Chapter 16: Familiar Faces
"So help me if you don't shut your stupid trap I'm gonna stuff it with DIP and glue it shut!" Gums snarled in Yakko's face. Yakko felt speckles of spit flick against his hood.
"In that order?"
With another snarl, Gums shoved him against the carved out wall. "Shove it,smartass!"
Beneath his hood, Yakko rolled his eyes. If he had a nickel for every time someone had called him a smartass he could buy his way out of this hellhole.
"Take this pendejo back to his cell," Gums instructed some nearby weasels, then looked Yakko in the eye and added, "no food."
"Aw, you mean no moldy bread for me today? At least tell me the filet mignon is still on the menu." Yakko tried to hide the fact that his stomach was growling so loud it could've been part of the conversation.
Gums could not resist the opportunity to spit on him before the weasels grabbed him beneath the arms. Yakko let himself be dragged, wondering if calling Gums a "mean camp counselor" and asking for "s'mores" had been worth losing his only meal of the day. He couldn't afford to lose many meals at this point – the other day he noticed that he could make out his ribs individually beneath his fur. His elbows and knees were jutting out more, and he was sure if he caught a glimpse of his face he'd look like a skeleton with a fur coat.
The weasels didn't talk to him as they hauled him down the passageway, but they hissed and spit at each other occasionally. There were so many of them nowadays, crawling around the hallways and cells. Surely they hadn't all come down here from Los Angeles, which meant there had to be nearly a hundred of them…where were they all coming from?
But Yakko was jolted out of his thoughts by a terrible scream. It came from the Upper Class cell. Digging his heels into the ground, Yakko threw the weasels off enough to turn around.
Mortimer was standing by the doorway to the cell, laughing in a horribly mocking way as three weasels dragged a toon outside while another imprisoned toon, a girl judging by the hair, clung desperately to his feet. Yakko squinted, and with a plummeting feeling he recognized the two toons: Plucky and Shirley.
"No, no, like, don't take him!" Shirley pleaded, both arms wrapped around Plucky's legs.
Plucky, who looked uncomfortably stretched between the weasels and his girlfriend, nodded in agreement. "You heard the girl! Just let me stay in the cell, I like it there! It's uh, it's cozy!"
"Nope, sorry duck, we've got bigger plans for you," Mortimer said as he inspected his fingernails.
Shirley looked up at him with a fierce expression that transcended the dirt and tear tracks that smeared her face. "No, please! Like, let him go you – you second-rate rat!"
Mortimer raised his brow at this. Reaching into his hammerspace, he pulled out a bright orange water pistol and shoved it against Plucky's head. Judging by Plucky's squirming and gagging, the gun was loaded with DIP.
"Call me that again and I'll pump his brain full a' juice. Go on sweet cheeks, try me."
The hall seemed to go deathly still aside from Plucky's writhing as Shirley stared back at Mortimer with wide eyes.
Mortimer grinned. "Now, be a good little girl and let go of your duck in shining armor."
Shirley's eyes flicked from the gun to Plucky's face. Finally, after not enough heartbeats, she let go of his feet with a dry sob. The weasels yanked him away without hesitation, and Plucky barely had time to lock eyes with her before they dragged him out of sight.
"Don't worry, we'll bring him back. Not sure if he'll be in one piece, but we'll bring most of him back," Mortimer said with a chuckle. He saluted the now sobbing Shirley before following the weasels down the hall and unmistakably toward The Machine.
Without thinking Yakko made to chase after them, but his two weasels tackled him to the floor. "Leggo!" he grunted, but the weasels sunk their claws into his shoulders and sides. Despite his kicks and struggles he found himself being dragged down the hall again, toward his cell and away from helping Plucky. No. He couldn't just sit in his cell while Mortimer did…whatever the hell he was going to do to Plucky. The presence of potential and immediate death had been so constant over the weeks that he'd grown numb to it, but now that it had suddenly swooped in on his friend it was like a slap in the face. His mind racing, Yakko tried to keep his breathing under control as the weasels thrust him into the cell and slammed the bars shut with a familiar clang.
Feeling that he was dangerously close to panicking, Yakko inhaled and rubbed the base of his ears through his hood. Bugs wouldn't panic, Bugs would stay calm and cool and figure out exactly what to do…and what would Buster say if he let their friend disappear because he was too hysterical to do anything useful…
Well, if he was going to do anything, he needed to get out of the cell. But once he was out of the cell, how was he going to get to the Machine without being caught? He'd need help. Yakko spun around. He could only think of one person.
"Molly!" he hissed, eyeing the guards.
Molly, who had been trying to engage one of the other prisoners in conversation, raised her head and, after glancing at the guards herself, tiptoed over to him.
"I'm calling in the favor you owe me," he said, "I don't have time to explain, but do you know Plucky Duck? From Tiny Toons?"
Molly nodded. Plucky better thank his lucky feathers that he inexplicably had a fanbase – and in a Disney toon, no less.
"Well, I'm a frien – I mean, fan of his, and he's in trouble. Can you help me get to the Machine?"
Molly nodded vigorously this time. Wow, she was a big fan.
Yakko glanced at the gate. "Now, I don't really know what to do, we just need to get out – "
Molly grabbed him by the arm before he could finish his sentence and pulled him to the gate. The weasels barely had time to look at her before she burst into a vicious coughing fit. Yakko stared blankly at her until she nudged him. Taking the hint, Yakko started up with his own coughs.
Reaching through the bars to clutch as the weasel's uniform, Molly groaned, "We're sick! We're sick with, uh – "
"Weaselitus," Yakko supplied.
He couldn't tell if she thought that was pathetic or not but she went with it. "Yeah, weaselitus! You better get us out of here before – " Molly paused for a few rather dramatic coughs, " – before we contaminate everyone."
