'And what would you like, sir?'

'A martini, shaken, not blown up.'

The bartender nodded and disappeared into the back room. Elmer Fudd sat on the barstool, and while waiting for a much needed drink he started on modifying his shotgun. Namely, attaching a fourth barrel to his weapon with some duct tape. By the time it was finished, the shaken and un-exploded martini was served.

'Rough day?' The bartender said.

'You betcha,' Fudd sighed, and spent the next few minutes drowning his sorrows. All around him, equally dissatisfied citizens drank with him. That was the main reason for this bar, really. To escape from harsh reality.

Suddenly the bartender shouted, 'everyone keep quiet!'

Everyone, respecting the wizened old dog, hushed up. They were glad they did. There was something on the television.

'Fellow country men, citizens of Looney World,' Marvin the Martian proclaimed on the screen, 'many of you already know me. Most think of me as a bloodthirsty tyrant.'

'However, I wish for only peace. Believe me, I could have annihilated you with missiles. But I choose not to. I am a believer in peace – '

'How the hell did this come on?' someone shouted.

'No idea, but it's on every channel!' cried another.

'Shut up!' snapped the bartender.

' – and offer you a chance in redemption. I will be giving a speech at ToonTown main square this evening at 7pm. If you want something more in your life, want Looney World to change, be there. I will not disappoint you.'

Marvin disappeared and the screen turned back to bloody news reports. Immediately the bar erupted into conversation.

'He's not crazy enough to give a speech in the open – '

'I'm telling you, that Martian's bonkers – '

'Maybe we should give him a chance to speak his mind – '

Suddenly one guy shouted, 'GET OUT OF HERE TOFF!'

Everyone's head swiveled round to the offending party, which was a rat-man who was clearly drunk. He was pointing at Elmer Fudd.

'TOFF, SCREW YER, GIT OUT!' The rat-man cried crazily. Immediately the bar fell into hushed silence.

'I SAID GIT OUT!' repeated the rat-man. 'YER NO GOOD ELMER FUDD – '

'You're drunk!' Fudd roared back. 'You're the one who should get out!'

'SCREW OFF!' replied the rat-man. Everyone else in the room took an automatic step back. The bar was soon to become very bloody, and there wasn't a thing they could do about it.

Count to ten, Fudd thought, feeling a rush of adrenaline.

'I SAID,' the rat-man bellowed, 'GIT OUT. YER GOOD FOR NOTHING! EVEN THE MARTIAN WUN – '

'Three,' said Fudd. The rat-man took out a knife and lunged towards him. Fudd the hand with the knife, smashed it onto the counter. Both objects were pulverized. Splinters flew out of the wood. Fudd grabbed an especially sharp one and while the rat-man was recovering, thrust his hand forward.

The splinter buried itself three centimeters into the rat's neck, then broke in two. Blood started to flow down the counter.

Time to go. Fudd grabbed his shotgun and left without another word. The last thing he heard was the rat's cries of agony.

Once outside, he received a text message, from Bugs. The message was curt and to the point, as usual.

Meet at the Global Mayor's office.

Fudd holstered his shotgun and walked to his destination. He still hadn't calmed down.

Bugs, cleanly dressed as ever, watched Fudd appear out of the darkness. Familiar dislike welled in his stomach when he saw him. Pill addictions, foolishness, short temper…Bugs felt nothing but disgust for this pathetic man.

'The assignment continues,' Bugs said, without bothering to greet his partner. 'The Global Mayor explained it very well. We are to continue in our attempts to kill the Martian.'

'Fair enough,' Fudd shrugged, trying to fell no guilt. Bugs studied him curiously.

'You might be interested to know that Lola Bunny is dead, by the way.'

'What?!'

'She was rather foolish really. Giving her address to the enemy and not suspecting him of being hostile to her at all – she deserved to die.'

'Who killed her?'

'Me,' Bugs replied.

Fudd was speechless.

'Are you…alright?' he said lamely, lost for words.

'Perfectly fine, actually,' Bugs said, at that moment, his index finger started twitching. It twitched back and forth uncontrollably for a few moments before Bugs land his hand on it. Gradually it stooped moving.

'As I said, I'm fine. Now listen. The best opportunity would be to kill him during the speech he is going to make this evening at Toon Town square. Obviously he won't come unprotected. But he'll be the most vulnerable at that time. The best way to do away with him is a bomb.'

