Chapter 10

They agreed, Mitsuko would stay behind in the house to smash the remaining mirrors there, Hemmingway and Crunchy would head out, buy up some baseball bats or anything suitable they could get their hands on, and they would begin the rampage. Nobody quite knew how to organise it, there are a lot of mirrors out there in the world. Bunuel was to stay behind in the house. 

But Mitsuko’s reasons for staying behind were duplicitous. First of all, she was pissed off at Crunchy for being so fucking smart. Here was her big opportunity to show off to the bosses of the F.I.B., and some cunty work experience twat shows her up. She needs time to calm down, forgetting that in smashing mirrors, she’d get her chance to vent her anger, anyway. Secondly, she wants to know what Hemmingway is up to. She can definitely hear more than one voice coming from his bedroom, and there is a child that she’s seen glimpses of but enough to know that it’s not Bunuel. With Crunchy jeopardising her career, she needs to know what it is that Hemmingway is doing. She needs knowledge, she needs information, and then she can formulate actions. Besides, Hemmingway would have to understand that she’d need to smash the mirror in there, also.

She heads to Hemmingway’s room and tries the door to find it locked. Suspicious of what is inside, and disbelieving of the idea that Hemmingway could possibly have anything to hide from her, she calls out “Hello”.

There comes a “Hello” from inside. 

“Who is that?” calls Mitsuko from outside, but there is no answer. She tries another tactic. “I can’t get in, I need to get something for Hemmingway, but the door appears to be locked.” Mitsuko waits for the sound of someone walking towards the door, unlocking it, but it does not come.

“Emming always locks the door from the outside.”

Mitsuko kicks down the door, and storms in to find Annette in shock. “A piece of wood nearly impaled me in the heart!”

But Mitsuko does not have any time for this. “Yeah, yeah, now who the fuck are you, and why are you locked up like Crunchy?” The comparison sends dread through her, oh god, not another work experience dweeb-ette. 

“I’m Annette, I’m Emming’s girlfriend.”

“Annette Baguette?”

“Is that what he calls me? Why?”

“Doesn’t matter. What are you doing here?”

“What normal boyfriends and girlfriends do. Emming just didn’t want you to know I was here, because I’m not supposed to be here.”

This is a complete anti-climax for Mitsuko. She storms out of the room, slamming the door. Its latch broken, it swings back, enticingly open. Mitsuko leaves the house to join the others, her frustration seethingly high. 

Bunuel watches her leave through the window. He turns to his parents. “Smashing mirrors isn’t going to work is it?”

Breath materialises out of nowhere a few paces away from Bunuel, words that only he can hear. Bunuel shakes his head. “I thought not.”

***

Mitsuko joins us; it’s probably best to say that she doesn’t look too happy. She sees the baseball bat we got for her, and picks it up. She swings it at the nearby car wing mirror, setting off the car alarm. She smashes the window to get at the rear view mirror inside, and continues her carnage down the street. Taking his cue, Hemmingway takes his bat and starts on the other side of the street. I do not have a bat, opting for a more practical hammer. I put on my safety gloves and adjust my goggles and look around for somewhere to begin. This seemed a good idea a few moments ago, but with the cacophony of car alarms charting Mitsuko’s progress, I’m beginning to have my doubts. 

Over the alarms, people screaming further down the street captures my attention, and I see Mitsuko storming down a driveway, a woman standing in her doorway screaming at her for smashing all the mirrors in her house, thrusting out a compact as verification. Mitsuko holds her bat threateningly towards the woman. “F.I.B.! Want to argue?” It’s not my concern, so I turn away.

As Hemmingway and Mitsuko have taken one direction of the street, I turn in the opposite direction to begin that way. I smash the wing mirror of a car, jumping when the car alarm goes off. Having at least a little respect for the car owner, I try the door to see if it has been left conveniently unlocked rather than smashing the window to get inside. It is locked, and then I spot the reflection of a man behind my own in the window. 

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” He does not seem too happy, furious, I think would be a better adjective. 

“I…” but I am knocked to the floor. I would at least face the aggressor, if I didn’t catch sight of myself, or perhaps Bateman in a shard of mirror. Well, I have a reflection at least, either way it destroys the whole point of this mission, the point of it being to eliminate all possibility of having a reflection. And boy do I look pathetic, with blood running down from my nose, my clothes ruffled up from the fall. I look so pathetic that I suspect it is Bateman in the reflection, but he does not make himself obvious. But something clicks inside of me. If I am going to prove myself to anybody, it is now, and it is to Bateman, show him that I can be better than him.

