PA 3.5: End of a Tail

Chapter XIII Part III

"Ginger?! Ginger are you there?!" It was the voice of Mitt, sounding as demanding and stuck up as ever, even when yelling in panic.

"Sorry Mittens, Ginger can't come to the phone," Patches looked over to the bound dog, "she's a little tied up at the moment," he said enthusiastically.

"What?! No, NO, leave her alone!"

Patches couldn't help but giggle at how powerless the witch was. There was nothing they could do to stop him; more than hurting Ginger, this made him feel proud.

"... If you touch her, I'll kill Dell!" they desperately spat.

Patches perked up, making sure to put a show on for Ginger by lightening his voice and flamboyantly gesturing while he spoke. "Oh! So that's how you knew to call your dear relative... Well, you can break her neck as far as I care; she's done being useful to me. I'm frankly a little offended you think I feel for a waste like her, but I suppose any excuse is a good excuse to kill some inferior dogs, eh?" Patches smiled and scratched at the underside of his muzzle with the knife. "But, if you're interested in Ginger's life, how about we trade! Say, the portal for her?"

"Patches, please don't hurt her. I don't know what happened between you, Olive, and their friends, but this isn't going to make you happy, or solve anything." Patches relished in the stifled, panicked tone. "Just, please-"

"Mitt, shut up," he demanded, "I don't know who you think you are, but if you think me ruining this traitor's life isn't going to make me happy, then you have no idea what you're talking about."

"Patches, I know exactly how you feel. Before I met Ginger I felt the exact same way about nearly everyone else, and I've done so many horrible things to people that I regret now but I'm moving past it. If you let us, we can help you, please," they pleaded.

"Mitt, you're a fool," Patches stated grimly. "Do you think every conflict can be solved by talking? Do you think if it were that easy, do you think people wouldn't just talk every conflict away? You're an optimist, and the moment you end up hurting your newfound 'friends' you'll find they'll turn on you just as quickly as they took you in."

Patches picked up the landline, carrying it as close to the bed as possible and extending the spiralled chord. "Oh! I know; how about I give you an example!"

Mitt said something into the phone, but Patches couldn't hear it as he took the phone away from his head. He placed the thing up to Ginger's ear, tucking it between a pillow and her head.

"It's for you!" Patches said, returning his attention to Ginger's open wound.

"M-tt?! M-tt! Y-u h--e to h--ry! H-'s-"

Suddenly Ginger filled the receiver with a muffled scream as Patches dug the knife into her musculature once more, this time opening into the capitis and getting access directly to her upper spinal cord. Patches shifted the weapon between the plates of her spine and slammed into the bundle of nerves contained within, destroying them. Ginger arched her back for the last time as she writhed in pain, then stopped moving. He stiffly yanked the knife up and down, wiggling it free like one might an axe.

"That's the... C5, I believe. Oh well, good enough!" He leaned down towards Ginger as her yelling died down. "Sorry, Ginger, hate to take the phone back from you so soon!"

Patches took the phone from under her head. She was incredibly limp, and tears were forming in her eyes as she stared off towards space. A weight crashed in his chest at the sight of her. The sensation was unbidden, and as soon as it came, he cast it away with all his strength, returning to his callousness.

"Sorry, Mitt?" Patches asked into the receiver.

"PLEASE! Stop, let her go!" Mitt screeched into the phone. "It's me you want- my family and my portal, so stop hurting her! Please!" Mitt's voice sounded demanding more than pleading, but it was still a step in a direction the dalmatian didn't fully expect.

"Mitt! I'm shocked! You sound so humbled," Patches said with a pleasant surprise in his voice, twirling the cord around his pointer digit.

"Shut up! People are trying to forgive you, and you keep spitting in their face!"

"Pfff- Hahahaha! Good! Don't act like you aren't a part of the side trying to kill me. Your little ploy isn't working; just as I said, the moment you hurt something precious to someone, forgiveness is out the window." He took a moment to let out the last of his giggling. "But, at least it's something different from Ginger's cliche begging."

"WHY?! Why are you hurting so many people all for the sake of your stupid fucking pride?! I wanted to help you, but you're AWFUL, you monster!" They screamed into the phone. A clatter sounded, then it went silent.

"Mitt?" He giggled a bit more. "You coming over to kill me? Hehe!"

There was still no response, just the light crackling of the other end of the phone.

Just as Patches was about to hang up, however, the sound of raspy breathing came through the line.

"Hmm... Who's this?"

It took a moment to breathe into the receiver before speaking with such restraint it was palpable.

"Patches."

"Ah! Coco!" he said in response to the cat's signature irritated tone of voice. "I was going to make a 'You're not Patches' joke, but your brother's already heard that one." He paused, sighing in remembrance as he twirled the phone's cord around a digit. "Welp! I'd love to stay and chat, but Ginger is expecting another visitor soon, and taking care of more than one guest is such back-breaking work for her." He smiled.

"What do you want." Her words were direct and abrupt.

"Don't ask stupid questions, kitty. You know what I want."

"No," she said sternly. "What. Do. You. Want. Why are you doing this?"

Patches didn't respond. He took stock of Ginger, who had a triangle cut of skin exposing her spinal cord, obscured by her bleeding. The droplets were splattered all across the floor leading to the phone and were centred around Ginger's wound. The loss of blood was significant, but she wouldn't die from it so long as Mitt arrived in a minute or two. He himself was covered in the stuff, particularly around his paws and legs. With his only clean paw, he wiped away some blood staining his face and measured the ichor's weight before rubbing it away with his thumb.

"I want all this to end," Patches said in a sickeningly malice-filled tone, making it clear he had nothing but hate for the cat.

Patches depressed the hookswitch, ending the call. He dropped the phone onto the floor and raised his wand, ending the spells holding Ginger and her wound in place. He craned his leg up and over the windowsill, quickly moving outside of the building. He could feel the fur on his neck stiffen as Mitt's presence grew metaphorically closer by each second that passed. Raising his wand, Patches made a swirling motion, directing the rod westward, towards his home. He disappeared in a flash of grey, away from the orphanage, only mere moments before Mitt would arrive.