Boris peeks out of the dark, abandoned barn, far away from the city.
He got lucky. He made it out.
After Boris went berserk and beat several officers of the law to death, Calvin subdued him. Boris was quickly put on trial.
The evidence from the drones made for an open-and-shut trial. Boris was sentenced to life in prison.
A day or two later, on his way to his new home, the prison bus crashed. In the confusion, Boris escaped.
He spent the rest of the week on the move. Now he’s spending the night here, in this old barn.
Which, by coincidence, happens to be the same barn James Oldman practiced his craft in.
The big idiot doesn’t know the place is warded. Deston tipped Victor off the moment Boris crossed the boundary.
The only reason, by the way, that the wards didn’t outright repel Boris, is that he bears no ill will towards the Oldmans.
Right now, the only thing on his mind is getting out of the country.
Like that’ll save him.
Victor steps out of a dark corner.
“Boris Bortsov. Don’t you fucking move.”
Victor grabs Boris with one hand. Even Boris can’t break Victor’s death grip.
“Пошел ты, гребаный пес!”
“Don’t call me a fucking dog again. Oh yes, I speak Russian too. And I know about everything you did in the old country, Boris. I know about your war crimes.”
“Bullshit. I don’t believe you.”
“Ah, I thought the whole me Boris, me big tough stupid guy thing was just an act. Remember the house, Boris? Remember the family that was still inside, when you burned the place down? And I know about the other house, too. I know about the man you shot, his wife, who you raped, and their kids, who you forced to watch when you did the first two.”
“…Please just take me to prison.”
“If you wanted to go to prison, you should have stayed on the damn bus. You ran, so instead, you get me. I gave you the same chance I gave your idiot friends, and all three of you wasted it. Oh yes, you’ll be seeing the other two stooges soon. Say hi to those idiots for me.”
blip
The next day, Valerie walks into the saferoom.
Ms. Pac-Man and Dig-Dug have accepted their temporary roommate, even though Julius is not as good at video games as they are.
Ms. Pac-Man also loves the pretty red bow her mummah found for her.
Poor Julius can’t make it past the first level of Ms. Pac-Man.
But he is almost ready to return to his family, so he’ll be leaving soon. He was thrilled when he saw that his legs were back. And that his anus didn’t hurt anymore.
The GameFluff, the world’s first video game console designed for fluffies, is almost ready for launch. It’ll come with a selection of built-in games, with more games coming later. It uses cartridges, because those are safer for fluffies to handle.
Calvin squealed like a schoolgirl again when Valerie told him he was getting one for free.
Some are new games, designed by Faucheuse Games, Faucheuse Electronics’ video game division, specifically designed for fluffies.
Faucheuse Games used to be known as Sega.
Ms. Pac-Man and Dig-Dug got to playtest some of these games.
Others are games licenced out from other companies, particularly classic arcade games. Their simplistic gameplay is perfect for fluffies.
Namco-Bandai immediately agreed to this. They were scared shitless that FauCorp would buy them if they said no.
Shigeru Miyamoto said that he wasn’t afraid to flip a woman like a table, if Susan Stoley even dared enter Nintendo’s damn building.
You are Cleo, and today, mistah Mark gave you some big news.
Some of it was bad. Some of it was good.
First, mistah Mark said that your old mummah doesn’t want you back, and Julius’ old daddeh doesn’t want him back.
This made you saddies.
But then, mistah Mark said that, if nobody else wants to take you two or your babbehs home, that you are all welcome to stay here, at the Fown-day-shun.
But he said there’s a catch. That means, as he explained, that you’ll have to give up something.
The catch is, if you do stay here, you won’t be allowed to have more babbehs. Mistah Mark said that they don’t have room to let the fluffies here have all the babbehs they want. He said, that if someone does take you home, it’ll be up to them if you have more babbehs. He showed you a special nu-babbehs nummie, and explained that mares who num them can’t have babbehs until they stop numming them.
You were okay with this, because you already have babbehs.
Boy, they’re starting to get big. Mistah Mark says that they won’t need miwkies anymore soon.
They’ve gotten the hang of making good poopies, too.
All in all, you like it here. It’s warm, and safe, and there’s nummies, and other fluffies to play with, and toysies. If you don’t get a new mummah or daddeh, you think you would be happy to stay here. Not having more babbehs is worth all of that.
You got to see your funny-talkie hoomin friends again earlier this bwite time, too. The oldest one, mistah Mario, is starting to learn how to talk like all the other hoomins do, like his two… what’s the hoomin word? Oh yeah, like his suns can. You think that’s it.
But after telling you all of this, mistah Mark gave you some very good news.
Julius is coming home soon! He’s got his weggies back, too! He’ll be able to give you and the babbehs huggies, and play with all of you, just like he always does!
You’ve pretty much forgotten about the three bad hoomins who gave him owwies.
Whatever happened to them, they’re not your problem anymore.
BORIS IVANOWITSCH BORTSOV?
“Da-- ой ебать.”
YOUR LUCK HAS RUN OUT.