on one condition. "Allright, I guess. But not in front of Piffle." He gave her an apologetic look. "Sorry, but, well..."
She snickered and bounced over to hug him. "Pish tosh! Nothing to worry about. I understand if you're skittish."
"And we have a comfortable waiting area just over here," Kaye said with a swish of her hand. She pulled back the curtain on the far side of the stage to reveal some bulbous armchairs, a table full of magazines, and a TV set.
"Neat!" Piffle toddled over and took Kaye's hand. "Um, I just wanted to say, I kinda envy you two. I wish I'd had siblings growing up. I was an only child."
"Oh, we're not twins," Kay replied, as if he'd made the correction a thousand times before. "Dissociative identity disorder. When I was little my mother used to drive herself up the wall trying to get me to stop talking to my "imaginary" sister."
"They locked him up twice for it!" Kaye concurred.
Kay gave her a 'the customers don't need to know that' look.
She put a hand to her mouth. "Pardon!"
Piffle giggled.
Kaye sighed. "But yes, you can't know how happy we were when this place finally gave me my own body at last!"
"It's a queasy sensation," Kay said thoughtfully, "to find yourself suddenly in a strange land, terrified and confused, yet at the same time overwhelmed with joy at finally being able to hug someone you've known all your life."
Piffle's expression showed absolute fascination, a desire to hear more, and then the realization that Toby couldn't strip until she was out of sight. "That's wonderful for both of you! I'm really glad to hear it! Anyway, do a good job on Toby! Impress me!" she said, and ducked behind the curtain. (She promised herself to only peek once.)
"We will!"
"It's our specialty!"
As one, the pair turned to face Toby. "Off with those dull things!" Kay playfully commanded.
"Comfy as I'm sure they are, they're no clothes for danger," Kaye concurred.
Sensing the mouse's reluctance, the minks began unbuttoning his top. Toby squeaked and swatted their hands away, then shakily finished the job. He folded his shirt and pants neatly and placed his pouch and bracers carefully on top. When it was over and he was standing there in nothing but fur, he curled his tail around to cover as much of his unmentionables as possible.
The minks tittered at his bashfulness and began to circle. They looked him up and down, taking his measurements with practiced eyes. "Function before fashion," Kay said with a finger resting on his lips. "Tell me, what sort of things do you think you might get up to on the long road to our equivalent Emerald City? Combat? Fisticuffs? Hunting?"
Toby almost laughed. "None of those, hopefully! I admit it, I'm a puffball. I plan on running and hiding as much as I can get away with."
"I admire your honesty," Kaye said with an approving nod. "You would not believe the amount of customers we have who come in all filled with bluster and bravado, demanding death-proof suits that we know will never see a scratch."
Kay snarled agreement. "One prefers to see one's work fulfilling its destiny." To his other half he said, "Lightweight, emphasizing maneuverability. Not too flashy-"
"-but of course we wouldn't be us without giving it at least some."
"Oh, obviously," he said, as if that was a given. "Colors, young man?"
Toby thought for a second. "Um... I like blue. Something like your overalls would be nice."
"Terrorbunny wool," Kaye suggested to her counterpart.
Kay immediately concurred. "I'm thinking vest and shorts would suit him."
"Wouldn't I get cold up in the mountains?" Toby asked.
"You'll see!!" they sang out simultaneously, and laughed. Leaving Toby alone and in the buff, they suddenly dashed to the two large machines at the stage's perimeter. Like a pair of pianists, they began keying in a flurry of commands. Toby heard a whirr from above, and looked up to see big machines in the ceiling circling through dozens of those big glass tubes, finally selecting two blue ones and notching them into place above Kay & Kaye's workstations.
From either side the minks came at him holding nozzles that looked exactly like airbrushing guns. The minks pulled their goggles down and tapped the sides to change the colored lenses.
"Now, we're going to need you to stand spread-eagle and keep perfectly still while we work," Kaye requested.
Toby tried to take his tail away, but his nervousness just made him clench up harder.
"Need some help?" she asked.
Bashfully, he nodded.
Her expression assured him his reluctance was nothing out of the ordinary. She glanced at Kay, who reached into his pocket and touched a small device to Toby's neck.