The two weasel guards fixed them with skeptical looks. One of them began scrutinizing Yakko. He coughed in its face. They flinched back, hissing and grumbling nonsense at each other, before the larger of the two finally stuffed his keys in the lock. Yakko let himself be yanked out of the cell along with Molly, catching only a glimpse of the curious prisoners as they were dragged down the hall. The weasels were making an obvious effort to keep their distance from them, holding both him and Molly at arm's length with identical looks of disgust on their faces. Yakko threw in an especially phlegmy cough for good measure.
As they neared the corridor that led to the Machine, Yakko nodded discreetly in Molly's direction. "You know, it's really good of you guys to take us to the sick bay, considering weaselitus is airborne and extremely contagious…oh, and the fact that it's fatal to weasels."
When the weasels blinked at him, Molly pointed to them and added, "He's referring to you guys."
The weasels exchanged a glance, then yelped in panic. They let go of Yakko and Molly as though they'd caught fire, and dashed around the corner and out of sight.
"Dumber than advertised," Yakko muttered. But this reminded him of Dot and it sent a pang through his chest. He found he couldn't think of much else until Molly snapped her fingers in front of his face.
"Hey, Ears, you still on this planet? I thought we were saving Plucky Duck?"
"Oh, yeah, right. All I saw was that they're taking him to the Machine. I've never seen a toon that's gone in there come out, so Mortimer and Bosko and those other idiots must be up to something, and I'm gonna go out on a limb and say it's not good. Can you watch my back if I go in there?"
Molly nodded beneath her hood. Yakko had to give her credit – she either had a lot of guts or the Compound had made her feel she had nothing left to lose.
"Okay – cover me, will ya?"
They tiptoed down the narrow, dim corridor that led to the worker's entrance. When he heard the Mortimer's sharp laughter, Yakko flattened himself against the wall, doing his best to become just another shadow. At the far end of the corridor he could see where the path diverged; the right led to the worker's entrance – his entrance – while the left led to the strange room and tunnel that he forbidden from even sneezing at. Squinting in the darkness, he could spot Plucky struggling in Mugsy's vice-like arms while Bosko herded them along. Mortimer brought up the rear, cackling and performing crude imitations of Plucky's pleas. Bosko ushered them to the left and disappeared behind a heavy, metal door.
"They're taking him into the Machine!" Molly hissed.
Gritting his teeth, Yakko hurried forward. His heart began to pound as he heard the Machine groan to life, the roar filling up the small corridor so that he could no longer hear Molly's footsteps behind him. When they reached the doors, he motioned her closer.
"I'm going to try and stop it!" he shouted above the noise.
"What?"
"I'm gonna try and – "
"What?"
"JUST STAY HERE AND COVER ME!"
"OKAY!"
Yakko pushed the door open just wide enough so he could peer in. Good, no one was there. Bosko and the others must be up in the booth. Squashing down the impending feeling of fear for Plucky, Yakko crept forward, towards the belching and quaking Machine. Dread like he hadn't felt in some time dripped into his chest; what were they doing to Plucky? What was in the Machine? What was going to happen to him?
A dozen horrifying prospects flooded through his mind and Yakko found himself running, leaping over pipes and tubes, ducking under wires. He had no master plan – he'd barely given any of this a thought considering how dangerous it was – but he knew one thing. He had to stop the Machine. After that…well, he'd figure that out once he got to it.
In between the wires and the smoke he spotted the battered pink flamingo. With a nervous glance toward the booth he crawled toward it. The pipes it was supporting were straining with effort, rattling and shaking and steaming. Yakko yanked the flamingo out from beneath them and they sagged, but the Machine continued to run. His heart was pounding so hard now he could feel the vibrations in his chest. Without thinking Yakko took the flamingo, reared back, and swung at the pipe connector. The flamingo's head struck it clean, loosening the connector so it rattled in time with the pipes. He swung again, and again, once more and then the connector came loose and the pipes burst free with the force of a small bomb.
Ink, hot and black, shot from the pipes like a water cannon. It hit him square in the chest, knocking him off his feet and flat on his back. Yakko skidded across the floor for several feet, coughing and spluttering as the ink washed over him. Somewhere above him in the booth he heard an alarm blaring, signaling a malfunction, and the Machine began to shudder and clank violently. Then it seemed to sag, defeated almost, and the chugs slowed until the Machine stopped altogether. The last bits of ink sputtered out of the pipe as Yakko pushed himself up into a sitting position, too stunned to get to his feet.
He brought his ink-covered hands to his nose and sniffed. It smelled strange, not entirely like the ink that flowed through his veins but not at all like pen ink. But then the silence of the broken Machine brought him back to the moment and the sudden realization that he had to get out of there. Now.
Yakko jumped up, but his feet spun out on the slick ink. Desperate, he grabbed the flamingo and used it as a strange crutch, dragging himself along until he could get his footing. He darted between tubes and wires, up the landing and into the corridor…Molly was not there. She was gone. Yakko looked up and down the hallway, but no sign of her. Had she gone back to the cell? Or had she ratted on him? Yakko made to sprint back to the cell himself, but noticed with a surge of dread that he was leaving inky footprints behind him.
"Damn it," he muttered, but no sooner had he finished that thought when the door to the booth flew open.
It was one of the strangest things he'd ever seen in his life. First out of the door was Bosko, who was screaming out a series of curses. Next to follow was Mortimer, who had one arm wrapped tightly around Molly's neck and was using his other hands to pin her wrists behind her back. And last was Mugsy, who held an impossibly bizarre creature in his hands. At first Yakko thought it was a weasel, but its arms were covered in combination of fur and feathers…green feathers…the ears were definitely a weasel's though, but the snout…no, it was more of a beak…a fat, orange beak…
"Plucky?" Yakko blurted
It seemed that Plucky had been caught in the middle of a science experiment that had gone horribly wrong. He was some bizarre cross between a duck and a weasel…if anything, he now more closely resembled a deformed platypus. But as Yakko glanced from him to the Machine, Yakko thought of the glut of weasels and the disappearing toons, and a sudden, chilling realization spread over him. They were using the Machine to make the weasels. Out of other toons.
