Note for returning readers: As of 12/2/2022, this chapter has had key details edited which may affect the context of certain scenes in future chapters. See end-of-chapter notes for details.


Dawn of October 31st, Lola slips out from the king-sized bed and struts over to the curtained, wall-length window of the penthouse. Pulling back the curtains, she admires the clear, multi-colored skies looming over the cityscape. Her enjoyment is interrupted as a billboard, standing at the border between North Quarter and the company's outer rung, suddenly bursts into pieces.

Bugs, roused from his slumber, groggily mutters, "Lola, what was that noise?"

Swiftly closing the curtains, she turns and smiles sheepishly. "Nothing important. Just some stray delinquents causing trouble. The police can handle it. Want me to grab coffee from the lounge?"

"Of course. And grab some wheat bread, too, while you're at it." The alarm clock buzzes. "Now if you'll excuse me, I gotta get ready for a very important meeting."

Bugs exits the room, and Lola turns to peek through the curtains again. The lack of incendiary matter from the destruction leads her to a worrying suspicion as to the culprit. His little demonstration last night barely scratched the surface. This is him showing his true power.


In the Acme Grand Hotel, Duane is shaken awake at the sound of a distant explosion. He looks over to the window, beside which his boss and companion, Mr. Wolfgang, is in an archer's stance. "Wyatt, what are you doing?" he asks.

"Getting some target practice in this morning," Wyatt answers, breaking position to close the window. "So, should I call room service, or would you rather eat out?"

Glancing at the clock, Duane asks, "It's a bit early for breakfast, isn't it?"

"Huh. So it is. Well, we can get a little sightseeing done. And after we eat, we'll go shopping for your costume."

"'Costume'? You don't intend for me to attend the Fête with you, do you? I heard you over the phone with Mr. Bunny; you said you were more than enough."

"I can change my mind, can't I? 'Sides, I want you to go out and enjoy life whenever the opportunity arises. If I left you here all alone, I'd be going against everything I worked for." The larger wolf smiles. "Now, get yourself ready. We're heading out."


Later, the sun sets on Acme City, and back in apartment 203, Wolf & Coyote are nearly ready to party.

Ralph's outfit, a black tuxedo vest and pants, is made complete with a black-and-red silk cape to drive home its vampiric appearance. He waits by the door when Pepé enters from the bedroom. The skunk is dressed in a similarly formal manner, bearing a Victorian-style vest and dress shirt with a black, flowing cape, but the silvery white half-mask brings it all together. "Nice costume," the wolf comments with a subtle layer of sarcasm. "It suits you."

Pepé, pretending not to notice, grins proudly. "Merci, M. Loup. Le Fantôme de l'Opéra has always resonated with me. A lonely, misunderstood genius who would go to the ends of the earth for his love."

"You mean a freaky sociopath who stalks and kills for his obsession," Ralph retorts. "Have you even read the book?"

"I assure you, I most certainly have. But it appears someone has only read half of the story, and I am certain it's not me."

Ralph is about to rip the skunk a new one when Wile's presence cuts him off. Wearing a magenta blouse, partially unbuttoned to expose his chest and midriff, and hip-hugging brown cargo pants, the coyote is pulling off his innate sex appeal effortlessly. His wide-brimmed fedora, fingerless gloves, and torn-up leather duster coat add an extra bit of edge to the ensemble. Most unusually, in his hands, he wields a strange, crossbow-like contraption with a bear trap at the front end. "Um, Wile, are you sure you can get that past security?" Ralph questions him.

Inspecting the object, Wile shrugs. "I haven't put all the parts in yet, so it's just a fancy prop at the moment. But if I impress someone over there, I might be able to cut a business deal." He adds, "Something I never realized 'til now, but ACME products are pretty expensive. Since Dad and I got cut off from ACME's employee roster, I've had to buy straight out of pocket, but it hasn't been easy. The two of us can barely make a living as is, and I want to fix that somehow."