'Why? Because the bomb will wipe out not only the Martian, but all his followers. As a bonus effect we'll make it seem like the Martian planted the bomb, so all those people sitting on the fence will cease to believe in the Martian, and will cease to believe that there will be any form of peace in Looney World. It's perfect.'

It certainly was devious. Fudd would have cackled at this in normal times, but now Bugs saw Fudd was less than animated. It was as if he was tired of all the violence and wanted everything to end.

But both of them knew it would not end. The violence would continue like a vicious cycle, as it had done since the beginning of time.

It's a Looney World, after all.

'There's a lot of things that could go wrong, wabbit,' Fudd muttered, returning to the plan. 'Marvin might be using a hologram to give his speech…'

'Do not worry. We have an associate, Road Runner, who hates the Martian as much as we do. In fact – get down.'

He said the last few words so calmly it almost didn't register, but then Fudd realized that there was a red dot on his chest. He threw himself to the floor and a high caliber bullet whizzed past his ear.

'Sniper!' Fudd shouted, running to a dumpster for cover, Bugs already ahead of him. There were two more shots, but none hit. The sniper was really amateur. Fudd let himself fall and slid the last few meters behind the dumpster.

Just then, Hector the bulldog, well known mercenary, appeared round the corner and took out his Glock. He aimed it at the two assassins.

Bugs darted forward, grabbed Hector's wrists and twisted. The gun fell. Hector swung a fist. Bugs ducked and a sniper's bullet that was meant for him hit Hector in the stomach instead.

Hector groaned, but he wasn't down yet.

'Wabbit! Get outta there!' Fudd yelled. Bugs did so, leaving Hector kneeling on the ground. Bracing himself against the wall, Fudd fired all four barrels.

There was a sound not unlike an atomic bomb exploding, and Hector's insides were strewn all over the street. He resembled a pastry cutter.

The sniper apparently thought the game was up, because Fudd saw a figure stand up on the roof of one of the opposite buildings. Then he ran. Bugs strided forward to try and get him in his sights, but the sniper was too far away. He disappeared.

Fudd lowered his shotgun and tried not to look at the mess that was once Hector. To his surprise, Bugs walked over the mess, removed one of his gloves and riffled around the gore, searching for something. Finally he held an object up; a fragment of a dollar bill.

'Well this confirms it. The Martian didn't send these men. He is too blinded by nobility to use money for recruiting people.'

'Alright then, who are they working for, Smarty pants wabbit?'

Bugs sighed. 'Hector was simply hired muscle. The sniper was his employer. I caught a glimpse of his face before he escaped.'

'Who was it?'

'It's an old acquaintance of yours. Sylvester.'

Fudd was stunned, yet again.

'His primary target was you. Looks like you have a problem on your hands.'

'Too true, wabbit,' Fudd sighed. 'I have a lot of problems lately.'

'So are you going to kill him now or later?'

'…'

'He's inexperienced. He just came back from a close brush with death and is still recovering. It'll be easy to take care of him.'

Fudd shuffled his feet, not replying. Suddenly Bugs grabbed him by the shoulder and slammed him against the dumpster.

'Now you listen to me,' Bugs said in a dead tone, ignoring Fudd's cry of 'Hey!'

'How many people have you killed, Fudd? Forty? Fifty? How many of them were younglings? Ten? You never felt conscience in the past. You actually took pleasure in killing.'

'Look, if this is about Shorty - ' Fudd grunted.

'It is not,' Bugs replied. 'The hatchet was buried between us when you came under the Global Mayor's protection. I am just trying to make a point.'

'Wabbit – '

'Shut up,' Bugs said. 'I assure you, when you killed all those people, you felt no remorse.'

'B - '

'I should know. I was there when you killed my son.'

'Y - '

'So do not expect me for one second to fall for your puppy dog eyes. I know you're faking, Fudd. You aren't turning over a new leaf. It is all pretense.'

'You're mad,' Fudd shouted, struggling against Bugs's grip. A second later he was lying face down, bleeding from the nose.

'Now go take care of Sylvester,' Bugs said coldly. 'It only takes one assassin to acquire a bomb. I will handle that.'

With that, he walked off, and, as usual, without a goodbye. Fudd stared after him seething, and for a moment his hand flew to his shotgun. One blast and that wabbit would be history.

But no. There were bigger fish to fry. Sylvester first. Fudd felt the monster inside him rise as he went to the building where Sylvester was, to acquire tracks that would lead him towards the young cat.

NB: This chapter is possibly the worst chapter in this fanfic so far. Sorry about that.