Bosko, Mortimer, and Molly locked eyes on him all at once, standing in front of them, covered in ink and clutching a pink lawn flamingo.
Yakko gulped and hid the flamingo behind his back as though that would fool them.
In the next second Bosko lunged at him, colliding with his chest. Yakko could only assume that Bosko meant to knock him down with that move, but Bosko was such a diminutive toon that Yakko merely staggered backwards with Bosko clinging to his jumpsuit. Bosko tugged a DIP gun from his hammerspace and nearly shoved it up Yakko's nose. He gagged, but not that much – he'd been here so long he'd gotten used to the stench.
"You got some explainin' to do, loudmouth," Bosko growled, "'cause I don't remember hiring you as a mechanic."
Behind him Mortimer sunk his claws gleefully into Molly as he grinned. "DIP him! Right in his face!"
Ignoring him, Yakko did his best to keep his voice calm. "Don't be ridiculous. I was trying to fix the stupid thing, not break it."
"Do I look stupid to you?"
"Do you want the real answer or would you prefer I just say 'no?'"
Bosko pushed the gun harder so it was digging into Yakko's cheek. "You askin' for a DIP cocktail?"
"Is it open bar?"
Yakko wondered why the filter between his mouth and his brain had suddenly disappeared. He had a lethal dose of DIP milliseconds away from killing him and yet he couldn't shut his mouth. If he got out of this alive, he was willingly going to be buy himself a muzzle.
"DIP him! DIP him already, I wanna see him scream!" Mortimer shouted.
"Shaddup!" Bosko snapped. He turned back to Yakko, still standing on his chest and clutching his collar. "I've got better plans for these two."
"Two?" Yakko blurted.
Bosko rolled his eyes. "You and the chick. One plus one equals two. Jesus, I would have at least hoped the under Class knew basic math. What are you lot good for anyway?"
"Why are you dragging her into it?" Yakko protested. Beyond Bosko's bloated face he could see Molly squirm in Mortimer's arms, shaking her head. Yakko didn't care if she was willing to go down with him – he dragged her into this, he couldn't live with himself if he let her get punished too. And there was always that part of him – maybe it came with raising Dot – that couldn't bear to see a girl hurt. And if he were to guess what was going to happen to him, he could only assume it was going to hurt. "I told her I had orders to fix the Machine, she was only trying to help you guys."
Mortimer sneered and rubbed his cheek against Molly's hood. "Aw, does girly wanna kiss-up to the big boys?" She jerked away from him, and he added with a laugh, "I don't buy that cock and bull story for a second."
But Bosko turned back to him with an oily grin that made Yakko cringe beneath his hood. Part of him – well, most of him – wanted to punch Bosko square in the nose and make a run for it, but it was hard to ignore the DIP gun in his hand.
"You know, I think the worm may have a point…think of what the Big Boss'll do to him when he's only got one worm to play with instead of two. More eh, individualized attention, ya know what I'm sayin'?"
Mortimer cackled and clutched Molly closer, and she took the opportunity to swing her heel back into his shin. Howling in pain, he threw her to the ground.
"Why you little – "
"I'll deal with her," Bosko cut in as he shoved Yakko towards him, "here, take this idiot to the Big Boss."
Mortimer's face shifted from furious to terrified in a split second. "Why do I gotta do it? It was your idea, you take the honors!"
Mortimer pushed Yakko back into Bosko, who pushed him forward again.
"You've got a way with him, you do it!"
"I did it last time, it's your turn!"
"You're full a' shit!"
They tossed Yakko back and forth like a pinball as they argued, until Bosko finally barked, "Listen, you got a DIP gun handy? 'Cause I do, and I ain't afraid to use it!"
Mortimer folded his arms. "Oh please, like you have the gonads to point that at – "
His words petered out when Bosko pointed the gun directly at him. After a few moments of judgment Mortimer let out a snarl and grabbed Yakko roughly by the neck. "Fine, I'll take him ya dirty rotten so an' so…"
Yakko didn't have time to catch a glimpse of Molly because Mortimer pulled him around the corner at a surprising speed. The mouse grumbled to himself for a few minutes, then turned to Yakko and said, "You better say your prayers, worm. The Big Boss likes when this place runs like a well-oiled machine and, well, you took the oil out of the Machine. And trust me, he's got a way with words, he does. Just you wait."
"Good, I've been looking for some intelligent conversation in this place."
Surprisingly, Mortimer laughed at this. "Taking you to the Big Boss is like Christmas morning for me, you know that?"
They rounded the corner to a series of hallways Yakko had never seen. They were wider and better lit, but the walls were streaked with ink that grew heavier the further they walked. It was fresh, and it glinted in the light. When they finally reached the last door it was so black it looked as though someone had painted it.
Yakko noticed that Mortimer had grown quiet. He was wordless as he knocked sharply on the door, then took a quick step back. Nearly a full minute had gone by before Yakko heard a soft, "Come in."
The door unlocked with heavy metallic sound and Mortimer opened it with hesitant hands. He pushed Yakko in ahead of himself, using him as a shield. Like the rest of the cave the room was extremely dark, but this seemed to be due to the fact that the walls were, like the hall, nearly coated in ink. Strangely, it gave off the same smell that the ink from the Machine had. Something crunched under Yakko's feet when he walked. The floor was covered in sheets of paper that all seemed to have scribbled out drawings on them, but Yakko didn't look too closely because he was trying to spot the source of the voice. If anything, it looked like the room was empty.
"T-This under Class b-b-broke the Machine, Boss," Mortimer said. He had lost the bravado he'd shown before when he'd had a buddy with a DIP gun. Yakko could feel his hands shaking as they dug into his neck. "He sabotaged it d-during a transformation."
"Leave him."
Mortimer couldn't have released Yakko faster. He scurried out the door in record time, slamming the door shut behind him. His breath shallow, Yakko blinked in the darkness, but he saw nothing but ink-stained walls and papers.
