In a bunker deep underground, in a location known only to one, Victor sings to himself as he cleans up the by-products of his handiwork, just as thoroughly as Valerie and Erwin clean their respective workplaces.
“Doo, doo, doo. Another one bites the dust!”
A nearby incinerator destroys the earthly remains of Kevin Rood, Lawrence Sprout, and Boris Ivanowitsch Bortsov.
Nobody on Earth will ever know what happened to the three stooges. Victor gave them a chance. Not a chance to walk away, but a chance to fold. A chance to accept that they had done terrible things, that they had fucked up and needed to pay for it. Had they just let the cops arrest them, they’d be alive now. They’d be in prison, but they’d be alive. Well, until the other inmates had learned about everything the three idiots had done to get sent there. They had a shitty hand from the beginning, but the three stooges went all in anyway, and they lost.
Victor may be a cad, he may have no shame like the Fondas, but, also like the Fondas, he still has standards, and he’s appalled by everything those three bastards had done. He’s had intercourse with many women, and many men in his life, but, and this is a point of pride for Victor, he’s never once slept with someone without their consent. Victor can take rejection just fine. And Victor has never killed anyone who didn’t have it coming if he could avoid it. Unlike those three, Victor regrets hurting innocent people. He does everything he can to avoid it.
Pierre and Deston are the only other two living people who even know of the bunker’s existence, or its purpose: to serve as a place where Victor makes assholes disappear. They don’t know where it is, or how exactly Victor does what he does.
Both of them could easily find out, but they have chosen not to do so, out of respect and understanding.
Only the worst of the worst are bestowed with the dubious honor of being escorted into the bunker by Victor. Only those who have wasted every chance they were given get this. For everyone else, a stern talking-to is usually enough to push them away from the Asshole Event Horizon.
The sex move of the same name has now been banned in two more states.
And then, Victor shows his guests the way to where they truly belong: Down There.
Victor does this, so nobody else has to. And especially so Calvin doesn’t have to. Victor likes Calvin, he likes Calvin’s friends, and he knows that Calvin is a better man than Victor will ever be. Victor wants Calvin to stay that way.
If it means Victor goes Down There too, so be it. As long as Calvin doesn’t. Victor’s more expendable than Calvin is, and Victor knows it.
Deep down, Victor thinks that he’s a monster. He’s got a lot of self-hatred. He’s just good at hiding it.
But, if his immortality ever does give out, and he does go Down There one day, then he’s taking as many other monsters as possible down with him.
Julius runs as fast as his little legs can carry him, following the ball he’s just batted away.
Ms. Pac-Man won her bet with her mummah, and is now trying to get to level 25.
Dig-Dug is reading Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone with the help of another of Valerie’s inventions: a page turner that can be operated by a fluffy.
It’s already available at Flufftopia. Most fluffies can’t actually read, not counting the ones genetically engineered by Pierre and Valerie, but they do like looking at the pictures.
Deston, incidentally, can’t stand those books, because, according to him, they get almost everything about wizardry wrong. He’s also not too fond of J.K. Rowling herself, either.
Of course, the Wizard’s Code forbids him from simply flinging a fireball at her, but even if it didn’t, he wouldn’t. Unlike certain people, Deston does not kill those who are weaker than him just because he finds them annoying. Honestly, he thinks it’s a waste of magic.
Valerie calls Julius over. Today’s the day.
“Julius, I think you’re ready to go back to your family.”
Julius stops running, and turns to Valerie.
“Juwius am guin back tu awwey?”
“No, no. Cal moved Cleo and your foals to a place called the Foundation. They’re safe, and they’re being taken good care of. But listen, Julius.”
Julius plops down on his fluffy little bum and looks up at Valerie.
“The people at the Foundation called your old owner. As well as Cleo’s. They don’t want you back.”
Julius looks crestfallen, but, he seems to accept it.
“Juwius daddeh say, if Juwius wan sketties, Juwius can num sketties owt of twashies. Juwius am nu daddeh pwobwem nu mowe. But Juwius knu nao, sketties am sum times nummies. Uva dok-tow say su.”
“I’m so glad you understand that, Julius. But, Julius, I’m not done. If, if we can’t find new homes for you, Cleo, or your foals, you are all welcome to stay at the Foundation. If you follow the rules, like Cleo and your foals have been doing, you can stay there for as long as you need to. If nobody else wants to take care of you, we will. That’s what the Foundation is about, Julius. Helping fluffies who don’t have anyone else to help them. Do you understand?”
Julius nods slowly.
Incidentally, you can tell, if you know the signs, just by the way a fluffy nods, whether or not they actually understand what you’ve just said.
Right now, all the signs are saying yes, and Valerie can see them like they’re glowing in neon.
For a couple of street fluffs that didn’t come from Flufftopia, Julius and Cleo are actually pretty smart.
Valerie thinks the foals have potential, too.
The Faucheuse brothers never turn away someone they see potential in, and neither do Pierre’s daughters.