"YEEK!!" It was not painful, but it was as cold as an ice cube! Toby's arms, legs and tail shot straight out and stuck there. He was a mannequin from the neck down. "How the heck-!?"
Kay held it up: a tiny, silver, remote-shaped object. "From our electronics department. No good for nightmare constructs, else they'd sell like hotcakes, but just dandy for use on muggers."
Toby's mild annoyance at having it used on him vanished as he realized how handy owning one might be. "How long does it last?"
"Only a few minutes. Long enough for us to do our work," Kaye reassured.
With that, the pair went into action. Kaye tapped a panel on the floor and some unseen mechanism hovered the mouse up a few feet so he was closer to eye level and they could rotate him as needed. Toby felt like he was floating on top of a magnet.
Moving in time to the soft music coming through the P.A. above, the minks shook their nozzles, then began to spraypaint Toby blue. Except, to his amazement, it wasn't paint. Somehow, those glass tubes were filled with fluidized fabric! The nozzles were airbrushes. The minks were drawing new clothes right onto him! "Wow!!" Both their tails wiggled at hearing his appreciation.
They hummed to themselves as they sketched in the lines of his new outfit: Kay doing the vest, Kaye taking the shorts. "Lots of pockets, inside and out," Kay said.
"Always a good idea," Kaye concurred.
Toby found he was rather glad for the paralyzing ray, since he would have been fidgeting enough to cause an earthquake with all the teensy touches from their nimble little fingers. Especially around his tail! It was a huge effort to keep from 'Eep!'ing every few seconds.
"Remaining barefoot, my dear?" Kaye asked him.
"Uh, n-no," Toby gasped out, trying not to show how ticklish he was. "I'm sure along the way there'll be plenty of stuff I don't want to step in."
"Sensible," they said simultaneously.
"What kind of footwear are we thinking, Demi?" Kaye inquired.
"Moccasins, definitely."
"With this ensemble? Sandals, all the way!"
"They'll fall off! You just said 'function over fashion' a moment ago!"
Toby noticed they were inching closer and their volume was going up.
"Gladiator style, you nitwit! With calf straps!"
"They're still not as good for running as moccasins!"
"Sandals, damn it!"
"Moccasins!"
"SANDALS!"
"MOCCASINS!!"
The pair of them pointed their airbrush guns at each other's temples and bared their teeth.
There was a moment of excruciating tension where Toby wondered if they'd both murder each other as simultaneously as they did everything else.
Then both of them blinked and their eyes popped open in epiphany.
"Roman-styled sandals with moccasin soles!!" they exulted.
Their feud ended instantly as they sprang to their machines and began typing up deerskin and leather. A moment later Toby was gnawing the inside of his lip to keep from screaming with laughter as they tickled his feet without mercy. He couldn't quite see what they were doing, but their nozzles were fizzing and pooting up a storm.
After that ordeal, they went back to the vest and shorts for finishing touches: sewing on pockets, adding belt loops for his weapons pouch, plus a few purely fashionable flourishes. Kaye had the idea of adding two vertical lemon-yellow stripes over Toby's shoulders. Toby thought it was a fantastic touch. Just a bit superhero-y.
As he was starting to feel a bit of wiggle in his limbs again, Kaye re-tapped the floor panel to set him back down on his feet. His new sandals felt amazing, like walking on fuzzy butter. Kaye brought over what looked like a hairdryer and pointed it at his vest. "Observe."
She turned it on and Toby felt a beam of focused coldness chill him. The machine did the exact opposite of a hair dryer! But just as the shivers were starting, his vest fluffed up in that spot. It went from a smooth softness, not unlike his pajamas, to the mass and feel of a heavy sweater. "How does it do that?"
"Terrorbunny wool," Kay said. "Amazing stuff. They're rotten little nightmares. Terrified of you if there's only one of them, but in packs they puff up and attack like piranhas. Their fur has a fantastic quality of condensing and expanding."
Toby ran his fingers over the spot where the fur was returning to normal density. "Seems like a lot of stuff is made from nightmares here. Kinda like, 'If life gives you lemons...'."
"...Make everything!" Kaye agreed.
