A/N: Sorry for the long-ish wait, starting a new semester and all. This chapter's going to be in two parts, I'm just finishing the editing for the second, so it should be up in due time. This is where the 'T' rating comes in - yes, there's violence, please don't hate me for it!

This Chapter: Scratchansniff's Point of View

Next Chapter: Scratchansniff's Point of View

I watched with both interest and unease as the memory Yakko stared grimly at the men before him with an increasing amount of hatred in his eyes. I had never seen such an expression cross his face before, but even now I could tell he was going to characteristically let them make the first move. Brad Hart's partner – who I now knew to be called Terry – raised the dart gun level to Yakko's neck. He shot the dart and it missed its target by several meters, as Yakko no longer stood there. Brad and Terry looked around in confusion, and I found myself unintentionally following suit.

"He's over there," Dot told me, pulling lightly on my sleeve to get my attention and pointing behind the two cartoon hunters. There Yakko stood, the familiar sly grin forming on his face; yet an alien element of resentment mingled with it. The thought of an angry Yakko left me a little unsettled, though curious. As a p-sychiatrist, this was all very revealing.

Yakko poked both men in the back simultaneously, and they jumped in surprise. They spun around just in time to see him run off again at an impossible speed and disappear out of sight. Once more Dot pointed him out to me. He was sitting in a tree above Brad and Terry, swinging his legs and waiting for them to spot him. When they finally did, they let loose a barrage of darts. By the time the darts hit the tree, Yakko was once again gone. It went on like this for quite a while.

"Vhy didn't you just run that fast vhen they vere chasing you?" I asked Wakko and Dot, not exactly sure which one I was talking to but appreciating an answer either way.

"We didn't know we could," Wakko answered as if it were obvious. But however obvious he may have found it, it surprised me.

"Vhy not?"

"Because we'd only been drawn a couple of weeks ago. It hadn't occurred to us that we were any different from everyone else," Dot answered. "Yakko found out first." She waved a hand towards the memory version of her eldest brother.

"It's an instinct," Wakko added to clarify.

"I see," I said, pondering this new revelation. By this time, Yakko had changed his tactic. The dart guns were now empty and abandoned on the ground, and Terry was just barely missing Brad with numerous blind punches as Yakko covered the man's eyes with his gloved hands.

"Terry!" Brad yelled out desperately, trying to block the wild blows. "Terry, he's on your head, you nitwit!" Terry stopped in confusion, and I noted Yakko's smile when Terry aimed a blow at his own head. The eldest Warner leapt from his position and landed neatly on his feet, watching with satisfaction as Terry knocked himself out with the blow. Only he and Brad remained, and Brad was looking slightly more than nervous. The smile dropped from Yakko's features and he became dead serious as he faced the man.

"I don't want to watch this," Dot whispered, and she covered her eyes with a hand. I was more than a little confused. Yakko was beating this guy, wasn't he?

Out of nowhere, a dart flew from the trees, burying itself into Yakko's neck. The Warner ripped it out almost instantly, but some of the drug had already entered his system. He staggered and fell to all fours as five men rushed from the tree line, carrying guns that were probably packed with darts.

"What happened, boss?" One of the five asked.

"Nothing happened!" Brad snapped. He walked cautiously towards Yakko, who was still struggling to fight off unconsciousness on the ground. Brad produced a small, silver-coloured collar from his pocket, and before Yakko could make the slightest move, he clamped it around the cartoon's neck. By this time, Terry had woken up – albeit with a large purple bruise like a bull's-eye taking form on his forehead. Brad motioned to the five that had arrived, and one of the men took the butt of the gun he held and slammed it into Yakko's back, making him cry out and fall the rest of the way to the ground. Terry immediately snatched the cartoon roughly up and held him firmly to the spot, arms pinned to his sides in the man's big hands. The small amount of drugs that had made it into his system and the blow to the back was making him visibly unsteady, and he shook with every movement; but he somehow managed to retain a sort of defiance in his demeanour that still allowed him a sort of dignity.

Nonetheless, I felt something in my stomach jump. Brad had picked up an empty dart gun and was walking determinedly towards his uncooperative captive. I closed my eyes. Even so, I could hear the impact as Brad slammed the butt of the gun into Yakko's chest, and I felt in my veins the same hatred that was etched all over Yakko's features when I opened my eyes. The Warner hadn't even made a sound. I wanted to strangle the man; Wakko had buried his face in my shirt, and Dot had taken hold of my hand again. No matter how much seeing this was hurting me; it had to be hurting them a lot more. I began to regret ever getting so curious. But now that I was here, there was no other choice but to watch it all play through.