Sylvester felt himself returning to consciousness. He didn't want to wake up, but his instinct told him he was still in imminent danger, so he opened his eyes.

He was just in time to see Fudd pull the pin of his grenade, and blow both him and RR to pieces. He saw Bugs standing to one side, observing this event with a cocked head.

It was hard to say whether he felt any emotion for Fudd's death – he felt no sadness, no joy, just a hollow pit in his stomach. But he certainly was shocked. Who would have though Fudd, of all people, was capable of redemption?

He groaned, and then he saw Bugs's head turn towards him.

'So you're not dead after all,' Bugs said. 'Ah, well, I'll have to finish the job.'

Sylvester inwardly cursed – he was too weak to curse aloud. Bugs and him were still enemies, after all – and now with Fudd and RR out of the way, Bugs was free to kill the cat without any interruptions.

Once Sylvester was dead, there would be absolutely no followers of the Martian left on Looney World. No one would carry out his teachings. Looney World would continue to be damned, and Bugs would be free to tell the Global Mayor Mars was a sitting duck.

Bugs slowly walked to where his Eagle was lying on the ground, checked the clip, slid back the bolt. He then walked slowly towards Sylvester.

The cat tried to move, but he was too weak. Damn that Fudd! Surely he hadn't been stupid enough to kill himself without taking care of Bugs first? Bugs was the person who had the potential to destroy Mars!

Bugs stopped a few centimeters from where Sylvester was lying on the ground. He raised his Eagle. It was now evening. The sunlight glittered off the deadly barrel. All around them were dead people, and damning flames.

'So I take it you saw Fudd back there,' Bugs said. 'You saw him sacrifice himself.'

Sylvester nodded. He couldn't do anything but.

'Surprised?'

Sylvester nodded.

'Let me tell you something, Sylvester, That so called sacrifice just now? A fake. He had to have faked it somehow. He had to. There's no other explanation.'

'He faked it,' Bugs continued, 'just like all the others – Tom, Jerry, Foghorn, Daffy – they faked it too. They were faking becoming saints.'

Was it Sylvester's imagination, or did Bugs's eyes suddenly grow wider?

'There's simply no other explanation,' Bugs said again.

There was suddenly a tapping sound. Sylvester looked down to see Bugs's index finger twitching. No, it was spasming. His finger was tapping at his suit at an accelerated rate.

Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap

Bugs continued talking, ignorant of the break in his inscrutable façade.

'The world is evil. No one can change. No one,' Bugs said, sounding as if he was convincing himself as well as Sylvester. 'Not even me.'

Sylvester could only watch, utterly amazed, as along with the rabbit's finger, the hand holding the Eagle started shaking. As well as the knee, it started wobbling as if Bugs couldn't support his weight.

Sylvester watched as Bugs Bunny started to break down.

'It's a conspiracy,' Bugs said, in an unnatural and creepy high pitched voice. 'They were all in it…they were trying to trick me…'

The gun moved up and down. Sylvester suddenly had the hope that he may get out of this alive. Bugs's gun wobbled precariously, up and down, clearly showing that the assassin was – impossibly – having doubts.

Then, suddenly, the gun steadied. Bugs's eyes cleared. He suddenly seemed determined, sure of what he was about to do. Sylvester saw Bug's good finger tighten on the trigger, and closed his eyes. This was it. He was going to die.

Bang.

Sylvester let out a gasp, then realized he hadn't actually been shot. Surprised, he looked up at Bugs, but the assassin was staring at something past him. Sylvester turned his head and saw Mr. Parrot. The bird-man had three wounds now, after surviving his first two he had run for Wolfgang's gun lying on the ground, but Bugs had shot him first.

Mr. Parrot stood still for a moment, then crashed on the ground, truly dead this time.

Bugs looked at Sylvester.

Sylvester looked at Bugs.

Then Bugs let the gun drop to the floor. His legs, finger and hand stopped shaking.

Then, he collapsed limply on the floor.