The minks picked up Toby's pouch and bracers and repositioned them for him. Kay cupped his hand to his mouth and shouted towards the back curtain, "Your companion has finished his transfigurement!"
"Not quite," Kaye reminded him.
"Ooh yes, Demi," Kay remembered, and they both leaned in close to sign their latest artwork with a double 'KB', each letter mirrored back to back by the other.
Piffle popped out and squealed at seeing her friend's new look. "Oh, Toby!! You're the tops in that! The camel's pajamas!"
He blushed a bit, but from his reflection in the various mirrors set up around the stage, he did have to agree with her. His new outfit was a deep, gem-like blue. Cargo shorts and a sleeveless, open vest. The yellow stripes on his shoulders color-balanced the tan, crisscross-strapped sandals on his feet. Overall, his new duds looked like a fusion between the present day and a few centuries prior. And he looked faster now. Like a speedy little courier.
Piffle buzzed around him, mumbling compliments and brushing her fingers over the fabric. Toby blushed more. The Burdocks were always happy to see their work being appreciated, but also eager to get back to creating more. "Your turn now, dear buggy beauty," Kay said, taking Piffle's hand. Both of them giggled.
"Thank you so much," Toby said to K&K as he walked towards the back.
"You're very welcome!" said Kaye.
"Tips are always appreciated!" said Kay.
"Let me know how the trial ended!" said Piffle.
Toby had no idea what she meant by that. He ducked behind the blue curtain and plopped into one of the big armchairs.
***
The TV was on. Toby got settled, then looked up to see a young vixen reporting live from elsewhere in the city. She had a grey dress with big shoulders. Everything about her expression, mannerisms, and speech suggested she was super unhappy about having been de-aged by her not-very-long-ago arrival in Phobiopolis, and was trying very hard to be taken seriously as an adult despite looking nine-ish.
"-apprehended just a moment ago, which will hopefully bring relief to Bigwheel Fifteen's many business owners. I'm Jamais Dreamsicle with your Channel 909 Mid-Morning Minute. Tune in tonight at 6 for Jeff's recipes, evening traffic, and our special report on the pesticulo virus: why it's difficult to catch, difficult to spread, and altogether not something most of us have to worry about."
Toby blinked. He'd sat in bed and watched lots of local news back in his other life, and usually their reports on scary new diseases tended to have the opposite message.
After Jamais, there was a handful of commercials. Surprisingly normal stuff for a city like Ectopia Cordis. A local hang-glider dealership, a chicken restaurant, a pain pill, a movie trailer.
'A movie? Huh. I haven't been to a theater in years. That might be something interesting to do later if we have time.'
Then a great big logo slammed onto the screen: LUXY'S COURT.
'So that's what Piffle meant.'
The camera swung in across a hooting, bouncing audience that looked more like the crowd at a rock concert than a trial. Standing room only. They were waving lighters and toe tags back and forth, screaming when the camera lens passed overhead.
After this quick swoop, the focus went to a pear-shaped hype man in a black suit with shades, daggers piercing both lenses (Toby hoped that was a special effect). The prairie dog was clutching his microphone like it was his life. "ALLLRIIIIGHT! We're BACKladiesandgentlemen! Back with rrrround TWO of this heinous, shamous, intravenous trial! An unspeakable crime has been committed here, folks. Or has it? That IS the question our main man is here to determine!
"You've heard testimony from our plaintiff-" The camera panned up to the courtroom itself: an actual basketball court retrofitted with desks and podiums and such. There was a box of onlookers who were behaving themselves much better than the screaming flock below. Stationed around the room were several curvy plastic mannequins with TV sets for heads. They creeped Toby out and he had no idea what they were there for. On each side of the midcourt line were two tables. Sitting on one side was the plaintiff, an extremely-nervous rabbit woman. She looked relatively normal for Phobiopolis standards, besides a third ear and a somewhat rattish muzzle. She also looked on the verge of a nervous collapse.
"Now it's time for the defendant to have his say!" the hype man continued, and the camera switched to the other table. Seated there was a rather large buffalo in a guardsman-type uniform, with metal armor that somehow simultaneously appeared to be cloth. As opposed to the rabbit woman, he looked supremely confident and unconcerned, arms crossed over his barrel chest.
