This chapter contains racist language and violence
“I gave you a fuckin 20.”
“No sir, you give me 10.”
“It’s bright fucking purple, can you not tell the difference you Paki cunt?”
Jonathan was 16 years old and unable to stop his father’s words from escaping his mouth, though these days he didn’t put up much of a fight. What was he doing in a rundown little council estate like this shithole, a place where the underaged grandmothers are pimping out their underaged daughters for drugs, where the place reeked of shit and the majority of it was human. A place where thieving bastards like this prick in front of him could steal his money.
Maybe he’d coming looking for a fight after all.
The shopkeeper, an elderly Asian man with a name-tag reading ‘Samir’ sighed, likely he’d heard every racist insult under the sun. “Please do not call me a Paki sir, I am telling you, you gave me 10, the cigarettes are 3.95, I have given you the correct change now please leave me shop.”
“I’ll call you what I fucking want and I’m calling you thieving Paki scum, I gave you a fucking 20 and I want my fucking change.”
“Sir if you keep being aggressive I’m going to ask you to leave.”
“ASK? You’re going to ASK me? And what if I say….”
Jonathan paused, in the corner of his eye he could make out the security camera pointing right at him, as much as he could feel his muscles tensing in preparation to knock this fucker’s lights out, he was still smart enough not to do it on camera.
Reluctantly he pulled back and made for the exit, kicking over a tower of crisp boxes as he did.
“Thieving fucking scum.” He snarled at Samir before storming out of the shop.
As the door slammed shut behind him, Jonathan felt the slightest pang of regret, but he stomped that down hard. If everyone was going to judge him for being his father’s son, then he would be his father’s son.
That night, Jonathan waited in the bushes, his clothes dark, his face covered. In front of him he watched as Samir closed up shop for the night, slowly turning off the lights and making for the exit.
Jonathan looked down at the weight in his right hand, a glass bottle filled with petrol and a soaked rag sticking out the top. A simple Molotov Cocktail but he had been careful gathering the components, the glass was a generic brand from outside of his area, the petrol was not the usual brand his father used, and the cloth was fashioned from a dish towel he’d stolen off a washing line.
Some might call it premeditated, Jonathan called it thinking ahead.
Just then, Samir stepped out of his shop and locked the door, as he reached up to close the shutters, Jonathan made his move, quickly rushing up behind the elderly man and kicking him in the back of the knee.
Samir let out a yelp and collapsed to the ground, his hands rushed to his hip and a low, pained groan rumbled out of his lips. Jonathan ignored him and stole the keys out of Samir’s jacket pocket. Without saying a word, he open the shop door, lit up his Molotov, and lobbed it inside, aiming directly for the selection of spirits behind the cash register.
The flames burst in a wild display of reds and oranges, the petrol spread the fire across the store with the spirits adding more heft to the power of the blast. The large fire in a small shop set everything alight much quicker than Jonathan expected, and so he dropped the door keys and turned away, ignoring Samir’s now pitiful whines as he watched his livelihood go up in flames.
As Jonathan marched off, he felt this horrid feeling in his gut, he bit down on his cheek trying to ignore it but something just felt off. He didn’t know why, he’d done what he wanted, got the exact result he needed, and yet… he didn’t feel happy with it.
He bit down harder as he passed by a trashcan, out of his pocket he pulled out the unopened pack of cigarettes that started this whole mess and dumped them inside.
He didn’t even fucking smoke.
Scarlett woke slowly, it took her a moment to realise where she was, the memory of last night’s dream… was it a dream, she felt sore but that didn’t mean anything, sleeping in a padded bed still didn’t come naturally to the former feral.
But she was sure she’d seen her father, fought him, killed him, was the taste of blood in her mouth a remnant of their battle, or the lingering flesh of an earlier kill.
Not wanting to risk her mind to impossible thoughts, Scarlett put her focus elsewhere and climbed out of the bed, making her way over to the kibble bowls where Stroopwaffle was already started on his breakfast. Silently, Scarlett stood beside him and took a small mouthful of kibble from her bowl, the sheer size of the Fluffalo next to her made her remember Fing, she knew Stroopwaffle was harmless, but the looming shadow he cast over her gave her a slight itch on the tip of her missing ear.
