A/N: Okay, this first chapter will be very much AU (not so much afterword). I've had this story in my head for a few weeks / since I have re-discovered this show. Anyways, this will center on Yakko because wow I love him. If people like it I'll keep going. Enjoy:)
Prologue ~ 1 9 2 9
The Warner Brothers Studio lot wasn't normally a quiet place. Yet, as the moon shown on a clear night, just a tick before the witching hour, one man found solace at the end of hectic workday. Almost catlike, he dashed across the company's sleepy parking lot and through the mazes of offices and studios leaving only a trail of smoke from a cigarette in his path.
An unknowing person would assume he was a burglar the way he mischievously snuck around buildings and dodged the few streetlights. Or perhaps, they would assume he was a flashy gangster since he wore a tailored suit, beplumed fedora, and pointy leather shoes.
Either way, that person would be fairly wrong. Although, he would argue that he's probably played both those characters more times than he could count. And he could count pretty high.
After making his way around the lot, he came to a certain office building. He smirked sticking a gloved hand in his pocket and producing a ring of keys. Without hesitation he grabbed for one in particular, flicked his cigarette to the side, and slid into the entrance.
Once inside the space he flicked on a light to reveal a slightly messy office space. It was a room just large enough for a couple of file cabinets and a desk that was littered with paperwork.
The lanky young man scanned the room, "Late again, Miss Minx," he said beneath his breath before relieving himself of his coat. After that, his gloves were the next to go. And finally, he removed his feathered hat which promptly revealed a mess of thick black hair.
His eyes met with the clock that rested on the wall above the desk. He walked closer to it, ringing his hat and gloves in his hand. The longer hand clicked over the eight… tick… tick… tick... he held his breath for a moment.
And… twelve p.m. midnight.
Almost on cue, the door to the office swung open to reveal a heavenly sight to the young man's eyes.
"Fashionably early?" asked the curvy silhouette, "Well, given Mr. Yakko's radiating charm and irresistibility - I wouldn't doubt a new trend beginning." With that, the woman entered her office not quiet acknowledging the man yet (besides, of course, saying his name with her sarcastic jab.)
Yakko smiled looking to her like a pre-teen boy who had just discovered this titillating other sex.
"Hello Minnie Minx," he said practically having to pick up his jaw from the ground.
She removed her long trench coat and slung it over her chair. Yakko might have been one to exaggerate on a lady's beauty, but the young woman was worth every compliment he had ever thrown her way. She had curly blonde hair that fell to just below her shoulders, a figure that was occasionally known to stop Burbank's busiest traffic, and flawless porcelain skin that Yakko was currently imagining pressed against his own.
She turned her attention to behind her desk where she immediately began to toil with paper work with out even taking the chance to sit down.
"Jeez," began Yakko watching her attend to the mess, "I think Zeus left a message for you, Aphrodite."
She stopped fiddling with her papers and slowly looked up to meet his gaze. He smirked back gallantly, leaning on her desk.
"And what did he want, Mister Yakko?" she asked coyly.
"You, me, and nothing but Greece's idyllic scenery," he ended with a wink and she turned a slight hue of pink. "I think he said something along those lines," he practically sang as she rolled her eyes and brought a pile of papers to a cabinet across the room.
"Tell him it'll have to wait. I have another wolf wagging his um... tail outside my door at the moment."
He stepped next to her, "Is this guy annoying?"
"Oh, definitely."
"With an irritating voice?"
"Most would describe it as so, yes."
"And a face that graces every hit Warner Brothers Studio have ever tuned out?"
She turned to him after stuffing away the papers, "Hey you know him? Maybe you could do me a favor and take care of him for me! Thanks."
He flashed her a toothy grin as she slipped by to take seat on her desk. She looked to him tantalizing as she slowly crossed her lithe legs.
Now things were getting interesting, Yakko thought as he adjusted his tie.
"Oh, of course!" he cried in an effeminate voice he pulled, "Anything you want, honey! Just say the word!"
She giggled, he always had that effect on her (and practically any other person he came in contact with). He sauntered over to stand in front of her throwing his hat on gloves on the desk behind her.
She smiled to him for another drawn out moment before clearing her throat, "I guess you wanna know why I called you hear so late."
"Sweetheart, I just wanna know why we've waited this long!" he lunged toward her but she quickly dodged his advance and playfully pushed him back.
"No, no, no," she laughed dryly, "That's not why I asked you here."
"Well why then? Come on, it wasn't that easy making up an excuse to get out of rehearsal!"
She crossed her arms and creased her brow, "What did you tell them, anway?"
"Well," began Yakko in that same sing-song way, "I told them you needed help... opening your mail."
He waggled his eyebrows and she laughed in embarrassment slightly leaning forward. His height and her low cut dress proved well to his advantage. He snickered to himself. If only she could look away long enough for him to get a good long glance.
"I called you here to talk a bit of gossip," she said suddenly changing the subject.
His shoulders sunk, "Gossip? Donchya got girlfriends for that kinda thing?"
His eyes had wandered to a spot on her desk where lay a cigar. Without much thought, he swiped it up and reached into his pocket for the match. She quickly snatched it from his grasp.
"Gossip about you, Mr. grabby hands!"
He smirked, "Don't worry," he said reaching into his breast pocket and producing a cigarette. "I always come with a back up."