A twinge of guilt welling up inside him, he replies, "Wiles, I really appreciate it, but you don't have to do all that. I'll work harder for the both of us, and then you can afford all the cool stuff you wa—"

"I think it's a great idea!" Pepé cuts in. "The All Hallow's Fête invites entrepreneurs and geniuses from all over the world. You'll surely find one who's interested. I thought about joining you to promote my own business, but I already have plans with Sylvester and the kids. Oh, I have an idea!" He hands Wile a small batch of cards inscribed with his contact information. "Why don't you put a word in for me? We're already work partners, as far as I'm aware, so you can, as they say, faire d'une pierre deux coups."

Wile inspects the cards, then pockets them. "I'll help out, but what if ACME finds out? I'd rather not put you at greater risk than you already are."

"If I didn't trust you to protect me, I wouldn't be asking you this favor." He gives a sympathetic smile. "If anything happens to me, I'll be safe knowing my friends will be there to help."

"Now that that's settled," Ralph breaks into the conversation, wrapping one arm around Wile's, "it's time we start heading out. Can't let the night escape us, can we?" He drags the coyote out the door before any further responses can be made. "¡Hasta luego, Phantom Le Pew!"


Up in the northeast part of Acme City, the Acme Grand Hotel is bustling with life as the All Hallow's Fête takes over the building. At the ground floor, the ballroom is decorated with all manners of Halloween-themed decor, from gothic chandeliers lined with skull-shaped candle holders to garlands of obsidian bats flying among diamond stars. However, even the gaudiest of adornments cannot completely hide the ballroom's Ancient Egyptian inspirations, with its hieroglyphics carved into the corner pillars and the flat-colored murals of pharaohs, priests, and animal-headed gods. The clash of aesthetics is seen by the attending crowds as charming in its audacious oddity.

"Welcome, Wolf & Coyote, to the All Hallow's Fête," the rooster bouncer greets the duo. "Come right in!"

Ralph and Wile E. step into the ballroom and take in the sights and sounds. Refreshment tables line the walls, creating a wide path leading to the dance floor. On the far end is a stage, from which a band of musicians fill the atmosphere with music. Small clusters of costumed partygoers standing near the entrance become quieter upon their entry, their conversations reduced to hushed whispers accented by suspicious glances. The two don't have to guess the question on their minds: What is a pair of outlaw mutts doing in the most prestigious event of the season?

"That rabbit's either lost his mind, or he's baiting us," the red wolf mutters. A crooked grin slowly forms across his muzzle. "If that's how he wants it, then we'll give 'em something worth talking about. We'll light up the night!"

"Ralph, I don't have anything against whatever you're plotting," Wile interjects as he grabs a plastic plate, "but if you're going to do it, at least let me eat something first."

Snapped out of his boastful posturing, Ralph catches up to Wile by the refreshments table. "Of course! Can't party on an empty stomach."

As the wolf is preoccupied with filling his plate, Wile catches sight of a familiar face and approaches them. "Cal, I can't believe you're… here?"

His voice trails off into bewilderment at the sight of his new friend. On one ear, Calamity is wearing an earpiece-like device. Beside him is his trademark tablet, supported by some sort of anti-gravity attachment. On the tablet's dark screen is a pixelated, circular face, outlined in bright cyan. The face flickers into text letters as the device starts speaking.

"Oh, Wile E., what a pleasant surprise! You're probably wondering what all this is about. I figured speech would be more convenient for most folks, so I made some modifications to my communication device by adding a text-to-speech feature. This earpiece helps to strengthen my neural connection to it, among other things." Cal raises a finger to his lips as if to shush someone. "Volume control is still under maintenance, so best not to speak of private matters out loud, okay?"

"Right. Though I gotta say, I never expected you had your brain wired to this thing. I always thought you just typed really fast."

Calamity snickers. "It's not something many folks know about, not even within ACME. I came up with the idea in high school, but didn't build the prototype until college. In fact, it was at a science fair at uni where I met Mr. Bunny. He was so impressed that he gave me a job on the spot!"

"That is impressive," Wile praises. "But what's a tech whiz doing in the Chemistry Department? Not to knock on your smarts, but it does seem a bit outside of your comfort zone."

"I'm not certain myself." His cheeks flushed, he adds, "But I get to see Fifi more often, so I don't see anything wrong with it."