“Stwoopwaffeh… wast dawkie time, did Scawwet….”
She paused, wondering if she really wanted to know about last night or not. Would it potentially make things worse to know that it was real? After a moment she sighed and turned away.
“Fuk it, nu impowtant.”
She returned to her breakfast, a sour mood crossing her face as she took small and lazy bites, she glanced over a Stroopwaffle and saw the gentle giant was giving her a small, friendly smile. Despite herself, Scarlett found herself smiling back.
Across the room, the humans sat around the kitchen table with the morning coffees. Taylor’s eyes continually darting over towards Stroopwaffle.
“I still can’t believe you kept him.”
Artemis shrugged. “He’s had a hard deal, and nobody would adopt him with ‘Foal Stomper’ burnt into his side. I figured we’d already taken in one Fluffy, what’s the harm in the 2nd?”
“The fact that he was a boy, she was a girl, can I make it anymore obvious?”
Jonathan shook his head before taking a large sip of coffee. “I wouldn’t worry about that, Stroop seems to be too traumatised from killing his own kids to want anymore and Scarlett… well Scarlett’s never shown any interest in foals. Save for eating the fat ones.”
Bryan looked down at Scarlett, then back over at Jonathan. “You think she’s… what the term, where they ain’t interested in fucking?”
“Asexual? Maybe but I doubt it, she’s probably too busy killing to have the time to raise a family. I can bet you she’s seen the mares that balloon up towards becoming immobile and she wants nothing to do with that.”
Artemis chuckled. “Can you imagine how pissed off she would get? Itching to kill and can’t move. Would drive her fucking crazy.”
The quartet shared a small laugh just as the phone rang, Bryan hefted his bulk off the chair and strolled over to the landline while the others kept talking. Artemis quickly finished her coffee and looked towards Taylor.
“I should’ve discussed keeping Stroop with you before bringing him in, I got caught up and acted, I’m sorry.”
Taylor waved his hand to dissuade her fears. “Don’t worry about it, I get it. Just let me know if you’re getting soft on me Jackson, I’m just the brains of this operation, I can’t leave all the grunt work to Mr Mental Illness over here. No offence.”
Jonathan shrugged. “None taken.”
Artemis gave a joking snort. “Don’t worry, you need me to hunt, then I’ll hunt.”
“Good…”
The trio looked up and over towards Bryan who had just put down the phone.
“…Because we’ve got a hunting order. Mr Clarkson says his rose bushes have been torn apart by a feral herd, he wants them killed and he’s willing to pay for a rush job.”
“How many bodies?” Asked Artemis.
“6 or 7 at least, potential for more. Says no more than 10, not including foals.”
Taylor turned back to Jonathan and Artemis. “You two go, take Scarlett with you. I’ve got a few ideas in my head to tinker up something for Stroop to cover up his disfigurement. You don’t need three of us on a job this small.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, after the bank incident I feel I deserve some time out of the field. I’ll be fine, I’ve got a ton of projects in the lab that I’m backed up on. You two handle this one.”
With their places set, Jonathan and Artemis suited up for the job, Jonathan grabbed Scarlett as the three of them jumped in the van to head out.
“Do you know this guy?” Jonathan asked after a few minutes on the road. “Clarkson was it?”
Artemis smirked. “Abraham Clarkson, you’d like him. Acts like he comes from money but doesn’t actually have that much. He’s one of the town’s oldest residents, bought up a good house nice and early right before the Fluffy Outbreak, now he’s stuck here but he’s too proud to admit that he can’t sell the house for a profit.”
“How much is he selling it for?”
“About twice as much as it’s worth, it’s a good place in a shitty location, nobody wants to put down roots where half your monthly wage goes to Fluffy clean-up. Why, you interested?”
“Maybe a little. The place Bryan got me is nice and all but I know it’s not a home, be good to put roots down and whatever his price was, I know I could afford it. If I had access to my money of course.”
“Ah yes, the curse of being a rich fugitive. You have all the money in the world but you can’t touch any of it. Is all that just sitting in a bank gathering dust?”
“Essentially yes, my Uncle Herman is the beneficiary now and I know for a fact that he won’t touch a penny of it. If he hasn’t given it all away then it’s like you said, just gathering dust.”