"Take it away, Luxy! Court is back in SESSHAOWN!!!" the prairie dog exploded.
From behind the judge's podium, Luxy Bleeder rotated into view, swinging on one foot like a door hinge.
To say he was not dressed like a typical judge would be an understatement. The charismatic 'coon was sporting tight black jeans with silver rivets, a white t-shirt so full of holes it looked like swiss cheese, and one sock. He chewed on the unlit cigarette between his lips before popping it in his mouth and swallowing.
Toby's eyes were glued to the raccoon's nonchalant, undulating, reptilian walk. Toby also wondered, if this guy was the mayor, how did he find time to both run the city and a courtroom?
Luxy ambled over to the defendant's table. It was impossible to tell from his expression whether he was deep in thought or as vacant as the empty air. He sat on the edge of the hardwood and tipped his head upside-downedly towards the buffalo.
His slender muzzle opened and, "Hi, cuz," fell out.
"Good morning, sir," came the prompt reply.
Luxy's tone was lazily unconcerned. Possibly stoned. "For the record, your name is Gibraltar E. Powell, kerrect?"
"F. Powell, sir," the buffalo immediately corrected. "F for Fredric."
Luxy nodded absently. He repositioned himself on the table: braced upright with both hands. "And you've been with the citywatch for... oh hell... seven years?"
"SevenTEEN!" came the proud correction.
"Thassright, thassright. All these details, y'know? Like flying bugs around my cereal. Anyway! You're here because SHE-" Luxy stabbed a finger in the general direction of the plaintiff, who visibly startled, "-has made the accusation that on the evening of the 26th of somedamnmonth, after arresting her under false pretenses, you did willingly and quite rudely rape the living shit out of her in an un-monitored area of your police precinct. Is any of this true?"
The onlookers behind them seemed uncomfortable at Luxy's blunt language. Toby felt the same.
Mr. Powell smiled politely, completely unruffled. "Not a word of it. As I have stated before and continue to state, our department has not once had dealings with Mrs. Nevarez. Otherwise, there would be paperwork showing otherwise. I personally saw to turning over all relevant documents, and they clearly show no record of her name, photo, anything of the sort."
"Mmmyes," Luxy said, looking up at the ceiling. "I had my crew look through those. So you're saying your department hasn't had any dealings with her. How about you? Personally-like? Ever encountered Mrs. Nevarez? Met her on the street? Looked up her skirt?"
"Nothing of the sort!" Gibraltar said sternly. "Right here in this room is the first time I've laid eyes on her."
"Good to hear. And of course, I can have your assurance that, as a proud member of this city's elite protectors for seven yea-"
"Seventeen."
Luxy smiled patiently. "Seventeen, yes. -that you have never engaged in such morally horrific acts as the plaintiff is accusing you of?"
The buffalo actually laughed. "My complete assurance, sir. We did have a woman in that night who looked a bit like her. But without the, uh..." He mimed a third ear over his head.
Luxy nodded, understanding.
"Brought in on suspicion of breaking and entering. But we cleared her quick enough and sent her home. Not the same footprint as our suspect's."
"Too big or too small?" Luxy interjected.
"Too big, actually."
"Fas-cin-a-ting," the raccoon drawled. He leaned back until he was actually lying down across the table. He tucked his arms behind his head to rest his neck on. "Anyway, yes, I seem to remember that was in your records as well. Now, it would please the court if you wouldn't mind speculating on why, if what Mrs. Nevarez claims is untrue, she would have made such a scurrilous accusation?"
At the edge of the frame, the rabbit woman could be seen to visibly sob.
Toby frowned. Wasn't that hearsay, or something like that? Why was no one objecting? It was then that he realized there were no lawyers in the court. No jury either. There was a growing tension in his belly as he realized the entire case was in the hands of this one reclining raccoon.
Gibraltar shrugged and snorted. "Can't say. People lie about all sorts of things. I forgive her, I mean, since I can't think of any reason why it'd be personal. Hell, maybe she's trying to manipulate her boyfriend. Or get attention. Who knows?"
Luxy nodded. "True, true." His eyes and teeth seemed to flash. "Good god! Don't you just love that word, scurrilous? Scurrilous! Scurrrrrrilous..." He played with it in his mouth like a kitten with a ball of yarn.