Wile's ears perk up at mention of the name. Fifi La Fume is a colleague and childhood friend of Calamity's—and crush, too, judging by his bashful expression. Though still a novice in the chemistry field, she shows much promise and is predicted to eventually become a head researcher of the department. According to Cal, anyway. The more intriguing aspect of her is her similarity to Pepé. Both skunks with a mastery over chemical substances. There's no way that's a coincidence.

"Speaking of Fifi, I have a friend who she might be interested in." Wile slips out a business card and shows it to Cal. "Pepé's an expert chemist and business partner of ours. He's also doing research on the you-know-what, so you two might be able to help him."

Taking the card and inspecting it closely, Calamity nods in affirmation. "We'll look into arranging a meeting with him. Thanks for the hookup."

"It's nothing special. Hey, would you mind if I showed you something, from one inventor to another?"


When Ralph turns to face Wile, his face turns to shock and disappointment when he finds nothingness in his place. Aw, shit, where'd he run off to now? No thanks to him, I'm stuck with having to deal with these stuck-up moneybags by myself. He gobbles up a deviled egg while observing the crowds. Maybe if I eavesdrop a little bit, I can find something juicy to sink my teeth into.

As if by fate, a distant clamor rings into his ears. Somewhere among the noise, one voice stands out with its bold, playful energy. Ralph sneaks closer towards its source, catching a bit of the conversation along the way.

"Lycopolis may be a weapons factory, but our greatest source of pride is in its adherence to preserving remnants of this world's history and finding new ways of bringing that history to our daily lives in the present."

When he finally finds its owner, his eyes widen at the sight of them. Controlling the masked crowd is the biggest wolf he's ever seen, in more ways than one. Donning an Egyptian pharaoh's dress and makeup, the large wolf exudes charisma and power in a manner that can only be described as godlike. He does resemble Sam a bit, with that yellow fur and round gut of his. And those biceps…!

Ralph turns away to hide his flustered expression. Goddammit, I am not going down that rabbit hole again! Just gotta focus on finding Wile E. and—

"You know, instead of staring like a dumbstruck fool, you could speak to me directly."

With a yelp, Ralph jumps back in response to the larger wolf's voice. Seeing him up close, he can clearly see his golden eyes. He can also smell a faint, airy scent that's almost nonexistent; even at his sharpest, Ralph wouldn't have been able to sense him sneaking up from behind. His heart starts racing again. Think about Wile E., think about Wile E… "Sorry, sir, but I'm taken," he blurts out.

The pharaoh blinks in bewilderment, then bursts out laughing. "You're a handsome young man, but that wasn't what I wanted to ask. Word has it you're part of some hitman group, is that right?"

"Um, yes, that's right. Ralph Wolf of Wolf & Coyote. We went through a few name changes, so everyone just calls us that for simplicity's sake. And we're not just mercenaries—not most of the time, unfortunately. But to the point. What does a fat cat like you want with me anyway?"

"This 'fat cat' knows a thing or two about mercenaries—military or otherwise—and would like to make an offer."

He raises a brow. "What kind of offer?"

"Before we start business, allow me to introduce myself. I'm Wyatt Wolfgang, CEO and founder of Lycopolis. Tell me, are you familiar with the Three Kingdoms Collection?"

Hearing the name of the company and collection brings back a recollection from his not-date date with Wile E. in A.L.M.O.S.T. "You mean the one with the Zhuge Liang repeating crossbow? That Lycopolis?"

"The very one. ACME Corp may be distributing and manufacturing them for this side of the globe, but at the end of the day, those are still Lycopolis' work. Fun fact: I designed and built the crossbow's prototype with my own two hands, with a little help from a fellow history buff."

Ralph is at a loss for words. "You mean you… But if you're able to do all that, why turn to ACME?"

"Lycopolis may be among the world's biggest weapons manufacturers, but even we have to outsource on occasion. But more importantly…" His voice lowers to a menacing growl. "…that rabbit has something that belongs to me, and I want it back."

Recognizing where the conversation is going, the red wolf asks, "What's in it for me?"