Artemis nodded and turned her attention back to the road, Jonathan climbed into the back of the van towards where Scarlett was lying, he had noticed her mood was off all morning but now with the prospect of hunting not even breaking her of her stupor, something was up.
“Hey, you ok?”
“Am fine Jon.”
“You sure, you’ve been surly all morning.”
“Jus bad sweepy-pictas, nu wan tawkies bout it.”
“Sounds like it was bad, you want…”
“Say nu wan fukin tawkies bout it.”
Jonathan took the hint and left her alone, figuring maybe some morning cannibalism would perk her up.
The trio arrived at Clarkson’s home a few minutes later, Jonathan had to admit that for the area it was quite nice, an almost rustic cottage type of home with a large garden. A large garden currently infested with Fluffies, Jonathan could see the hole under the fence where they’d buried in from the van.
He briefly wondered why so many fences were utter shit these days, but ignored that thought as shit fences kept him in a job and stepped out of the van with Scarlett in his arms. As they approached the house, a man who could only be Abraham Clarkson stepped out and marched over to them. Clarkson could only be described as egg-shaped, in more ways than one, his chest and legs were skinny little things but his waist bulged out almost comically. More than that though, his face was round and shiny, not a speck of hair save for his thin eyebrows and large, curled moustache.
Jonathan recognised this type of old money prick immediately, right down to the expensive but ill-fitting suit.
“About time you people got here.” Clarkson blustered out in a voice that was intentionally lowered a register or two. “These blighters have been desecrating my Centifloia’s for hours now.”
“Stay calm Mr Clarkson.” Artemis quickly disarmed him with a soft voice. “We came as quickly as we could and we’re ready to tackle the problem. Now has anything changed since you called us.”
Clarkson grumbled for a moment before answering. “No, far as I can tell the numbers haven’t changed. They’ve just been eating and defecating and… fornicating.”
Both Jonathan and Scarlett stifled back laughter, Artemis remained professional and placed a hand on Clarkson’s back to guide him back inside.
“You stay inside now Mr Clarkson, exterminations can get messy but I promise we will get results.”
Clarkson looked to try and argue, but he wanted the Fluffies out of his garden as soon as possible and so followed the instructions to head back inside. With the homeowner out of the way, Artemis and Jonathan gathered a variety of bludgeoning tools from the van and stepped into the garden.
Almost immediately they were approached by a tubby purple stallion, flanked by two lime-green earthies.
“Dummeh hoomin, dis am Smawty wand, weave nyo ow gu foweba sweepies.”
Both Artemis and Jonathan ignored the Smarty’s demands and surveyed the garden.
“How many you count?” Jonathan asked casually.
“I got seven, four males, three females. You?”
“Same, should be easy work.”
“Think we need to worry about any of them escaping out the fence?”
“Nah, they’ll all be gone long before any of them realise they can use it.”
“Wha Scawwett du?”
“You gather up the kids and munch them down, or just stomp on them. This is a full sweep so go nuts.
The purple Smarty snorted in anger and yelled out. “DUMMEH HOOMINS NO IGNOWE BESTESH SMAWTY, GU WAY OW SMAWTY GIB YU FOWEBA SWEEPIES!”
Artemis rolled her eyes and looked over at Jonathan. “You want him?”
“Oh no, ladies first.”
Artemis smirked as she flicked out her baton and brought it crashing down on the Smarty’s head, instantly his skull caved in, spraying blood and brains onto the Toughies either side of him.
“NUUUUUUUU!!!”
Several screams and loud farts filled the air and the team got to work, Jonathan brought swung a hammer into the face of one toughie while Artemis uppercut the other with her baton, both died immediately.
Artemis turned her attention to a dark red mare rushing towards the Smarty’s body.
“NUUUHUUUHUUU! Speciaw-fwiend am foweba sweepies, nyo Mawoon neba hab bestesh tummeh-babbehs eba, huuhuuuhuuuu… URK!!”
Artemis smacked the mare across the back of the skull with her baton, the hardened metal cracked the fragile bone, killing the mare before she could even register what happened. Her body tumbled and landed on top of her dead mate, almost poetically holding him as they entered the afterlife together.
Meanwhile, Jonathan had found a lone yellow mare sitting in a puddle of her own piss, her hoofs covering her eyes.