The rest of the court's attendees had gone silent. There was an unpleasant tension in the room. A silence that was growing louder.
Like a jack-in-the-box, Luxy suddenly sprung himself vertical, pointing in the air. "I've seen this before, you know! Oh, sure, you saw me talk to her gently just a moment ago, and she cried in all the right places. But I could tell. You can smell a liar, can't you? Smell it on their breath? On the way they twitch at certain words?"
The buffalo nodded. "Absolutely, sir!"
Luxy began circling the defendant's table. "It boils yer blood, don'it? To think of a man who's selflessly devoted seventeen- I remembered this time- years to this city's welfare, risking his life for the greater good, and his reward for it is this!? To be dragged before me under false charges, his good name dunked in the dirt by a scurrilous accusation!? There's that word again!!"
Gibraltar nodded so hard his head looked like it might fall off.
Luxy's tone was rising in volume and intensity. "It boggles the mind and sickens the guts! No good deed goes unpunished, eh? Here's a man just trying to do his job in this thankless city when this, this, this DISSIMULATOR, this PREVARICATOR, jumbles up his life with her see-through sob story!!"
Gibraltar's eyes were shining with adulation for his commander in chief.
Mrs. Nevarez's eyes reflected horrified despair.
Luxy swung around and poured himself onto the buffalo's shoulder, putting an arm around him and poking his finger at the man's lapel to emphasize his syllables. "You see it all the time, don't you? Lies passing through those ruby lips? Lies. And why? We both know why, don't we? To cover up missssssdeeeeds. Scandals. Their own wanton ways. Why else would they make up such salacious stories, with such dark details? It comes from within their own imaginations!"
Toby's jaw was hanging open. 'He's a monster...' was all he could think.
Gibraltar's expression one of stunned camaraderie. "You know!" he breathed. "You know too!"
A reassuring pat-pat on the head. "I do indeed. Now let me tell you a far more realistic story of that night's events, shall I? Mrs. Whatshername is dissatisfied at home. Her partner's not ful-FILL-ing her needs, if you acquire my drift. More is what she needs. So, whether then or later, she acquires the knowledge that another certain furson has been detained in your department that selfsame night. Oho, an alibi begins to form! She can go whoring herself out around town and have the big mean copper to blame for it in the morning!"
Several gasps from the onlookers. The camera briefly showed Mrs. Nevarez with her face in her hands, weeping.
Teeth gleaming, Luxy went on, his every word oozing like oil from his lips. "She wants some no-strings fun, isn't that right? So she heads out on the prowl. Face all painted up, body poured into a little red dress-"
"A white one, actually."
"Right, thanks. A little white dress. And she goes down to the lower districts, the shady places, searching out that big hot sausage that will provide what her boyfriend cannot. The little vamp GETS her heart's desire that night. And the next day, there she is on my doorstep, pouring on the crocodile tears, and fabricating an elaborate web about her harassment at the hands of a protector-turned-menace. A citywatch guard who bent her over a table in a bare-bulbed room and took whatever he wanted from her. A citywatch guard who has in reality never seen her before in his life, and therefore could not possibly know the color of the dress she was wearing."
Luxy finished, and the light in Gibraltar's eyes died.
Toby's jaw dropped.
Luxy Bleeder metamorphosed. He peeled himself off Mr. Powell's shoulders and stiffly distanced himself to the front of the table. He seemed to grow in height until he loomed down over the defendant, the eyes in his dark fur mask glowing white with hatred. "Thank you so, so kindly, for being so godawfully stupid," he whispered.
The buffalo's mouth fell open to speak.
Luxy's hand shot out to shut it. In his paw was an open safety pin, the sharp part pushing up into the man's bottom lip.
"Need I button this up for you?"
Mr. Powell's eyes said, 'No, no, no!!'
The raccoon's new demeanor could not have been colder. It could have frozen lava. "I think you've said enough for now. I think it's time to listen. How you've lasted seventeen years, I can't fathom. I'd like to hope you started clean and became corrupted over the years, because the thought of a parasite like you hiding amongst the protectors of my city makes me sick enough to vomit down your collar. Rest assured though, my behind-the-scenes crew is investigating every case you've ever handled, every form you've ever filed, every toilet you've ever shat in. For the sake of your soul, you had better hope this is your first offense."
