The New Arrival
Sonic plunged his hand into the sea of packing peanuts, hot in pursuit of the churlish piece he had so eagerly anticipated. His cold hands clasped an even colder grip and he emerged with the .44 beside him, it's natural glimmer tainted with the pensive souls of the slew of bodies it perpetually sought. It was heavier than he'd expected. He stalked over to the window to see all but a pellucid night's sky, free of any heavy weather. He'd say it was the perfect time do to it, but it wasn't as if there'd ever be a perfect time, nor a good time to commit something like this. Amy would've have loved this kind of weather. He would have to, were it not for him. It was thanks to him that his ring finger stood naked, a cylindrical burden of unweathered skin. It was thanks to him that he stood alone in a house meant for a loving carefree family. But it wouldn't matter soon. None of it would matter soon, for death would be knocking at his crippled, dilapidated door in a day or so. Any hope of remission had been and gone, and the cancer now lay pompously in await of it's next victim. He couldn't drown his mind in a dingy pool of decrepit thoughts any longer, and left the building, stuffing the revolver loosely in his coat pocket.
He had already called for a taxi, and he soon spied it turning a corner towards him, it's typically inviting, iridescent yellow engulfed by the night sky, turning it a lifeless grey. The driver struck the horn with a painful enthusiasm, and he opened the marginally loose door to be met with a pair of dishevelled leather seats adorned with scattered litter and what he hoped were drink stains.
"Where we headed, then?"
He spoke with excruciating eagerness, which he chose to par with a shrilly monotonous tone.
"33 Evergreen Drive"
"Right on it!" he retaliated. It was as if they were playing the worst game of tennis ever.
His mind quickly faded to his current predicament. Was this the right thing to do? Would this grant him closure? Would this solve anything? But it was not long after he had drifted into such a state that he was immediately woken again
"Name's Tails, by the way. So what brings you over to these parts?"
He didn't know whether to say anything or just pity him and hope he'd just shut up. But out of pettiness and spite, he decided to tell him
"I'm going to kill someone" he said politely. Yet to his disappointment, the driver merely chuckled.
"I've gotta say, I could'a killed my last customer. You know why? He didn't tip anything! I mean what kind of as..."
He took his sudden stop by surprise, and looked up into the wing mirror only to see that his gun was hanging visibly out of his pocket. The driver said nothing, but his lips were now pursed and his grip on the wheel was significantly tighter.
Neither of them spoke for several minutes; the driver looked positively terrified, as if he could pull the gun out and shoot him at a moment's notice. Though, after a time, he overcame his fright and finally spoke, albeit in a hushed, borderline inaudible tone.
"I guess you weren't joking then"
He said nothing
"Who you killing?"
He couldn't hold it in any longer. He had to tell someone, had to let it out.
"Six months ago my wife Amy cheated on me with my former friend, Shadow. They live together and I live alone. Eight months ago I was diagnosed with terminal cancer and this is my last day on this Earth. I've had nothing, nothing to care for, nothing to look forward to since then. My last wish is to kill my former friend for what he's done to me."
His destination began to enter his vision, though it was clouded by the tears beginning to form in his eyes. As he opened the door, he heard the driver call to him, in something loosely in the vein of 'good luck' before driving off as swiftly as possible.
As he approached the back door of the house, stepping over the gnomes strewn across the lawn, he noticed it had begun to rain. He looked up at the door to see it incredibly well maintained; recently painted, windows washed, brass handle polished, all things that sickened him. He lifted up the plant pot and, lo and behold, he was met with a rustic door key. He ought to know where it was, for he he had been here countless times, as a guest, as a friend, but those days had passed and gone, the calm before the storm. He unlocked the door and crept through it. It suddenly occurred to him that he didn't really have a clue as to how he was going to lure him out, but he told himself he was sure he'd think of something. He froze as he got to the end of the hallway. He had seen him, pouring himself a glass of orange juice. This shouldn't have really been a surprise, as he was a severe insomniac. He stalked towards him, now a fairly short distance from him. Hands perfectly still with a murderous certainty, he lay his sights upon his head.
He disabled the safety, inducing an uncharacteristically tame click, yet also leading him to drop his glass, orange juice over the floor, it's lively shade of persimmon laying in deep contrast to the rough pewter floor. It was lucky that the glass was made of plastic, lest it shatter and wake her up. He slowly turned to face him, shaking slightly, yet still attempting to maintain a calm demeanour.
"Sonic. What a pleasant surprise. It must be what, six months? Doesn't time just fly?"
He spoke back in a tame yet manic tone, a desperate grin upon his face.
"Doesn't it just, Shadow?"
"So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
He opened his eyes further as he took a step towards him.
"I think we both know the answer to that question"
They both remained silent for a few seconds, before he spoke.
"Listen, I'd love to see you do your worst to me, but you lay a finger on my pumpkin.."
"Your pumpkin?" he exclaimed as he strode further towards him. "Your pumpkin is she!" He held his gun up to his face "She...is not...YOUR PUMPKIN!"
He remained perfectly calm, towering over him with a face of steel.
"I certainly call her it enough."
He stepped up to his hear, gun still up against him and whispered
"I'd strongly advise you not to argue with the man with a gun pointed at your head."
As he pulled away, he turned his face to one of a more neutral look.
"This is my last day you know." his face growing a sombre expression. "My last day on this planet. And that's why I came here. I believe we have some 'unfinished business' to attend to." He shot a solemn grin his way and his face turned to one of confusion and anger.
"So you're telling me, that you're dying today and you're doing this for closure. Closure that's gonna last a few hours, tops. You really are that bitter, aren't you?
"It's what you deserve"
"What I deserve?" He ran straight up to his face "I treated her better better than you ever did!"
"THAT'S NOT WHAT MATTERS!" He shoved him relentlessnessy to the floor, finally towering over him, gun pointed at him."She cheated on me with you! You're even worse!"
They remained silent for a few seconds staring hatefully into each others eyes.
"How to you think this will make her feel? You kill me, you break her heart. You really think she'll want to get back together with you when you've just murdered me? Slowly, he pointed his head towards him "I may be your villain, but that doesn't mean I'm hers"
He retaliated, a hint of moxie in his speech.
"And what do you propose I do?"
"Oh, I've got a plan, and it's a good one. It makes everyone happy. Take that gun, and aim it at your head, and pull the trigger."
He tried to retaliate, but no words came from his mouth.
"She'll be happy, I'll be alive and you won't have to live with the knowledge that you broke her heart. Don't you see? It's just a shortcut for you! When you're dead, none of this is is going to matter anyway, so what good will killing me do?"
He looked down at the gun in his hand. Was he right? Was it just a shortcut? Or did he just want him dead and live a happy life with the woman he stole? He held up the revolver, amazed at how many outcomes it could bring.
He took a deep breath and pulled the trigger.