"You're hitmen, aren't ya? If you're ever in need of supplies, I can lend you some, free of charge. Think of it as a sponsor deal, but more under the table."

Ralph scratches at his chin, recalling an earlier conversation. Wile's been worried about money, and having an affordable means of acquiring weapons and ammo could help their business in the long run. Provided the fat bastard doesn't screw them over, this is a win-win situation. "Shall we discuss the details later in private?"


While the two wolves are chatting things out, Wile E. is once again alone, taking samples from every platter within his reach. Cal was called over by a coworker earlier, cutting short their discussion on his prototype. Separated from both his partner and friend, the loneliness sinks in, which he tries to fill through the pleasures of food.

As he reaches for a third helping of deviled eggs, he spots a curious figure from the corner of his eye. A tawny-furred wolf—fox?—dressed in an ivory knight's armor and cape, the upper half of his face covered by a white Venetian mask. Slung over his shoulder is a sheath for a rather large broadsword—an impressive feat, considering his small, scrawny build. The fox-wolf is staring vacantly at the refreshments, his hands clutching at the sheath's belt. Wile can even hear a faint stomach rumbling coming from him. Somehow, the stranger reminds him of his younger self: small, starving, and alone.

"Hey, kid, if you're hungry, you can take some of mine," Wile cuts in, holding out his plate. "The eggs are especially tasty."

The fox-wolf looks up at him, confused and a bit displeased by the coyote's sudden interference. "Don't take pity on me cus I look like some lost brat. I'm old enough to make my own decisions, thank you very much."

Wile is taken aback, not just by the stranger's rudeness, but his voice. From this pint-sized figure is a rich baritone that's about as deep as his own voice, if not moreso. Once the shock wears off, however, his own frustration starts taking over. "Do what you want, big guy, but I'm not going to stand around and let someone starve when there's perfectly good food right in front of them. I won't leave you alone until you eat something."

This time, it's the fox-wolf who's caught off-guard. Even covered by a mask, Wile can sense the daggers in his eyes. The two of them glare at each other, neither budging for an indeterminate stretch of time, until finally the smaller one caves, swiping a deviled egg from Wile's plate and eating it. "Not bad," the fox-wolf mutters. "Usually, even the mere thought of eating makes me sick, but your stubborn attitude was even more nauseating to deal with. It reminds me of someone I know who's even worse about it."

Feeling an odd sense of pride in this achievement, he advises, "Maybe that person is onto something. I don't know what your relationship with food is like, but if you ease yourself into it, you might be able to enjoy it more."

"That's what he said, too." Taking a cut of fruit, he continues. "He'd be like, 'If you don't eat your meal, I'll just eat it right in front of you, and I'll enjoy every last morsel.' The way he goes about everything so casually pisses the ever-loving crap out of me!" He pauses to gulp down a pig-in-a-blanket, and his demeanor softens. "But he's taken care of me all this time, so it's hard to despise him. Annoying or not, he's family to me."

The fox-wolf is about to reach for another morsel, but instead has the whole plate thrusted upon him. "You take it," Wile insists. "I can always grab more myself. Do whatever you want with it, but don't let it go to waste."

The small stranger hesitantly takes it. "I suppose I should thank you, but I don't even know your name. You approach a random stranger without even bothering to introduce yourself. What are you, feral?"

Eye twitching, he says, "The name's Wile E. Coyote. And you?"

Puffing up his chest, he answers, "Duane Mutterland. The handsome and handy assistant to the Lord of Lycopolis, Wyatt Wolfgang. And however old you think I am, I can assure you I'm much older."

Such a pain in the ass! "So what does Lycopolis do, anyway?"

"I suppose Lycopolis' name isn't as well-known in these parts, but internationally, we rival ACME Corp in weapons and military supply manufacturing. Though Wyatt's looking to break into new ground, both in location and product."

A lightbulb goes off in Wile's head in that moment. "New product, you say? Well, as it turns out, I have a friend who's looking to expand his clientele." He flashes a business card. "Pepé is a perfumer by trade, but he's also a master with explosives and chemical warfare, and even dabbles in medical science. I would say he's the type of guy your boss is looking for."