Luxy looked up. "Girls! Assistance please?"
The mannequins came to life. Moving fast and slick, two of the TV-headed artificial women appeared on either side of Mr. Powell and held him in place. Two thin fiberglass hands clamped over his mouth. They must have possessed incredible strength, because it looked like they required barely any effort to keep the burly buffalo planted in his seat and silent despite his thrashing.
"My crew investigated your precinct. We found the unmonitored room. That alone is a very big no-no, because cameras keep cops honest. Your sergeant will be hearing words from me very soon. But, as per this case, that evidence alone was not enough to find you guilty. I needed certainty. I needed to hear it from your own lllllips. And yes, I remember you well. I remember everything. I remember your annoying little habit of butting in to offer corrections. 'Can I use that?' I thought to myself. 'Yes, yes, I believe I can.'"
A thin, venomous smile creeped across Luxy's lips. "I pronounce you guilty, you vermin. You cannot possibly know how much I want to kill you, Mr. Gibraltar E. Powell. But that's too good for you. Insteaddies, I think about two hundred days in The Pipe will do you a world of good."
At the mention of The Pipe, the buffalo's struggles increased dramatically. His scream was loud enough to make it past the mannequins' hands, and he kicked the chair and table nearly to pieces trying to make a break for it. But it made no difference. Their grip on him might as well have been a steel shackle.
"Take him away, my lovelies!" Luxy commanded them. Their faces changed from static to little cartoon hearts at being given orders from their master. They lifted the squirming, shrieking buffalo up with ease and began walking, steps perfectly synchronized, towards the edge of the court.
In Gibraltar's eyes, Toby saw a bottomless depth of terror. The mouse had no idea what in the hell The Pipe was, but knew he never, ever wanted to find out.
Luxy grinned towards his onlookers and took a moment to bask in the cheers, applause and general screaming that had erupted after the verdict. His expression said, 'Did you really think I'd gone off the deep end like that? Tut tut!'
He sashayed over to the plaintiff's table. Mrs. Nevarez looked shaken to the core. "You're free to go home now, of course. Counseling will be made freely available at your immediate request. The court, myself, and the entire city of Ectopia Cordis thanks you for doing your civic duty and helping to remove that pustulent scab from our streets."
She reached out a trembling hand to very weakly shake his offered paw. Her eyes were glued to the empty defendant's chair. "You didn't have to say such mean things about me."
Luxy went rigid. His expression flattened. His smile fell.
Mrs. Nevarez looked up at him, suddenly terrified at having offended the second most powerful man in all Phobiopolis.
Luxy's mouth opened, but he couldn't find words to speak. He gesticulated wildly, trying to find a way to convey, 'Did you not SEE what I just did there!?' Until finally he rolled his eyes, said, "Talk about ungrateful!" and stamped off in a minor tantrum.
Toby had absolutely no idea how to feel about this man now. Obviously crazy, but also perhaps a genius.
Then, on his way out of the courtroom, Luxy suddenly stopped. The camera was to his back. The slender raccoon put a finger to his muzzle in a moment's thought before deciding.
The prairie dog hype man was just leaning into his mic and taking a deep breath to announce court adjourned when Luxy came whooshing back into the room. Several people who were on the verge of getting up out of their seats to go home or to the bathroom paused. Mrs. Nevarez, who was already at the exit door, had a gut feeling that she didn't want to be here for whatever was coming next, and bolted.
Four of the TV-headed plastic girls came over to stand beside their boss as he positioned himself in the center of the room, addressing the gallery. A mad grin was on Luxy's muzzle.
"Changed my mind, everybody!"
He tapped his wrist. "In two minutes I gotta be somewhere else. Until then, anyone who manages to kill me gets a million Luxybux! En garde!"
There was a fraction of a moment of bewilderment at this proclamation, which Luxy took full advantage of.
His wiry arms reached up and back to scoop off the heads of his two closest assistants. TV sets popped off shapely necks, revealing the hilts of twin daggers. In a perfect bowling motion, Luxy swung the two televisions in an arc and hurled them towards the gallery. Their screens changed to an image which Toby only saw for a heartbeat: a bouquet of hand grenades.