"So, worm, you discovered the purpose of my Machine?"
The voice was calm in the most unsettling way, as though it would erupt with rage at any moment. It was a man's voice for sure, and it had polished sound to it, educated even, with only a hint of rawness lurking beneath.
"It's brilliant, really, I have outdone myself. Think about it – I have created a machine that creates toons. It is ruthlessly efficient, far better than the cumbersome process we had in place twenty years ago. The key, I found, is to begin with a preexisting toon as my base. That is the masterstroke."
Yakko's fur stood on end as the voice continued.
"I chose to use a weasel as my model. Do you like them? They're crude, you see, both in design and mentality. Easy to manipulate. Easy to replicate. Easy to lure with the promise of a few choice substances."
Yakko gave his head a shake – the voice seemed to be traveling. At times it was as though he was speaking from Yakko's right, then the ceiling, and then the floor.
"My first attempts could barely be considered successes. They had the mental capacity of a goldfish, and even something as simple as water made their ink run. They were destroyed easily. Very pathetic. So I had to choose a more worthy candidate as my base toon – the upper Class. As much as I hate to waste them, upper Class toons make for much better replicas. They're stronger, smarter. A worm like you would not understand. Unfortunately, they take much longer to create. I can only make myself one replica a day. But greatness comes at a price, I suppose."
By now Yakko's mouth had gone dry, and he was torn between the urge to run and the need to listen to this mystery person explain the last year of his life.
"So now you know what my Machine is capable of. But, my dear worm, do you know what I am capable of? Well?"
Summoning his voice from the tangle of his nerves, Yakko shouted, "Who are you?"
The voice chuckled lowly, which was much more frightening than him talking. "Forgive my manners. I will introduce myself."
A strange sucking sound filled the room, and Yakko realized that something large and dark was emerging from the wall. A black mass was flowing from the splattered ink, growing and heaving, until it formed itself into a hulking beast that towered over him. Yakko took a step back as he took the figure in; he was shaped like a man, or perhaps a ghost, made entirely out of ink. Its head tapered at the top as though he was wearing a hood, and his eyes and mouth were more like the crude features of a jack-o-lantern, forever changing and dripping. His whole body shifted at all times with the ebb and flow of the ink, making Yakko feel slightly nauseated. The overall effect was ghastly and unnatural.
"To many, I am known as the Phantom Blot. To others, I am The Blot," he said, his mouth splitting into a menacing smile. "And I can do more than you'd ever imagine."
Yakko's mind flashed to Wakko's comic book but in the next second Blot's ink stretched out in tentacles that wrapped themselves around his chest, squeezing him tight, pinning his arms, forcing the air out of his lungs. He struggled, but then he was lifted clear off the ground so that he was face to face with Blot. For once he was thankful for his hood – he was too panicked to even think about shapeshifting his face.
"I can control your mind," Blot growled, and Yakko noticed a pale, ghostly light flickered behind his eyes before he tilted Yakko so he was staring at the ground. But the ground wasn't there…well, it was, but it looked as though the ground was miles beneath him, that he was impossibly high in the air. Yakko yelped as a feeling of vertigo swept over, and he squirmed in Blot's grasp.
"I can frighten you," Blot continued, and then the next thing Yakko knew there were snakes, hundreds of them, slithering up his legs, across his back, wrapping around his torso. He squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth to bite down on the scream of fear that was threatening to free itself from him. But he could feel the dry scales sliding over them, he could hear them hissing in his ear.
"And I can make you wish for death."
The snakes vanished. Blot realeased him and Yakko fell, but instead of landing on the hard floor he splashed into icy water. He cried out in shock, and his last gasps of air escaped as bubbles through the deep. There was water on all sides, more than could possibly fit inside the room. Despite his distinct lack of air, or more so because of it, Yakko kicked upward. He swam, but he never broke the surface. He wasn't even coming close. His mind was beginning to cloud, and Yakko was dimly aware that his racing heart was only making it worse, but he was drowning, he was going to die in here –
But then the water changed. It became thicker, and green, with strange bubbles floating past him. What on earth…and then the powerfully awful smell of DIP filled his nostrils. It was DIP, he was being DIPped. His muscles tightened, locked for a moment of pure fear until the pain set in. His skin was on fire, he was burning, it was like millions of hot knives had sunk into him, tearing him from the inside out. Yakko wanted to scream but couldn't stand the idea of DIP pouring into his mouth too, not that it mattered, he was going to be dead in seconds…it would be welcome, anything to stop this pain –
And then he was on the floor again. No DIP, no water – just dry, papered floor. Yakko gasped for breath, the air rattling with the uncontrollable shaking of his body. The pain had miraculously stopped, but he could still feel echoes of it rippling down his spine. Gingerly, he lifted his hand to inspect it. It looked completely fine aside from the unhealthy, dull look his fur had acquired from weeks in the Compound. No blisters or burns. It wasn't even wet.
Somewhere in his mind he could hear Bugs' voice…blurring makes you see things, makes you believe you're somewhere else…almost no toon can do it…
The Blot hovered above him so his face was only inches from Yakko's own. The grinning face shifting into one of cold cruelty, and if Yakko hadn't been so depleted from fear and pain he would have tried to run, or even lift his head from the floor.
"So now that you know what I'm capable of," Blot said, his voice a low hiss, "will you ever try to upset my plans again?"
Pinning his mouth shut, Yakko shook his head. The effort made him dizzy.
"Excellent."
A tentacle of ink snaked out to open the door. Blot scooped Yakko off the floor with a look of disgust, and hurled him bodily out of the room.
"Wakko!"
Dot's scream was so shrill Wakko had to cover his ears. She was going to break glass if she wasn't careful. But it didn't matter – dangling upside down in a booby-trap with busted eardrums or not, he couldn't have been happier to see his sister. He felt more right than he had in weeks. His whole body felt lighter.
He craned his neck to watch her dash over to the base of the wire. Behind her, Yosemite Sam was eyeing him suspiciously. But Dot had barely touched the wire before he went crashing to the ground, landing in a heap.