Sylvester could only watch, bemused, as Bugs lay on the ground, his shoulders shaking violently. A pool of water began forming around him. At first Sylvester thought it was the rain.

But then he realized Bugs Bunny was crying.

The two of them lay there as the drizzle turned into a downpour.

One month later.

Bugs Bunny walked down the dark streets. He now had a stubble and his suit was grungy and mud-caked. His eyes had a haunted look and he stumbled as he walked.

A month ago he was a confident rabbit, but now he was broken, not knowing what to believe in anymore.

'Bugs!' someone called.

Bugs stopped in his tracks. Then he slowly turned to see a familiar figure. Sylvester. The rabbit sighed and continued walking.

'Where are you off to, Bugs?' Sylvester pressed, walking with Bugs.

'Somewhere,' Bugs muttered. 'Leave me alone.'

'How'd you holding up? I haven't seen you in a month.'

'Why are you even talking to me? I did try to kill you and did kill many of the Martian's followers. Including Lola.'

The two walked in silence for a moment, taking in the harsh scenery. People were fighting each other, as usual. Nothing much had changed.

'I don't forgive you for that, Bugs,' Sylvester said. 'Just as I still don't forgive Elmer Fudd. But you've redeemed yourself. Just like Elmer did. I think I can trust you to some degree.'

'So, just because of that small act five years ago, I'm instantly forgiven for a dozen murders?'

'Not forgiven, I told you.'

'This world is looney,' Bugs sighed.

'Want to talk about it?'

Bugs sighed again.

'Elmer Fudd destroyed my entire philosophy. He and a couple of others were capable of redemption, a fact which terrified me. You see, I became an assassin because I thought people will always be evil, but things have turned really topsy turvy for me. So now I've left the Global Mayor's employ.'

'That's great!'

'Not really,' Bugs continued, ignoring Sylvester. 'I don't know what to believe in anymore. If you choose good, you're going to die faster. But if you choose evil, you're damned.'

Bugs continued walking. Sylvester noticed a bulge in Bugs's suit. Clearly Bugs was carrying something, and Sylvester had an idea what it was, but right now he didn't want to press that.

'I initially chose evil, you see? But then due to that unfortunate incident, my conscience flared up. Ah, damned conscience. Whatever god put it in me, I would like to put twelve rounds in his head.'

'Is that what the gun's for?' Sylvester half-joked.

'So you noticed I was carrying one.'

'What are you – '

'How's Mars going, by the way?'

'Not very good,' Sylvester replied, on edge that Bugs had avoided his question. 'Thanks to you, Porky Pig still believes Mars has weapons, is covering up Marvin's death. In any case, without a leader, Mars is falling into chaos.'

'It seems pretty screwed up, doesn't it?'

'Yes it does.'

'So what are you going to do?'

'Go to Mars. Rebuild it. Then, I'll start over what the Martian began. And this time, I'll succeed.'

'A bit too ambitious, don't you think?'

'I will prevail.'

'You will be less than likely to succeed.'

'I don't care. I thought you said you realized people were capable of redemption?'

'What happens when Death asks Life for an Apple?'

Bugs stopped suddenly. Sylvester followed suit, looking bemused. 'Why the sudden randomness?' the cat asked.

'That joke actually explains why everything is screwed up, y'know.' Bugs said. 'After my philosophy was destroyed by Elmer Fudd, I went searching for an answer for a whole month. An answer to why evil always prevails and the good die for their efforts. An answer to why it was such a looney world.'

'And you found it?' Sylvester asked seriously. 'The answer you found is a joke?'

'Yes. The punchline of the joke, is that Life refuses to give Death any apples.'

'Why? I don't get it.'

'You'll figure it out eventually.' But Bugs knew that once Sylvester did figure it out, it would be too late.

Meanwhile, Sylvester had given up trying to understand Bugs. 'Come on, Bugs,' he said, 'let's go.'

'Go where?'

'I was on my way to the graveyard. To pay Fudd my respects, Want to come?'