Listening intently, Duane takes the card and reads it. "'Pepé Le Pew'? Kind of an odd name, if you ask me. But if he's as skilled as you say he is, I'll relay this over to the boss."

"Also, I'd like to meet with him personally, if possible. See, there's this weapon I made…" He releases the contraption from its holster and displays it. "It's not finished yet, but I'd like to hear his thoughts on it."

The wolf eyes it skeptically. "What the hell is it?"

"It's like a crossbow, but it launches bear traps instead of arrows. It's going to be the ultimate hunting tool–when it gets approved, of course."

Duane takes a moment to ponder, then replies, "I think it looks stupid, but the boss might get a kick out of it. According to the event schedule, the Hunter's Moonlight Dance will start in an hour. That'll be your best time to find him. I guess I'm stuck with you until then."

"Are you afraid of being alone?"

"Absolutely not!" Duane blurts out. Embarrassed, he clears his throat to regain his composure. "But I do appreciate having someone around in the middle of this borefest. And you'll need someone to stand in for you when you screw up your pitch."

Between Duane's pouting and bashful response, Wile can't help but crack a smile. "I can grab us seconds if you'd like."

He bites his lip, then says, "Fine, do what you want. But save some of those eggs for me."


Meanwhile, in the West Quarter, the neighborhood streets are flooded with crowds of costume-wearing kids and parents, running from door to door in their tireless quest for sugary treasures. Further north, the streets are quieter, and the street where the funeral home is located is silent, save for the cold autumn breeze blowing by. Inside the facility, Herman is busy with late-night administrative duties.

"Yes, preparations for the Dia de los Muertos party are complete," he says to the phone on his shoulder. "All you have to do is arrive." Pause. "Of course Estela can bring her home cooking. For a party of this size, you can never have too many refreshments! Hasta luego, Mr. Gonzales."

He hangs up and exits through the back door, into the cemetery. The moon shines upon the gloomy burial grounds, revealing the shadows hidden beneath the aging tombstones. Many of the grave markers are stout and simple in design, but scattered across the property are statues of angels and crosses, along with the occasional crypt or sarcophagus. He strolls peacefully past the graves, breathing in the crisp, chilly air as he looks on the horizon with admiration.

The silence is broken by a distant clamor, accompanied by a sound which sets him at edge. He rushes towards the noise, catching more of the conversation along the way.

"Old Eggy's holding onto the Don's last treasure. If we can find it on his corpse, we'll be able to carry on with his plan."

"But what if he doesn't have it?"

"Why wouldn't he have it? Don Henery trusts Roost with everything, including his secrets."

A short distance away, he finds a group of suited avians opening up a casket from a dug-up grave he recognizes as belonging to Eggbert Roost Sr. Scattered across the ground are flattened flowers, knocked-over candles, and stomped-on, dirt-covered letters and photos. Herman's face contorts into a scowl as the sclera in his eyes turn black.

"Graverobbers," he calls out to them, his voice booming in a menacing manner. "Do you not know of the crimes you're committing? To desecrate the resting grounds of the dead is to bring about their wrath."

He lifts his hands, flexing his fingers as if controlling invisible strings, and slowly, the corpse of Eggbert rises from his grave. The rooster's corpse turns its head to one of the robbers, and its beak opens, a deeper, more monstrous voice emitting from it. "GET OUT!"

The robbers, trembling at the gruesome sight, let out a chorus of screams and run off, leaving their shovels behind. Once the area has turned silent again, Herman lowers his hands, gently returning the deceased back into its resting state. "I apologize for having to use your body like this," he says, sighing with regret. "I'll clean this spot up and give you an offering as repentance. Would you accept that?"

A rustle of grass rings in his ears, and he turns around. Nothing. "Hm. Must have been the wind." Before he makes another move, he spots a small, bespectacled face emerging from behind a tombstone. Immediately recognizing the face, his eyes turn back to normal. "It's alright now, Eggbert," he reassures him. "You're safe with me."

Eggbert Jr.–known among his peers as "Egghead"–steps out of hiding. With a slight quiver in his voice, he asks, "Mr. Blakesley, are you a necromancer?"