"Jeez Dot, thanks for the warn – "
Wakko's whining was cut short as Dot tackled him in a fierce hug. Her embrace was bone-crushing to the point where Wakko actually felt his eyes bulge, and he was very positive that he couldn't breathe.
"I missed you," she said into his chest. Her voice was strained.
It was as though the months of resentment toward each other had never happened. Wakko smiled and hugged her back. He couldn't think of anything good enough to describe what he was feeling, so he just mumbled, "Me too."
"I hate to break yer happy reunion and all, but just what in the heck are ya doin' here?" Yosemite asked him, now watching the gateway. "Where's the shrink?"
Wakko's heart dropped. In all the excitement of seeing Dot he had nearly forgotten why he'd come here in the first place. He pushed himself to his feet, which was difficult due to Dot clinging to him the entire time.
"He's – Scratchensniff – "
"Spit it out boy."
"They're after him!"
Dot looked up at him, her brow furrowed. "Who?"
"Pete." He cleared his throat. "Um, I think we have to go. Uh, soon. Now, really."
Yosemite raised an eyebrow. "You sayin' you led the crooks straight to us?"
Wakko gulped. Oh crap, he hadn't even thought of that –
"Give him a break Sam, there's no way they didn't know I was here," Dot said. "He came here to warn us. But what about Scratchy?" Dot asked.
"He…well…I don't know – "
The sound of screeching tires silenced their conversation. Wakko tightened his grip on Dot. There was only one other car on the road that he'd seen, and that was Pete's. He didn't have to think very hard as to who this was.
"Git inside!" Yosemite commanded, and Dot yanked Wakko by the arm as she dashed up the path.
"Jeez Dot, don't pull my arm outta its socket, it just healed!"
"We have to move, Pete's bad news!"
"Yeah, I got that."
"We're gonna set up traps…do you have a flamethrower?"
"I don't really carry those around."
"No, that won't work, the heat might melt the walls…we'll have to use something else…"
Wakko stared blankly at Dot as she dragged him into the house and wondered what exactly Yosemite had been exposing her to. But then he collided with her when she stopped dead in her tracks and gazed at one of Bugs' particularly ugly vases.
"Wakko, grab that vase and bring it over here!"
"Why?"
"Just do it!"
Wakko rolled his eyes. Clearly she had been going through bossiness withdrawal without him or Yakko around. But he wrapped his arms around the vase, which was much bigger up close and much heavier than it looked. He grunted as he picked it up, staggering under its weight, and nearly dropped it in the center of the foyer. Dot was already tugging yards of wire from her hammerspace like an overgrown spider, tying it methodically at different points in the room and ceiling. She knotted a loop at one end and tossed it Wakko.
"Here, put this around the vase. Make it tight!"
Realizing that questioning her would be pointless, Wakko did is as he was told. He lassoed the neck of the vase and pulled it snug. Then he followed Dot's lead and helped her tug the other end of the wire, lifting the vase higher and higher until it dangled from the ceiling. Dot tied the end of the snare around a large, metal carrot sculpture. She admired her work for a moment before her ears perked up again.
"Let's do a snare too, just to be safe."
Wakko watched, slack jawed, as Dot set to work putting together a snare.
"Do I need to start calling you Danielle Boone now?" he asked.
She didn't look up from her work. "Sammy – er, Sam showed me everything. Turns out he has a lot of hidden talents we didn't know about. There," Dot said, clapping her hands, "that oughta do it."
Just then a window in the hall behind them shattered, and Wakko could hear the loud grunts of someone heavy hoisting themselves through it.
"Well, it woud've done it if he'd come in the front door," Dot said, her confidence tearing at the seams.
Wakko didn't waste any time. "Pete!" he hissed, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her away. Pete's bulk was already rounding the corner, stomach first. He lumbered into view, intentionally knocking several of Bugs' priceless sculptures to the ground.
"Always thought the rabbit would have expensive tastes," Pete said, admiring the foyer with a sneer and sending ceramic disc to the floor with a flick of his wrist. "Hey now, where you kids going? Ain't ya gonna give me the grand tour?"
Behind him, Wakko heard Pete grunt as he threw something. Whatever it was whizzed very close by his head, and he only caught a glimpse of a black bomb before it exploded against the doorway in front of them. Plaster and wood flew everywhere and Dot shrieked; Wakko threw himself on top of her, flattening her to floor with his body as chunks of plaster and wood pelted his back. Thick smoke filled the air around them. Dot was coughing beneath him as Wakko squinted, his eyes watering, his heart hammering as Pete's heavy footsteps grew louder.
Dot squirmed out from under him and grabbed a fistful of his jacket. "This way!" she hissed, pulling him as she crawled. Wakko, trusting that she had memorized Bugs' mansion down to the crown molding, crawled after her. The smoke cleared the further they got down the hall, until finally they pushed themselves to their feet.
"Where the hell did you mutts go?" he heard Pete snarl behind them. Wakko urged Dot to go faster; he already had a million different scenarios of what had happened to Scratchensniff going through his head, he didn't want Pete demonstrating any of them on Dot.
"Who does lardo back there think he is?" Dot wheezed once her coughing fit had subsided. She rounded the corner into the massive kitchen. "Chucking bombs at us kids…"
"Call me crazy but I don't think he plays fair," Wakko said.
"Damn straight, runt!"
Wakko and Dot gasped as Pete barreled into the room after them. It would have been entirely frightening had he not been sweating profusely and wheezing with each step.
Taking a page from Yakko's book, Wakko shouted, "I think it's time to lay off the donuts, chunky!"
"Yeah, I think I've got a gym membership in my hammerspace somewhere," Dot added.
In spite of everything, Wakko grinned. Now he knew why Yakko mouthed off in tough situations – he felt his confidence inflate, if only a little.
Pete lurched toward them. "Big talk for a couple a' runts. Tell me another joke. Tell me one right now. I dare ya. Tell me one more joke and I'll do the same thing to you as I did to your sissy shrink friend before he squealed."