He lit it and blew smoke to the ceiling.
"So," he began cooly, "Who's been running their mouth this time?" He looked to her as a name suddenly entered his mind, "Let me guess. Was it that bastard Berle?" He looked away from her cursing his foe under his breath.
"Mr. Yakko, please. I know it may be hard for you but control yourself."
"Ahar," he made a small humorless laugh. "Darling, I have very much control. Now spill the beans. Whatchya hear?"
She frowned, hoping it wouldn't have to come to this, "You're leaving the Warner Brothers studio. You're dropping your contract - that mind you might was well be written in your blood- and you're running home to New York City."
He looked to her bored, wiggling the cigarette between his lips.
"I did my movies," he finally said, "I sang and danced with the pretty chorus girls. I gave it my all. It just isn't me."
She gaped to him, "What do you mean it isn't you? You know you have more talent in one finger than half of California does in writers, directors, dancers, or -"
"I mean that I need a live audience," he said cutting her off, "I'm a Vaudevillian okay? It's in my blood unlike that contract which I very much remember signing in ink, thank you."
"So we'll get you a live audience..."
"We both know that isn't possible!"
"But you can't leave! You just… you can't."
"Look," he said scratching the back of his head before rubbing the butt of his cigarette into a pile of papers. "It's the beginning of a recession. I walk past lines of men waiting in line for a loaf of bread to feed their families every day. And then here I'm locked away in this studio clapping like a damn seal for you people!" he desperately grabbed for words that could properly explain his thoughts without causing her to get upset – but no words came. He had said what he truly felt and his words could not be taken back.
"Don't be a fool," she spat jumping off her desk.
"You're really upset about this aren't you?" he placed his hands on his hips and watched as she turned her back to him, "I'm sorry, baby, but I've made up my mind. It's time for me to remove myself from the Warner Brothers. For good."
She looked to the floor as her shoulders gently began to shake.
He sighed heavily, watching a girl cry was the last thing he wanted to see.
"Well I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, sweetheart. There's just things a guy's gotta do in life." Still feeling rotten that he made her so upset he placed a hand on her shoulder. "I promise I'll still visit once in while. Ya'know. To help you open your mail."
She turned to him with tears streaming down her cheeks. Yakko's heart sunk even further, if that was possible.
"C'mon" he said trying to pull her into his arms, but she protested.
"You have to promise me something, Yakko," her voice was low and urgent.
"Anything," he said sweetly.
"No matter what happens… you won't forget about me."
He laughed, "How could I forget about the minx who helped me make it all this way?"
"So you promise?"
"I do."
"Say the words."
"I promise that I won't forget you, Minerva."
"Ha ha ha ha," began a low sinister laugh that infiltrated their private moment.
Yakko's head shot to Minerva's desk chair that slowly began to spin forward revealing an older man smiling wickedly to the pair. Yakko immediately recognized the man though he had was clueless as to why he had been lurking in the shadows of the small office.
"Uh… good evening Mister Memlo," said Yakko uneasily glancing between the two people in the room. "Enjoying the midnight premier?" he asked figuring, at first, that it had to be a mistake. Memlo was just accidently in the room or, better yet, playing some sort of ill-conceived prank.
Memlo raised his brow, "I found it to be an uplifting performance from our own rising star!"
Yakko awkwardly cleared his. No, this was no accident. Something was wrong with the situation and it hung in the night air as thick as a heavy fog.
"What's… what's going on here?" he questioned looking back to Minerva who refused to meet his gaze. Why was she acting so strange?
"Oh don't worry Mister Yakko, you're just here for a littler business meeting."
"Well let's make this quick then. My mother will worry if I'm out past curfew," he joked in hopes to hide the nervous edge in his voice.
"That's what I like about you, you're always joking. You're a regular comedian. It's a rare gift you do realize?"
Yakko shrugged, "And yet the best gig I can get is apart of your company."
Memlo's eyes turned to slits, "Your plans to leave this studio will be nixed, forgotten, and thrown away. I hope this is not too inconvenient for you."
Yakko didn't think he sounded too regretful at all.
"And what if I don't? What if I just get the hell out of here anyway?"
He laughed once again in an awful raspy tone as Minvera lowered her head further.
Something was definitely not right.
"Tell me," began Memlo to the bewildered young actor, "what do you think of the cartoons?"
Yakko blinked before quickly answering the odd question, "Well who doesn't like those?"
"If you were to say… be one… what would he be like?" asked the older man.
Yakko pulled a face. What was this man going on about? His mind was racing in circles, but he straightened out his thoughts long enough to answer the peculiar question.
"I suppose a smart ass that couldn't keep his paws off a broad for more than halfa minute."
Then, as the man continued with his chilling laugh, he reached for something in his coat pocket.
"Welcome to the Animaniacs, Mister Yakko," he sneered.
In the next moment Memlo revealed a pistol that gleamed under the florescent lighting.
"What?" cried Yakko. He looked frantically to Minerva who glanced up to him. Her large eyes filled with more sorrow than he could imagine.
"I'm so sorry... Will."
She quickly parted from his side.
"What?" he cried again in a heart wrenching whisper.
"Yes well," continued Memlo seeming to admire the weapon in his hand, "this contract will however require some bloodshed."