Herman lets slip a gentle laugh. "I may be a guardian of the dead, but I cannot truly revive them. What you witnessed here was hardly more advanced than ventriloquism—parlor tricks, basically. As for how, I prefer not to divulge secrets."

Egghead eyes him skeptically, causing the mortician to cave in. "I suppose I can reveal a little something. The specific details are complicated and unknown even to me, but the simplest explanation is that I was gifted with what mortals would call 'magic'." He points up at the stars. "Just as the cosmos gifted Sapients with intelligence and consciousness equated with the human soul, so, too, did my unique abilities originate."

"You used the word 'mortals'," Egghead comments. "Does that mean you're a…"

"'Deity' was but a mere status which the people of ancient times thrust upon me. Immortal or not, I am no more or less Sapient in nature than anyone else. Now then, let's get you home before your mother starts worrying."


The social festivities continue in the Grand Hotel ballroom, and as the clock counts down to the big occasion, the canines of Lycopolis and Wolf & Coyote manage to find each other.

"I see you've made a new friend," Ralph points out, his gaze on Duane. "Mind introducing me?"

"This is Duane," Wile answers. "He's Mr. Wolfgang's assistant."

Slithering away to catch up, Wyatt sees the coyote and fox-wolf and cracks a smile. "Ain't this a fine coincidence, us meeting here like this?" To Wile, he adds, "I hope Duane didn't cause you too much trouble."

"We had a rough start, but I think we hit it off well. I even made sure the kid's well-fed."

Duane crosses his arms, visibly annoyed. "Bastard wouldn't leave me alone 'til I caved. He's lucky I was feeling merciful at the time."

"Merciful enough to plow through eight servings?" Wile asks smugly. Duane only replied with a huff.

"I pity you," Ralph whispers to Wyatt, "for having to put up with that brat."

"He's got a cranky demeanor, but he's a good guy at heart," Wyatt replies. "Duane doesn't warm up to people easily, so the fact that your partner could break him out of his shell means a lot."

"You mean to tell me that this is him in a good mood?"

"More or less. He'll get better the more he's used to you. But if he misbehaves, don't hesitate to flick his forehead; that tends to shut him up."

The levity of the moment is interrupted when the dimming of the lights causes the crowd to go silent. A spotlight shines on the stage, upon which Lola stands behind the mic, with Bugs by her side. "May we have your attention please?" Lola commands the audience. "Thank you all for coming to this year's All Hallow's Fête. Everyone here…" Spotting Wolf & Coyote, she briefly mutters, "almost everyone," then continues as normal. "…has contributed to our wonderful city, whether it be through collaboration with our company or through cooperation with our community. Your donations and assistance have allowed our city to be a safer and happier place that offers every Sapient the freedom to pursue any opportunity their heart desires. Before we start our Hunter's Moonlight Dance, a word from Bugs."

Lola steps aside, and Bugs takes the mic. "Thank you, thank you. Those of you who have attended our city's science museum in the past month might be aware of our most recent subject of research, the extraterrestrial substance known as Illudium. You also might have noticed where the display was placed. 'Out of the entire museum, why choose the alchemy exhibition room in the Chemistry wing?' you might ask. The answer lies in the quote on the back wall."

Hazy, fragmented images of the dark room flash through Wile's psyche, including that of the back wall. "Man is a microcosm… because he is an extract from all the stars and planets… and so he is their quintessence."

"Through our study of Illudium, we seek to discover and deepen our connection with the universe as we continue to explore its many mysteries. It's not an easy task, but we are not alone in our journey. Here tonight, I introduce to you my comrade from the cosmos, make way for Queen Aset!"

A second spotlight snaps on over the front entrance. Then, as if from thin air, a tall, feminine rabbit appears. Striking lilac eyes framed in gold liner, silvery white hair, and midnight black fur, her ethereal beauty stuns all those who first witness her. Donning a strapless dress of translucent white and a gilded tiara with a red disk-like gem cradled between two curved horns, she resembles the ancient royalty of Egypt. Step by step, she walks across the room, her towering presence parting the crowd like the Red Sea.