“Well then, shall we be off? Dears, say goodbye to Julius. You may see him again. And if you do, you’ll be meeting Cleo and their foals too.”
After Ms. Pac-Man and Dig-Dug hug Julius goodbye, Valerie carefully picks up Julius with one arm, and blips out with the other.
blip
You are Cleo, and today, Julius is coming home!
You see mistah Mark walk into your saferoom.
Through the door, you see mistah Cal out in the hall.
“I couldn’t miss this, Cleo! Do you mind if I take some pictures?”
A couple of bwite times ago, mistah Cal showed you how he could use the little shiny flat boxie thing he can talk to, to make pictures of stuff. He made a picture of you and your babbehs, and then he used hoomin magic to put the picture on a flat square white thing. He said it’s called pwinting. The picture is now on the waww of your saferoom, low enough so you and your babbehs can look at it whenever you want. He said that he also put the picture on a fluff book, and that all the hoomins on the fluff book like it.
How many hoomins can be on one book?
And is your nosie really that big?
You hear another hoomin coming.
Mistah Cal turns, a grin now on his face. He takes out his talkie box thing and starts making pictures.
It’s miss Val!
And she’s got Julius!
He’s otay! His weggies are back!
And the one in his poopie place is gone, too!
“Juwius!”
“Cweo! Babbehs!”
Miss Val walks in and puts Julius down.
You two immediately run over to each other.
As fast as your weggies will carry you.
Your babbehs smelled their daddeh coming. They’d never seen him, their see-places were still closed when he left, but they remembered his smell.
They waddle over too, and you all start hugging.
“Awww, ain’t that sweet.”
Calvin pauses from taking photos with his phone, and wipes a tear from his eye. It’s a happy tear.
“Cal, don’t drop that phone like you dropped your blipper.”
“You knew about that, Val?”
“What can I say? I’m just like my father. And I know you did it twice.”
“Okay, the first time wasn’t my fault. It was during the Invasion. I had just taken it out, and then fu-- freaking Chris came out of nowhere and grabbed me, and it flew out of my hand. The second time, I’ll cop to that, I should have wiped the foal goo off my hand before me and Miles blipped out. But that also wasn’t entirely my fault, blame the bas-- bad man who dumped them there.”
“I understand he’ll be spending the next ten years of his life in prison. At least. And even when, or if he gets out, he won’t be allowed anywhere near his wife, their fluffy, or their currently unborn child.”
“Beating his fluffy was bad enough, but beating his pregnant wife too? Shi-- sugar, if I wasn’t such a peaceful man by nature, I would have taken his head off the moment I walked in.”
“But you didn’t, Cal. That makes all the difference. My father was right about you. Despite all of your power, you are still, fundamentally, a good person.”
Calvin does not know about Victor’s efforts to ensure that this remains true. Valerie probably does know. As she said, she’s just like her father.
“And you did take Boris down non-lethally.”
“Yeah, that’s true, Mark. Though he did escape when the prison bus crashed. Oh, but I got a call from Vic this morning. He headed Boris off at the Oldman farm last night, and said that he’ll make sure Boris goes where he belongs. Vic sounded ominous when he said that. I’m not asking him any more questions. I don’t wanna know.”
Meanwhile, Down There, three new arrivals are processed.
“Kevin Rood, Lawrence Sprout, and Boris Ivanowitsch Bortsov. LOOK at these three stooges. What do you think, sir? Think they’ll make good demons?”
“FUCK no. With OUR luck, they’ll turn out just like those two Oldman cunts. I know we’ve got to deal with a finite lifespan now, but I think our standards for new demons should be a BIT higher than THIS. How’s it going with those two fucks, by the way?”
“They’ve been tortured non-stop for THIRTY BILLION YEARS. And THAT was just the first THREE people to get a go at them, sir. The Boss, of course, went first.”
Remember: time works differently on the Other Side.
“Good, good. The Boss said he’ll be getting ANOTHER turn when everyone else is done. He’s NOT happy about everything they did. They really fucked up his plans. Now those feathery assholes all the way UP THERE have got the advantage: they’re immortal, we’re NOT. But hey, we still get a LOT more time than the fleshbags do, so we can still afford to play the long game. I think the Boss also said that any other plans regarding Earth are on hold, until the Oldmans have been THOROUGHLY dealt with.”
“Well, it’s not like we’re the ONLY ones with plans for Earth, sir. There’ll be OTHER shit to keep those fleshbags busy.”
“That’s true. Alright, send these three chowderheads down to the Rape Chamber. Yes, I see the looks on your faces. It’s EXACTLY what it sounds like. I’ve read their files, and ALL THREE OF THEM deserve what happens in THERE. Tell the boys there to make their cocks EXTRA big, EXTRA hot, and EXTRA sharp. You hear that, you little retards? You’re getting the Deluxe Package. HAAAAA!”
“Nice one, sir!”