'No thank you,' Bugs said, and with one swift movement he took out the Eagle inside his suit. For a moment Sylvester though Bugs was going to shoot him. But then he realized Bugs was instead staring at it reflectively.

'I have a task to perform first,' he said.

'What task?'

'Not to worry, I don't intend to kill any innocents. Just trust me on this one.'

'Then tell me what you intend to do.'

'Can't.'

'Then at least come with me to the graveyard. Visit your old friends, Elmer Fudd. As well as Lola.'

Bugs's grip tightened on the Eagle as he heard the last name. A single tear tricked down from his eye.

'I told you, I have a task to perform. Goodbye, Sylvester.' He said stubbornly, brushing away his tear and continued to walk. Sylvester stared after him, frowning, but then decided on trusting Bugs. He walked off in the other direction, going to the graveyard, where he would wonder about various things.

Bugs Bunny resumed his slow walk down the lonely streets, ignoring the death and destruction around him. He turned a corner and found himself facing a dark alleyway. Good. This would be the place where he would perform his task undisturbed.

He walked over to a dumpster in the alley. Sat down. Slid back the bolt of his Eagle.

What happens when Death asks Life for an apple?

Bugs looked at the deadly weapon before him. The gun that had killed so many others. It would take its last life tonight.

Life refuses to give Death any apples.

Bugs slowly turned the gun round so that the barrel was facing him. H e slowly lifted the gun.

Because Life's not fair.

Bugs stuck the barrel inside his mouth. One twitch of his finger could send a bullet right through his brain.

As he hoped.

It was a Looney World, and no matter how much he tried, he couldn't make sense of it. Everything was so, so, crazy. It was time to leave this Looney world, with all its evil and death happening everyday.

Time to go to a better place.

'I'm coming for you, Lola,' Bug half-sobbed, and pulled the trigger.

Click.

Bugs slowly opened his eyes. The first thing that he registered was that he wasn't dead. The second thing was that he had made a phenomenal mistake that could have gone down in the history books.

He had forgotten to load his gun.

Bugs sat still for a moment. Then he shouted a four letter word and punched the dumpster beside him. The heavy object moved a few centimeters.

Well. This was definitely screwed up. The rabbit kept on swearing for a few seconds, then calmed down. He would not kill himself tonight – there was nothing quick that would kill him as of yet. Maybe this was destiny. Maybe he had forgotten to load the gun because he was destined to live.

Bugs started to get up, half-glad, half-disappointed that he had cheated death – but then he noticed something on the floor. Something that had been revealed when he had knocked the dumpster away in his anger.

A rusty knife was lying on the floor.

Bugs stared at it, and started to grin. A grin that evolved into a chuckle, and then a full blown burst of mad laughter. Destiny indeed! If there were any gods, they must have really wanted him to die! Supplying him with a knife out of nowhere!

Bugs dropped the useless gun, picked up the knife. It had been lying under the dumpster for a long time, as it was quite rusty, and still had dried bloodstains on it, but it still would do the job.

Bugs held the knife to his throat, and felt the sharp edge caress his throat. He prepared to slice it across his adam's apple.

Then he saw something on the hilt. There were initials craved onto it, just two letters.

D.D.

Daffy Duck.

The truth dawned on Bugs. This was Daffy's knife. The knife in which he had tried to kill himself with many months ago, in this very alleyway.

Bugs looked at the knife. Then he put it down. Thought hard for a very, very long time.

Alright. He would give himself one more week. One more week to make sense of it all. And when that one week ended, so would his life.

He stood up and started walking to the graveyard to meet Sylvester.

The one week slowly turned into a month, then a year, then ten.

It's a Looney World, after all.

NB:So, it's finally finished, after two months and a bit. Please review, and review honestly. In closing I would like to apologise to you about two things:

1. Constantly referring to Elmer Fudd by his last name.

2. The story not actually related to Looney Tunes at all.

That's all I have to say. REVIEW!!!