Standing before the stage, the strange rabbit turns to speak to the crowd, her commanding voice able to carry itself across the room without need for a microphone. "Sapients of Acme City, I am Queen Aset. My race, the L'nghatiikh, hails from a faraway place, far beyond any galaxy known to Earth thus far. ACME Corp is working alongside my people in the research of Illudium, sharing our knowledge and resources to further their advances. But our goal is not as cryptic as he makes it out to be.

"My kind have observed the state of this planet for thousands of years, and find the current state of affairs rather… unfortunate. The Homo sapiens, in their arrogance, have wreaked havoc upon your ancestors' habitats and forced you to live on a slowly dying planet. Out of concern for the well-being of my Sapient friends, I have offered my assistance to Mr. Bugs Bunny, working together towards our ultimate goal: to create a new home for Sapientkind, one which will properly habilitate every species and individual. A new Earth where technology coexists with nature, a city-planet which we call 'Project Acmetropolis'."

"I smell bullshit," Ralph mutters under his breath. He looks over to the larger wolf beside him. Gone is Wyatt's usual lighthearted demeanor, replaced with a serious expression and stone-cold eyes hiding a burning fury. That's the look of a vengeful spirit if I ever saw one. He recalls something the wolf told him, about Bugs having something that belongs to him. Judging by his reaction to the L'nghatiikh queen, there's more to this than meets the eye.

"And so, to start our grand occasion, Mr. Bunny and I shall have the first dance." Aset holds out her hand for Bugs, and the two take to the dance floor. The music is a bit unusual for a party which, until this point, was a typical stuffy soiree, mixing alien synth-like sounds with gentle classical instruments to create a waltz number that is both gentle and intense.

Gradually, others join in, and the dance floor is thriving with couples stepping and twirling to the music. Ralph, in a burst of excitement, rushes to Wile and drags him along. "C'mon, Wiles, let's dance!"

Standing on the dance floor where everyone can see them, Wile's heart starts throbbing. "Ralph, I don't really know how to dance," he whispers to the red wolf.

"It'll be fine," Ralph reassures him. "Just put this hand here…" He rests one of Wile's hands on his shoulder, then wraps his own arm across the coyote's waist. "…and follow my lead."

The two awkwardly make their first steps, with Wile still learning the basic motions and rhythm. Under Ralph's guidance, however, he quickly catches on, and the duo, now synchronized, light up the dance floor with each passionate step. Completely enveloped in the ecstasy of the music and movement, all of his initial worries are wiped from his mind, and only one thought exists: I wish this moment can last forever.

By midnight, the Dance—and thus, the Fête—draws to a close. One comparatively dull closing ceremony later, the ballroom starts to grow empty as people trickle out. Among the few people left are the Wolf & Coyote duo. "So, how was it?" Ralph asks playfully.

Taking a second to process the question, Wile answers, "It was… a lot of fun, actually. And dancing with you, I realized something… You're a bit short for a wolf, aren't you?"

Ralph's brows furrow in anger. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, Wolfgang's pretty tall, and—"

"Wyatt's a freak of nature by wolf standards! And I'm not that short."

"Sorry, sorry. I just… when we were dancing, with you next to me… it felt nice. Especially when you have such a soft waist…"

"Wile, I swear, I am going to—"

"Wait… Shit, I forgot to show Wolfgang my invention!" Sighing heavily, he mutters, "Goddammit, I missed my chance to prove something of myself. Just my luck."

Ralph, hearing the distress in his partner's words, slips a hand into his pocket and digs out a business card. "Maybe you still have one. Wyatt and I were talking business, and we exchanged numbers. He and the pipsqueak are gonna stay in town for a while, so we can set something up."

Overwhelmed by emotion, Wile squeezes the wolf in his arms. "This is amazing! You're the best."

Ralph, feeling his bones crack from the tight embrace, could only croak out, "You're welcome."


Outside of the ballroom, Duane and Wyatt are walking over to the elevators at the end of the hall. "We should go back, if only to give Ralph and Wile a proper farewell," Duane pleads. "They might get the wrong impression of us, Wile especially."