The explosion was extraordinary.
Splinters of wooden banisters and benches flew in a thousand different directions, tearing through flesh with the ease of popping soap bubbles. Dust and screams choked the air.
Luxy giggled. His eyes bulged with joy at the destruction: a boy at play. Without looking back, he plucked the daggers from his assistants' throats and brought them down in a flawless mirrored motion, into the upper thighs of the two other mannequins. The knives caused each leg to crack open. As each TV-girl began to fall sideways, Luxy deftly tucked the daggers into his belt and whipped his hands back out to pluck, like a magician's trick, two pump-action shotguns from the hollows inside each mannequin's leg. All of this took mere seconds. It took only the smallest fragment of time longer for Luxy to swing both guns out in an arc and blast away the handful of gallery survivors who'd managed to start scrambling towards him.
The images flickered over Toby's unbelieving albino eyes. Luxy still hadn't moved a step from the center of the room and had killed dozens in less time than it takes most people to yawn. The hype man was leaping up and down, jabbering into his microphone, giving a frenetic play-by-play of events, but Toby heard none of it. He was fixated on seeing.
The expression on Luxy Bleeder's face was unfathomable. A kind of warm, cheerful glow. Blood and shrapnel surrounded him, and he looked like he was decorating a Christmas tree. His delight only grew when he saw the tidal wave of audience members trying to claw their way up onto the courtroom floor. Laughing merrily, the raccoon peppered their grasping hands with buckshot, sending them screaming to the pit below.
In the brief moment before the crowd was upon him, Luxy handed the guns to his two standing assistants and snapped off one's free arm. He waited until just the right moment, then swung it like a major leaguer at the skull of the closest audience member, who was running full-tilt at him with claws extended. The man's forehead came off in a hockey-puck-like chunk and sailed over the crowd. Luxy pivoted and his next swing collapsed someone's eye socket.
The crowd of hundreds swarmed towards him and Luxy began to have fun. He moved with a fluid grace, seeming to exist in slow motion. As if he were listening to a ballet on headphones, drowning out everything else. His hands were like darting, swooping birds. Every move was improvised on the spot and yet so perfect it appeared choreographed. He used everything as a weapon. Everything. Buckshot tore away dozens of faces and the rifles themselves were employed as bludgeons just as many times. Luxy pirouetted with his knives, slicing through fingers like water. At every spare moment, he dismantled his assistants some more, revealing a mind-boggling array of hardware hidden inside each one. Most effective of all his weapons though were the ones the crowd had brought. Every bullet meant for him went into someone else. Every knife jab was diverted or ducked under, then utilized to open another's pelt. Luxy never moved more than a few feet from his original spot. Most times his feet stayed planted and he simply gyrated his arms and torso to wherever they needed to be. This man was a maestro of murder. A grandmaster. This was not magic he was performing, it was a skill honed from ungodly amounts of practice.
The calm, happy smile on his face persisted as he spilled gallons of blood and stopped countless hearts. It was a look of pure, joyful satisfaction, from someone who is doing what they were born to do, and seeing it appreciated.
But the most surreal element of it all was how the faces of the crowd mirrored his. Sure, some of them looked maddened with rage. But most were grinning the same grin as Luxy. This was not a massacre, it was sport. A friendly competition. They knew they had no hope against their beloved town mayor, but they tried anyway. They gave it their all. And they fell in squirming heaps at his feet with awe and laughter etched onto their dead faces.
Luxy Bleeder, king of Ectopia Cordis, loved his citizens. This was him showing his love. A woman in the horde drew a socket wrench from her purse, intending to cleave his skull down the middle. He limboed beneath it, caught her arm like a dance partner, and embedded the wrench in the sinus cavities of the fellow with the revolver behind him. That man's hand constricted, sending a bullet into the woman's intestines. She was almost-instantly trampled to a stain by the feet of the crowd. Her last thoughts (for the moment) were: 'I've never been so close to him before!'
It took Toby a few moments to realize that a mink was jostling his shoulder, trying to tell him that Piffle's outfit was finished.
*****