Wakko felt his blood run cold, but Dot took an aggressive step forward. "The only way Scratchy would squeal would be if you sat on him. I don't believe you for a second!"
"Yeah, how'd you explain that black eye?" Wakko asked, nodding toward the purpling bruise on Pete's face. The sight of it made him worry just a bit less about the doctor. But out of the corner of his own eye he noticed Dot edging toward the kitchen counter. A bowl of fruit – including bananas – was only just out of her reach.
Dot smirked. "Is it a fashion statement? Or just something you thought would distract us from the braindead look on your face?"
"The shrink got lucky. I'd say his luck ran out though," Pete snarled. He was hunched over, his knees bent. He looked like a toon about to pounce, and even thought Wakko knew that Pete couldn't heft his own bulk around very fast, if he did manage to hit them it was going to leave a mark. Wakko glanced at the fruit. Kind of a corny maneuver, but they didn't have a lot going for them –
Pete lunged, pulling a short but massive mallet from behind his back. He came at them like a freight train, gathering speed as he went.
Dot reeled. "Grab the – "
"Got it!" Wakko snagged a fistful of bananas and shoved them at her. Dot blinked at him, the gravity of their predicament escaping her for a moment.
"Bananas?"
Wakko frowned. "You didn't want these?"
"Well, I was going for the steak knife personally, but if you want to give knock him out with his daily dose of fruit then fine – "
"Look out!"
Wakko cried out as Pete was nearly on top of them. Panicked, he threw the bananas at Pete's feet while pushing Dot out of the way. He cringed, bracing for a mallet attack, but then everything happened very fast: Pete stepped directly on the bananas and immediately lost his balance. His feet shot out from under him and he hit the floor, rolling toward them like a living bowling ball. Wakko flung Dot aside just as she snatched the steak knife from the counter, heaving her into the cabinets with a bang. Pete toppled past them and slammed face first into the steel refrigerator. He tumbled over, landing on his back, his eyes crossed and a goofy grin spread across his face. Little mallets danced around his head. They even whistled.
Dot put her hands on her hips. "Well look at that, I think that counts as a strike."
"I think that means we should get out of the kitchen."
"Good plan."
Wakko followed Dot as she raced down the hall. "We need to get back to Sammy," she called over her shoulder, "he probably needs help…or more bullets. I can never tell with him."
Having decided that Dot had enjoyed a thoroughly interesting few weeks without him and resolving to question her about her antics later, Wakko nudged her back to speed her up. He brought up the rear though, there was no way he was letting her fall behind. They rounded the corner into the foyer just as Yosemite came barreling in the front door, a trickle of ink running down his beard.
"Where in tarnation you been – "
"Sammy!" Dot shrieked. "Don't step – "
At first Wakko didn't know what she was going on about, but the next thing he knew Yosemite had walked square into the circle of wire Dot had set earlier. The wire tightened around his ankle as he stepped forward, and Yosemite was barely halfway into his fall when the snare triggered and yanked him up by his foot at a surprising speed.
Wakko squinted up at Yosemite, who was dangling close to the chandelier. "Wow Dot, that really worked – "
"Not the time, Wakko," Dot yelled above Yosemite's fluent cursing.
"Git me down from here, NOW goddamn it! He'll be here any second!"
Before Wakko could ask him who he was talking about, the floor trembled with each thud of heavy footsteps. Pete thundered around the corner; he looked livid, and he had a pretty impressive bump beginning to swell next to his ear. He sneered at them before his eyes darted up. It took a moment before his ugly face spit into an even uglier grin.
"Well now, Yosemite, quite the trapper, ain't ya? You've gone and caught yourself the only creature in Toontown without a brain!"
Pete burst out in guffaws, sending strings of spittle everywhere.
"Oh please, stop, my sides ache from laughter," Dot said. She could've given Yakko a run for his money in the sarcasm department.
Pete focused his beady eyes on her. "So this is how ol' Yosemite's paying his dues to the rabbit? Playin' babysitter to the stars?"
Dot's fists clenched at her sides and she opened her mouth to shout something, but Pete suddenly whipped out a strange-looking revolver from behind his back. It was bright, neon yellow, and it reminded Wakko of a watergun. Wakko wrinkled his nose – it was giving off a horrible stench.
"I wouldn't try that if I were you, bub," Pete growled. He was pointing the gun directly at Yosemite, how had been trying to cut himself free with his pocket knife. Pete's eyes glinted, and he slowly dropped the gun so it was pointing directly at Wako and Dot. Wakko quickly shoved his sister behind him.
"You know, on second thought, go right on ahead," Pete encouraged, "Cut that rope. See if you can get down before turn these two into pulp."
Yosemite growled, his face darkened from the ink rushing to his head. "Put that thing away while you still have a hand, ya two-bit jackal!"
Pete ignored him and narrowed his eyes at Wakko. "Get out of the way, boy," he said, jerking his pistol to the side, "I want to get the girl first."
Before he could process the strange gun pointed at his chest, the front door swung open with a bang. Wakko turned to look in spite of himself – a stout figure was highlighted by the moonlight. His head looked bizarrely oblong until he stepped into the foyer and Wakko realized it was just a hat…the long-bodied fedora hat of Rocky. Dot gasped.
Rocky was shorter than he'd expected, but his presence had a command to it that dared anyone to mock him for it. There was something undeniably threatening about him, something that made Wakko want to shrink into the corner and pray that Rocky forgot he was there. Unlike Pete, Rocky was impeccably dressed in suit that was made to impress. The only other person Wakko had known to walk around in a suit was Plotz – maybe it was a short person thing.
"Why are you pointing that thing at the boy's chest? You'll kill him that way, you nincompoop. You know as well as I do that these two are supposed to be alive by the end of tonight."
Wakko could feel Dot shaking behind him. He couldn't blame her. The gangster cadence that guided Rocky's speech was far more chilling than his presence alone. He spoke about their lives as though they were one of his suits he was trying to keep from getting dirty.
