Again, I stress the need for reviews. I am aware the story is a bit crappy and therefore I give everyone full authorization to flame me. Just as long as it is honest. Remember, you can still review if not logged in.

'So tell me Tom,' Bugs inquired, 'why the bloody hell would you go into the employ of the Martian? You do know he is going to destroy this world.'

'No he isn't,' Tom took a step forward, dropping the knives. 'He's going to save it.'

'By destroying it?'

'Ever heard of Noah's ark?' Tom said

'I never thought someone like you would be interested in the fate of the world.'

'I used to be like that,' Tom replied and suddenly his eyes shined with a keen light. He looked half-mad.

'Marvin the Martian…is a visionary. Even if you are merely in his presence…he will make you complete. He will let you see what is missing in your life.'

'He's brainwashed you, in other words. Using some Martian technology.'

'Believe what you want to believe, Bugs. But the Martian has imbued me with a power. The power of elasticity. My body is essentially like rubber. Bullets just bounce off.'

Tom walked over to his coat and pulled out a Glock. A crude weapon, Bugs reflected.

'Any last questions, before I kill you? Unless, of course, we are on the same side. The Martian told me there was a traitor in the Global Mayor's administration.'

'Well, you know me,' Bugs pleasantly said. 'Even if I was really the traitor, I would still kill you. After all, there would be a risk I would be found out if I helped you. Doing things like that is just unprofessional.'

Tom shrugged. 'You're an asshole, Bugs. I wouldn't mind killing you.' Then he fired the Glock.

Bugs stepped to one side and the bullet sailed an inch past him. He carefully readjusted his tie as he stepped back to face his opponent.

'How do you do, it, Bugs?' Tom asked. 'How do you dodge bullets?'

'A combination of fast reaction time, reflexes and careful observation,' Bugs shrugged. 'Nothing to it, just a little training.'

Tom grinned. 'It doesn't matter. Jerry doesn't need bullets.'

Bugs felt something moving beneath his suit…

Global Mayor Porky Pig made up his mind. Neither of his two hitmen were trustworthy. Either one of them could be a mole. Therefore he needed to add third hitman into the equation. There was another problem with that, though. That third hitman could just as easily be a mole as well.

So he needed to select a special hitman. Porky walked over to the videoscreen and tapped a few buttons. A few words popped up on the screen.

CALLING…VENUS

BY THE WAY, WHAT HAPPENS IF DEATH ASKS LIFE FOR ONE APPLE?

Porky ignored the Daily Riddle feature, and patiently waited for the person on the other end to pick up.

She did.

'Hello, there, Mrs. Webster.'

'Call me Granny,' the wizened old woman snapped.

'Granny – I'm afraid I require your assistance,'

'Assistance?!', Granny shrilled. 'My planet needs assistance! Every since I moved to Venus problems have been springing up everywhere! No water, too much heatwaves…'

'I just o-o-o-o-o-one small favor,' Porky pleaded, purposely using his stutter.

'What?'

'I need one of your hitmen. My administration is compromised. As you probably know, we are under threat from Mars. I desperately need a trustworthy hitman now.'

Granny looked skeptical.

'Please, Granny. Our p-p-p-p-p – ah – p-p-planet has helped your in the past. Who was the one who sent aid after the great Star Misalignment in 2000? Or the time when Taz the Destroyer chanced upon your planet, but we sent some of our own mercenaries to combat him?'

Granny thought for a while.

'Fine,' she spat. 'One hitman. When do you want him delivered?'

'Right n-n-n-n-now,' Porky stuttered, looking at his watch.

5:17. Less than an hour left.

Coyote made a swipe, but Fudd fired the shotgun. Although having now effect on the behemoth, the recoil catapulted him out of Coyote's reach.

However the recoil sent Fudd crashing through a wall and into the local subway station. Commuters scattered.

Coyote arrived, a mad gleam in his eyes.

'You cannot kill me,' he grinned madly. Fudd launched another blast, and he was hurled past the track to the other side of the station.

'It is inevitable,' the criminal drawled, taking his time to walk to Fudd. 'By the way, that is a nice quote.'

Fudd just lay where he was, the supposedly useless shotgun lying on his lap.

Coyote walked closer.

'Wait,' Fudd barked.

Coyote stopped, an amused smirk on his face.

'Okay, you can go,' Fudd said after a pause.

Shaking his head, Coyote stepped down onto the track, which was in the way between him and his target.

'Ding dong. Your final Destination has arrived,' Fudd suddenly said.

'Mmm?' Coyote looked round and saw that there was an incoming train heading straight for him. There was no time for him to get out of the way. The train crashed into him full force.

Things were crushed, distorted, squashed together when the impact arrived.

Unfortunately, that was only the train. By the time Physics did its work, the train resembled a giant accordion with bits sticking out. It was as if it had crashed into a brick wall.

'If I had a stick of dynamite every time a train hit me…'Coyote grinned. 'I've told you I've adapted. Nothing harms me anymore.'

'Beep!' Fudd swore.

'Now, let's have some fun, shall we?'

Coyote reached Fudd, leaned over until his face was close to the hitman's. 'Looks like your sinful days are over.'

'You're one to talk about sin.'

'I should ask you the same question. How many people have suffered because of you, especially that bratty cat? You would have been executed a dozen times over already, until you cheated.'

'I did not cheat,' Fudd bristled, moving the shotgun into position. Coyote didn't mind. That shotgun couldn't hurt him.

'The Global Mayor simply recognized me for my skills, pardoned my and recruited me.'

'Ah, I suppose I can't get too worked up about cheating,' Coyote grinned. 'Everyone does it all the time.'

'You're right,' Fudd agreed, and stuck the barreled of the shotgun inside Coyote's mouth. Before the mobster could so much as react. Fudd pulled three triggers and Coyote's head was blown clean off his shoulders.

'It's doesn't matter who you are on the outside,' Fudd said to what was left of Coyote, 'But it's what's inside that counts.'

He tried his best to wipe the bloodstains off his clothes, and then glanced at his watch. Oh dear. 5:28. It was already quite late.

The ideal thing he should do was deliver Coyote's body to the Mutts, get the shuttle, and take off. No need to wait for Bugs. That guy could take care of himself, and besides, there was a deadline to meet.

Christ, the damn mouse was inside him!

Bugs could clearly feel something wriggling under his shirt, but kept calm. Instead he stuffed the Eagle inside his suit and fired twice. The shots missed his own body by an inch but didn't affect Jerry. There was a sudden sharp pain in his chest.

Then Tom came in, swinging the knives. Bugs backed away quickly, ignoring the pain, He had to concentrate between using one Eagle to fire at Tom and the other at Jerry. But it was a hopeless task. No bullets affected them.

For the first time in his life, Bugs felt like he had a strong possibility of dying.

.