"No need to worry, big guy. I gave 'em my number, so they know where to call us," Wyatt replies. "Besides, I'd rather not run into any troublesome folks along the way."

They reach the elevators, but just as Wyatt's thumb is barely touching the button, a tall, dark shadow looms over the two. "Leaving without wishing your mother goodnight, Upuaut?" a female voice calls to him.

Without turning around, Wyatt answers matter-of-factly, "No hard feelings, Aset, but the day I call you 'Mother' is the day pigs fly."

"Fair enough. I never expected you to respect me as your brother Anpu did. Your loyalty lies with the Pharaohs, and with them it lies dead."

He glances back just briefly enough to acknowledge the alien's existence and nothing more. "Enough crap. What are you here for?"

"Can't a mother check in on her children every now and then?" With a hint of amused condescension, she adds, My, my, you really have grown a lot these past five thousand years, Upuaut! Same for you, Duamutef. I'm glad that my children are still healthy and happy as ever."

A tinge of agitation in his voice, Duane whispers to Wyatt, "Ignore her. She's just looking to rile us up—"

"Yeah, we are happy. Much happier now than we ever had with you, Aset. Now that we're free from your tyrannical rule, Duane and I are doing much better."

Aset bursts out in laughter. "So the Pharaoh's pet barks back. You think you're free? When I have complete rule over this planet, you will regret saying those words."

Smirking, Wyatt retorts, "I won't regret a thing. Why? Cus I know you'll never succeed. As for how, I'll let Fate decide. Good luck with your little business plan, Tyr'ahnee." The elevator doors open, and he and Duane step in, turning around to catch a glimpse of Queen Aset's furious gaze before it disappears.


AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hello again! Back again with a new chapter, now with double the plot! I considered splitting it up to make it more easily consumable, but I couldn't find a good breaking point, and the chapter number lined up too perfectly, hence this monster of a text.

To discuss a bit about my thoughts during the work process, since the previous chapter shifted the focus a bit more towards Ralph, I went for a similar route here (or tried to, anyway; some scenes still skewed towards Wile's perspective). I also shone a bit more light on the newly introduced characters, with a bit of foreshadowing of their possible involvement. I'd be lying if I said I don't adore Duane, Wyatt, and Herman, but I am aware of most fanfic readers' wariness towards OCs, so I'm taking special care not to let them steal too much of the spotlight. As such, I predict that some chapters in the immediate future will have their presence downplayed while other parts of the plot take the forefront.

Onto the obligatory trivia! While working on this chapter, I was looking a bit into various Japanese voice actors' character roles, thinking about how W&C would be like if it was adapted into an anime with a JP dub. Duane's voice and personality were inspired by me thinking, "What if he was more like Hans Christian Andersen from Fate/Extra CCC?" He was originally a more passive and uke-like character, but giving him Takehito Koyasu's voice and a more abrasive demeanor makes him more interesting, IMO.

As of this typing, I've also mentally casted Shin-ichiro Miki as Pepé and considering Nobunaga Shimazaki for Ralph. (Basically, I'm casting my FGO husbando collection.) As for English voices, I persistently imagine Wile's dialogue being spoken with Tech E. Coyote's voice (or something similar), so I might as well give Keith Michael Richardson the role there.

Another small bit of trivia I almost forgot to add: the frequent mention of deviled eggs is a minor in-joke of sorts on my end. Early on in the draft, I wrote an entire scene from Miss Prissy's point of view, but decided to cut it because it ruined the pacing and didn't offer all that much in the long run. The only thing from the cut content you need to know is that Missy Prissy's Diner was one of the caterers for the Fête.

Well, that's enough rambling for now. I'll see you in the next chapter!

12/2/2022 UPDATE: Made several edits throughout the chapter, many of them minor (changes to dialogue, wording, etc.). Most important, however, is the nature of the alien queen's reveal. Something bugged me about the scene for a really long time, but only in the past few days did I find a possible solution for it. I was worried about how much I would have to change, but while going over the draft I noticed that the edits would be easier to apply than I thought. That said, I feel like this particular detail alteration will affect how future chapters featuring/mentioning her would turn out, so I'm going to put a big ol' header note for any returning readers.