Rocky took several short, precise steps forward, his boots clicking on the marble. And then it occurred to Wakko that Rocky had yet to notice Yosemite, who was dangling silently fifteen feet above him. Wakko willed himself not to look at Yosemite and give him away, but somehow just thinking that made it very hard to actually do.
He felt Dot shove something hard into his hand. "The vase…get him with the vase…"
Pete pointed a chubby finger to where Yosemite was hanging. "But, but Rocky, look, there's – "
"Quit wastin' my time you oaf. Just grab the kids and let's go. You care to explain which part o' that is difficult for you?" Rocky snapped.
"Rocky, he's up – "
"I'm gonna hate myself in the morning," Dot muttered. With that she leapt straight at Pete, landing in his startled arms. Wakko watched in shock as she lunged forward and planted a big, sloppy toon kiss on his lips, smothering any attempt to give Yosemite away. For a moment even Rocky was transfixed, seemingly perplexed as to why any young girl in her right mind would do such a thing. Dully, Wakko looked into his hand and saw that she had placed the steak knife there.
Knowing what he had to do and how little time he had to do it, Wakko sprinted full tilt toward the carrot sculpture. Before Rocky could react, he took the knife and sliced through the wire. Rocky, noticing a shadow expanding around him, looked up to see the vase plummeting straight toward him. "Nuts," he muttered just as the vase shattered on top of his head with a tremendous crack.
For a moment Wakko thought Rocky was fine. When the glass and dust settled he was still standing, stick straight. The only indication that something happened was the fact that his hat was flattened and he wore a goofy smile on his face. Then, with a small chuckle, he toppled over, out cold.
Dot, who had ended the kiss with an obnoxious smack, turned to Wakko. "Nice one!"
"Look out!" Wakko cried.
Pete had pulled his mallet from his hammerspace and reared back, glaring at Dot. "Hold still, little lady…"
Wakko reached for his own mallet, already running toward Pete. But a gunshot rang out; Pete yelled and the bullet ricocheted off his mallet, knocking it from his hands. Wakko spun around to see Yosemite, still hanging from the ceiling, holding his smoking pistol with a smirk on his face.
Dot grinned up at him before turning back to Pete. "Sorry kid, it would've never worked between us," she said, then, in one movement, pulled out her mallet, reared back and swung.
Her aim was a bit off – the head of the mallet collided with the side of Pete's head, throwing Dot off balance and sending her tumbling to the ground. But the force was enough to cause a goose egg to sprout up comically from Pete's forehead. His tongue peeking out his mouth, Pete fell to the ground just as Rocky had done.
Dot looked at Pete, her head cocked to one side. "You know, he's gonna have brain damage by the end of the night. And he's got enough of that as it is."
"Jeez Dot, what's gotten into you?" Wakko asked, unable to stop a grin as he pulled Dot to her feet.
She dusted off her jeans. "Hey, a girl's gotta know how to defend herself when her brothers aren't around."
"Quit yer jibber-jabberin' and get me down from here! Ink's rushin' to my head and all!" Yosemite cried.
"Couldn't tell!" Dot called back, but darted toward the end of the snare nonetheless. She tripped the wire and he dropped to the ground like a rock, squashing a bit before springing back into shape.
"Good shot Sammy."
"You convinced I'm a good guy now?" he asked.
Wakko stared at them and wondered why Dot was giving him such an appraising look. Finally, she grinned at him. "Yeah…yeah, I think I am."
Yosemite smiled – actually smiled – and his whole face looked ten years younger. "Well dang, little lady, glad to hear it. Now git a move on, let's hog tie these hooligans before they cause us more grief – "
"Guess again, Sam."
Wakko caught only a glimpse of Rocky standing across from them, hat still crumpled, gun drawn, before Yosemite thrust him and Dot behind himself. Yosemite spread his arms out, using his body as a shield even though Wakko was a good head taller than him.
Rocky laughed in a cold, mocking staccato. "Ain't that sweet. The joint turned ya into a family man. Couple years ago ya woulda seen how much they'd go for in a round of craps."
He stepped forward, ushering a new wave of stench from the gun that made Dot finally gag. Rocky snickered, and Wakko could feel the heat radiating off of Yosemite. His head turned toward Wakko by only the slightest angle. "Take her and git," he hissed out of the corner of his mouth.
Then he turned his attention to Rocky. "You ain't welcome in this house, Rocky. Hell, you ain't welcome in this town. They locked you up for a reason. Yer nuts. Ya need to be locked away with no key – what do ya think yer doin' this time?"
"I'm finishing what I started. It's in my ink. You know exactly what I'm doin' and why. You should know better than anybody."
"Don't make it right. Just 'cause we're drawn with an inkling in mind don't mean it's the law."
Rocky sneered, and even though his hat obscured his eyes Wakko imagined that they had narrowed considerably. "Is that what the rabbit told ya? Brainwashed ya with a bunch a' new age mumbo jumbo? I'll kick his buck teeth in when I have the chance. Me and you both know we need to stick to our nature. Always look out for number one."
Tension was building between the two toons like electricity. Someone was going to break. For the first time Wakko noticed that one of Yosemite's hands was now resting on his pistol. He let his own hand creep toward his hammerspace.
"Ya got it all wrong," Yosemite said, "It's your choice, see. Took me my whole life to realize it, but ya always got a choice."
Rocky's mouth bent in disgust. "What is this? Who the hell are you? Forget this joke yer tellin' yerself. Come with me – bring yer two darling little angels with ya – I got a, eh, a job openin' for ya. C'mon, Sam. Ya always were the best at what ya did."
Yosemite's body tensed, and Wakko grabbed Dot's wrist. He wasn't sure what he was planning to do – pull her out of the way, run for it – but he knew something was going to happen. He'd just gotten his sister back, and there was no way he was losing her again.