I bounce back up, and face my aggressor. He takes another swing at me, but just like last night, when dealing with an armed robber, I stay calm, if anything, surprised by how fast my reflexes are as I catch his arm and twist it, just I have seen thousands of time in the movies. He twists his body to ease the shock, and I pull him toward me, still gripping his arm.

“F.I.B. I arrest you for blocking an officer whilst performing his duty.”

There is a police siren in the distance. I smile; they are getting a damn sight better at turning up on time compared to last night. My aggressor struggles, but with his twisted arm, I still maintain the upper hand. Foolishly, I pause to ponder if there is a pun in there somewhere, nearly allowing my aggressor to pull out of my grip, but I manage to stop him. The police car is coming towards us so I march the aggressor out into the road. The car screams to a halt inches before us. Should have thought about that, but he would have taken the brunt of the hit, anyway.

The policemen jump out of the car and move cautiously towards us, trying to assess the situation. I spot Hemmingway coming over to see what is going on, but he doesn’t come too far, preferring to remain a spectator just for the time being. I see him wipe his bat with his sleeve then dropping it and nudging it under a car. He then crosses the street casually, actually whistling innocently.

The first police officer moves closer towards us, his companion staying closer to the car. “Can I help you gentlemen?”

The aggressor goes to speak, but I give his arm a little twist. “This guy was attempting to prevent a member of the F.I.B. from performing his duty.”

The two cops turn around to survey the damage, cars screaming, their windows shattered, glass scattered on the pavements and road, a group of people standing outside one doorway, screaming their protestations at Mitsuko, who if one was a patient and careful listener would no doubt hear her screaming her abuse back and continuing to smash up mirrors. Even without Mitsuko’s current contributions, the scene isn’t exactly pretty. It is as they turn to face me that Mitsuko pushes herself away from the crowd. She spots the police and myself and moves up to join Hemmingway, also disposing of her bat, having once wiped it down. The crowd are also curious, but fan out to prevent an escape by Mitsuko. They will get her.

“Your duty, sir?”

“Yes officer.”

“And what exactly was this gentleman stopping you from doing?”

The truth is, I know that what we were doing was absolute bollocks. Unnecessary and useless. What were we going to do? Destroy every mirror on the face of the Earth? Trying to save humanity from its vanity? Even if we had managed to smash every mirror, we could not have stopped reflections appearing in the smashed shards, on the surface of windows, or water for that matter. Would we have blocked out the sun to stop shadows?  It doesn’t matter. We need to stop, and at least our duties were honest, and with the backing of the proper authorities. The police should understand that, at least. Then again, they shoot innocent people, for fucks sake. I just need to calmly explain.

“Myself and my fellow agents,” I indicate Hemmingway and Mitsuko not looking happy for the inclusion, “were undertaking a physical operation to prevent a particular reflection going by the name of Bateman from killing innocent people. This action involved the necessary smashing of all mirrors.”

The second officer is by now moving toward the other two. I can hear Mitsuko curse as she turns to face a gleeful crowd preventing her escape. She turns back to the officer, her hands outspread in protest. “Don’t involve us! We’ve got nothing to do with that dweeb!”

“If you would both just like to come with me.”

“No, thank you,” protests Mitsuko to the second officer. Hemmingway just stands there, not exactly pretending innocence, but not exuding guilt or anger, either. 

“Then I will have to place you both under arrest.”

Hemmingway steps in. “Look, that won’t be necessary. Here’s my badge, look. Mitsuko, show the nice gentleman your badge.”

She opens her jacket, but nothing is there. Slightly panicked, she pats herself down, but she doesn’t find anything. She turns to Hemmingway, lost. “I didn’t bring it with me.”

“What! Why not?”

“Well, you know what it’s like. It’s hard to show your badge and carry two guns at the same time. It’s not as if anyone looks at the badge. They either seem distracted or are just trying to shoot you.”

“When does anybody actually shoot at us, Mitsuko?”

“That old Granny…”

“She was deluded enough to believe that a multiplayer game option on her games console was enough to wipe us off the face of the earth if the words ‘GAME OVER’ flashed up on our screens.”