“If Maybeh nu see munstah, den munstah nu see Maybeh. If Maybeh nu see munstah nu see Maybeh. If Maybeh nu se…”
THUNK
Jonathan’s slammed both claws of his hammer into her brain, her body twitched for a moment before he ripped the hammer back and she dropped dead. Then he heard it.
“NNNGGGHHH, keep pushies speciaw-fwiend, soon-mummah wan wun way.”
“Am twyin speciaw-fwiend, bu tummeh-babbehs am makin it hawd.”
Jonathan turned and saw the last Fluffy couple trying to escape out the hole in the fence, however the mare had chosen to go first and had gotten stuck. How the hell she got in was anyone’s guess, but now her stomach had wedged itself in the dirt and she couldn’t move. Behind her, her mate tried to push her through to no avail.
“HNNNNGGGHHH!!! SOON-MUMMAH AM STUCKIES, HEWP SPECIAW-FWIEND!”
“AM DUIN PUSHIES SPECIAW-FWIEND, NU WAN HUWT BAB….”
SPLURT
Jonathan’s foot came crashing down onto the mare’s back, an explosion of shit and dead babies came flying out of her, spraying the stallion in the face. The mare gargled and shivered for a few seconds before her nearly bisected body finally gave out, the stallion meanwhile was still processing that it was his own dead foals that had just been fired into his face.
And then the penny dropped.
“aaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH…”
Jonathan very quickly dealt with him with another hammer blow to the head, ending the herd in a sudden and bloody manner.
While all of this was going on, Scarlett tackled the foals. There wasn’t a lot of them, and most of them were too young to know to run away, but she enjoyed the hunt.
This felt right, even if it was a perfectly pedicured lawn, the feeling of grass under her hoofs as she chased down stupid babbehs was everything to her, and the dour mood she’d woke up in was gone.
She was herself again, and she was having fun.
That was until Scarlett was biting off the top half of a yellow filly when she caught the scent of more Fluffies hiding behind one of the bushes, licking her lips in anticipation, Scarlett skulked into the thorny brush to meet her prey. But where she expected to find a cowardly idiot, she found a dark green mare, skinny and shivering, but the look in her eyes was determined, she wasn’t hiding, she had a purpose.
“St…stay way, mun…stah. Stay way fw…fwom wastesh ba…babbeh.”
Scarlett looked down, and just behind the mare was a foal, young, skinny, weak, their eyelids looked too heavy for them to keep open. She turned her attention back to the green mare, her Fluff was dirty, almost dirty enough to blend in with the rose-bush, and it looked like it had been that way for a while. She was far from what anyone would call well-fed but she wasn’t skinny, and yet the mare’s teats were practically deflated, even with only one foal who looked half-starved.
Then Scarlett saw the black eye and she realised this mare had been forced to give up all her milk to the other foals, starving her own in the process, this weak little thing was all she had left, and she wasn’t giving them up without a fight.
Scarlett stared the mare down, almost silently begging her to try something, to run away like the coward she was supposed to be, to make this fun for Scarlett, to make it easier to kill her and her stupid fucking babbeh. Why wasn’t she moving, why was she staring back as hard as Scarlett, unrelenting, unwavering. Why did she have to make this so fucking difficult?
“GAAAAAAHHH!” Scarlett felt her brain snap and she rushed out of the rose-bush, Jonathan and Scarlett immediately noticing her anger.
“Dummeh fukin mawe in dewe wib dummeh fukin babbeh.”
The two of them watched Scarlett storm off in a sulk before Artemis snapped back to reality.
“I’ll deal with the mare, you talk to her.”
While Artemis carefully climbed through the bushes to find the mare, Jonathan approached Scarlett, she had sat herself down at the other end of the garden, away from all the blood and carnage, and was facing the fence. Her shoulder were drooped and her head hung low, lower than it had been all morning. Jonathan slowly and silently sat down beside her, letting the silence wash over them for a moment.
“You want to talk about it?”
“Fuk off Jon.”
“Hey now, we’re a team you and I, best Fluffy killers in the business, that’s what we agreed on. And if my partner had a problem, I want to try and help fix it.”
More silence passed between them both before Scarlett finally spoke.