“Still had murderous intent, even if her means were a bit feeble. Cow.”

Knowing that they have no option, they allow the cop to handcuff them. This is not boding well for me. My aggressor isn’t struggling, knowing that my fate is sealed, but a twinge of anger causes me to twist his arm anyway. The sharp intake of breath satisfies me. I just wish it could get me out of this mess. It’s not actually being arrested I fear, it’s the punishment. From Mitsuko, obviously. 

The second cop brings them up to the first. “This one’s got a badge. The other claims she has, but hasn’t got it with her.”

The first officer turns to me. 

“I haven’t received mine yet.”

Both officers sigh. “First day on the job, sir?”

“Well, third, actually. I’m on work experience.” And that is the moment I would happily kick myself into eternity. My aggressor, or as he is being seen in the eyes of the rest of the world, my victim, pulls himself out of my grasp in disgust. I don’t fight, just letting him go. He begins swatting at himself, as if infested.

“Fucking work experience! Get it away!”

The first officer turns to him.

“Any of these cars yours, sir?”

He calms down enough to address the officer. “Yeah.”

“Would you care to just step over here so I can take a statement?”

My aggressor/victim gives me a dirty, vengeful look. “Certainly, officer.”

They step to one side as the second cop bundles the rest of us into the back of the police car. “I am arresting you for the charges of violating the peace, breaking and entering, criminal damage and impersonating an officer of the law.”

“I’m not impersonating, I’ve just got these two muppets to show me an example.” I don’t know where that came from, but it felt good saying it. Especially as I have pissed Mitsuko off. Intentionally, this time. 

“I’ve had it with you.”

“That’s your answer, is it? Violence?”

“Does a pretty good job.”

“It was you that got us into all this. Ooh, let’s pick up a baseball bat and start rampaging. Any Tomnoddy could have thought that one up.”

“It was your fucking idea, and don’t you dare Tolkien swear at me!”

“Attercop!”

Despite her hands being bound, and Hemmingway sat between us, Mitsuko lurches at me, lumbering due to the inconvenience of Hemmingway and therefore not reaching me. The cop pulls her back. I am still calm, enjoying the fact that Mitsuko’s buttons are so easy to push. This is a taste of the other side, how people have treated me for years. It may not be right for me to do this, but I couldn’t give a fuck right now.

“That is enough!” Hemmingway interjects, pissed at both of us. “It was your idea to smash the mirrors, Crunchy. What else would you have suggested?”

The truth is, I still know more than the other two, in that it was a doomed mission. But I don’t want to admit that, right now. But it is still an important question. I wonder if Hemmingway knew the futility of our actions all along and is just testing me. Well, if that’s the case, then I definitely need an answer. “We put out an appeal. Highlight the issues and dangers of mirrors. Need it have been any more complicated than that?” I sound like a hypocrite, I know, as I am criticising my previous suggestion. But this is an argument. It’s about momentum and shutting up everyone else more than it is about credibility. 

“It’s still your fault. I for one am pleading my innocence. And I’m ratting you out,” Mitsuko hisses.

“You do have the right to remain silent. I suggest you use it.” That wasn’t either of the cops, that was me. 

“Fucking….”  She lunges over Hemmingway who raises his knees out of reflex and whacking Mitsuko in the chin and causing her to bite her tongue. I snigger. She tries to continue her progress across Hemmingway, but the two officers get in, pulling her back.

“Leave it out.”

***

Bunuel watches the police car pulling off. It was he that called the police and as guilty as he feels about it, believes it was the right thing to do as his dead parents told him to do so. “Now what?” he asks them. 

His parents have been conferring with the rest of the ghosts and together they have come up with a plan to get rid of Bateman. The details are still sketchy, but what they have so far seems bullet-proof. “They are out of the way,” his parents tell Bunuel. “That is good. Now we must prepare the trap.”

“Can I help?” asks Bunuel, eager to spend as much time with his parents. He always took them for granted when they were alive and he probably spends more time with them now than he ever did before. But death has an odd effect on anybody, be they ten years old or a hundred, when the departed have not actually departed. Those wishes that come out of regretting not having spent enough time are still there in the confused brain, and Bunuel is no different.

“No. It should take only a matter of time now.”