“Am Scawwett a munstah?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Aww Scawwett wememba is want be wike daddeh, be stwong an bwave, tu num Fwuffies an make dem shit demsehves in scawdies. Scawwett neba meet daddeh Cwimson, bu heaw wots of stowies an make Scawwett wan be wike dat. Bu Scawwett nu can du it, Scawwett nu can gib huwties tu ebewy Fwuffy wike daddeh, daddeh nu cawe whu he gib huwties tub u Scawwett du. Nu feew gun gibben huwties tu Fwuffies whu nu huwt udda Fwuffies, wike dat mawe an hew babbeh, ow da bwown mawe at da nummie pwace, ow Wowipop an Pickeh. Scawwett nu knyo wai nu can be wike daddeh, den…”
“Then what?”
“Wast dawkie-time, Scawwett hab sweepy-picta, ow fink it sweepy-picta, bu Scawwett meet daddeh Cwimson, sum fukin magicy buwwshit bwing daddeh bak and gib Scawwett biggesh heawt happies. Den daddeh tuwn intu biggesh meanie, twy tu gib Scawwett wowstesh speciaw-huggies an foweba sweepies, and Scawwett hab eben mowe confoosies cos nyo nu knyo if was stiww be wike daddeh bu nu knyo neba can be, bu nu knyo how be aneefing ewse. Gib Scaweet fukin finkie-pwace huwties, nu wike it.”
Jonathan could see the tears welling in Scarlett’s eyes, her whole worldview was shattering and she was having self-doubt issues. For a second Jonathan wondered about Scarlett’s family history, Crimson had been just smart enough to develop a secondary personality after Josef’s psychological torture and Scarlett appeared to be showing similar traits of intelligence.
But those thoughts could be saved for later, right now his friend needed empathy, not analytics.
“You don’t need to be your father’s daughter Scarlett, you can be who you want to be, and if you are want to be is a bad-ass cannibal with a soft spot for the downtrodden, then you be that. You don’t have to be Crimson, we already had one of him, and that was too fucking much.”
“Bu… how Scawwett be meanie tu sum Fwuffies bu gud tu uddas, am dat nu confoosing.”
“Think of it like this, why assign yourself as either black or white, when you can be grey, the best of both worlds.”
“Scawwett neba finkies bout it wike dat befowe. Am Jon gwey tuu?”
“That’s a loaded question Scarlett, at times I think I am, but then I remember I’ve done terrible things, things I should’ve been punished for. Like you I tried to be like my father, and like you, my father was a monster, and I knew he was a monster but his life was all I knew and I wanted to be like him because I didn’t know how to be anything else. Am I grey, I like to think I am now, but part of me knows I’ve got too much black in me to every truly be grey.”
Jonathan reached over and softly stroked Scarlett’s back. “What we both need to remember, we are not our father’s children, we’re different, and we’re better.”
Scarlett smiled at Jonathan, her mood lifted by their talk. “Fank yu Jon.”
“Anytime.”
“Jon?”
“Yeah?”
“Stop gibben Scawwett stwokies wike am fukin kitty-fwiend.”
“Ha, ok, sorry.”
The two of them stood up and returned to Artemis who has just pulled out some gloves and bin-bags from the van for clean-up.
“Hey, you two ok?”
Jonathan nodded. “Yeah, just needed to get some things off our chest, nothing to worry about.”
“Wha happen tu mawe in bushy pwace?”
“I let her go, gave her some food for her kid and dropped her on the other side of the fence, told her to get the fuck outta here. She seemed to understand this wasn’t a safe place anymore.”
“Wha gun happen tu hew?”
“No idea, not anything we need to think on anymore.”
“Oh…”
A strange silence passed between the three, something Artemis quickly picked up on.
“Um, well we’ve got a bit of clean-up to do, so John, how about you and I start gathering up the bodies, Scarlett you want to start chewing on anything you find?”
“Nu, Scawwett nu hap hungwies wight nyo, wiww put Fwuffy bits in twashie bag.”
With an uncharacteristically subdued pace, Scarlett started picking up pieces of Fluffy flesh off the grass and carrying it over to a pile near Artemis and Jonathan to be put into a bag later.
Artemis turned to Jonathan. “Is she ok?”
“Right now? Probably not. But I think she will be, she just needs a little time to figure herself out.”
the rotten fences they seems not to get better in any story the silent “antagonist”.