Yosemite straightened up and said in a clear, booming voice, "Sorry Rocky. I already got me'self a job. It's makin' sure these kids stay the hell away from you. And you know me: when I do a job, I do it right."
The little bit of Rocky's face that Wakko could see darkened. The room seemed to have gone still, waiting to see what happened next. "Fine," Rocky spat, "then I've made my choice. Your loss, Sam."
It happened very fast. Rocky squeezed the trigger and a jet of green liquid burst from the gun. At the same moment Yosemite pushed Wakko and Dot away with all his might; a loud pop, like a car backfiring, and a whoosh of air exploded from his hands, and Wakko dimly registered that this was toon energy before he and his sister were hurtled backwards across the room. They landed together in a mess of limbs and fur, with Wakko all but crushing Dot beneath him. A shot rang out from Yosemite's pistol, but Yosemite let out a strangled cry of pain just as Rocky yelped in shock. Wakko got to his knees and turned to see what was going on.
He would never forget what he saw. Yosemite was still on his feet, but Wakko could see straight through the hole in his chest where Rocky stood, clutching his arm in agony, his gun gone. Yosemite must have shot it right out of his hands. But it took Wakko a moment to realize that this was wrong, very wrong – Yosemite's body was sizzling away before him. Rocky had shot him with DIP.
Wakko gasped and turned away immediately. He locked eyes with Dot, who looked back with fear and confusion – she hadn't seen what had happened. Suddenly overcome with a desperate urge to shield her from the sight, Wakko pinned her to the ground, blocking Yosemite with his body. This only made Dot struggle, and it was hard to hold her when he was already shaking so badly.
"What happened – let me up, let me see – "
He tried to wrestle her down, but she managed to get her head under his arm. She screamed, and he couldn't help himself, he looked too. The only thing left of Yosemite was his hat. Wakko felt like he was going to be sick.
Then he looked up, and his eyes met with Rocky's face. Comprehension seemed to dawn on him, and Rocky growled like an animal. Wakko's body began acting independently of his brain: he grabbed Dot, hauled her to her feet, and sprinted for the door.
It was all Wakko could do to keep the revulsion in his stomach and not let it boil up and tumble out of him. But this was hard, because the sound of Dot's cries and screams was splitting him in two, grabbing a hold of his heart and squeezing it until it burst. He pulled on her arm, trying to drag her to the car, but she pulled back with surprising strength, making him stumble.
"No – he can't – Sammy!"
"Dot, c'mon – "
"Let go of me – SAMMY!"
Hating himself, Wakko grabbed hold of her with both hands and pulled. Despite her squirms and protests she was no match for him. He was all but dragging her to the car now. She tried to kick him, she tried to wriggle away, she even tried to bite him, but Wakko kept pulling. He wanted nothing more to get her away from there, to get into the car and drive away into the night and never look back. He was numb.
God, he wished Yakko was here.
He could feel her tiring because her struggles were becoming less and less wild. She was now merely jerking against his tugs, and by the time they got to the car he nearly had to lift her into the passenger seat. Wakko jumped the hood and threw himself behind the wheel, his hands shaking as he turned on the ignition. The engine stuttered violently until it rumbled to life, and Wakko was pretty sure he completely took out Bugs' mailbox in the wild U-turn he made to get out of the driveway.
It wasn't until Bugs' house had disappeared from view that Dot burst into tears. Wakko gripped the steering wheel as he listened to his sister's sobs. He hadn't the slightest clue as to what to do or say. He'd never seen her cry like this before. It was the worst sound he'd ever heard.
Dot clung to her brother, afraid that if she let go of him he'd disappear out of her life just like Yosemite had. She listened to the slow and steady sound of his breathing as he slept. He'd driven them to the outskirts of Toontown, finally coming to a stop in an alley behind a convenience store, at which point she'd lost control. As long as they were driving away, what had happened at the house couldn't catch up with her. But as soon as Wakko turned the engine off all her problems swirled around her at once, and the loss of Yosemite came crashing down around her.
Dot looked up at Wakko with a frown. She'd screamed at him. Told him that it was his fault that Yosemite was gone. She'd hit him. The whole time Wakko hadn't said a single word, he just let her rant and yell and cry. And when it was all done and she'd crumbled into bitter tears, he reached out and held her until she stopped. Dot didn't care that Wakko didn't have a lot to say sometimes – he'd known exactly what to do.
Dot squeezed her eyes shut and pulled closer to him. She didn't deserve a brother like Wakko. Not after what she'd done to him. And yet here he was, both arms wrapped around her shoulders, tongue lolled across his face. If she'd lost him to that snake Rocky like she'd lost Yosemite, she didn't know what she'd do.
Rocky…
Dot shuddered. Just thinking of him made it hard to breathe. It filled her chest with a crushing dread like she'd never known. He was the reason she wasn't sleeping now, despite the fact that she'd never felt more exhausted in her life. Every time a shadow moved outside the car she'd nearly had a panic attack, convinced it was him, him and that gun…
There was something about being a toon that gave her a sense of invulnerability, so to see the toughest toon she'd ever known come to an end before her in a matter of seconds made her mind grind to a halt. It just couldn't be. He couldn't be gone. She'd never get to talk to him again, he'd never show her another one of his fancy pistol tricks or call her a 'dang broad,' she'd never see him get all riled up when she beat him at checkers…
Dot's throat tightened and she buried her face into Wakko's stomach. Her attachment to her brother had grown fierce. No one could take him from her. No one, ever.
The sound of footsteps outside made her heart stop. Perking her ears up, Dot shrunk lower into the seat. Had she heard right, or was it her sleep-deprived mind playing tricks on her? Holding and her breath and listening, she nearly cried out when she heard more footsteps. And voices. Definitely voices.
"Wakko…Wakko, wake up…"
"Huhh…five more minutes…"
"Wakko, there's someone outside!"
Wakko blinked a few times, groaning as he shifted in his seat. "Some…outside…what?"
It took him a moment to take in his surroundings and recall where they were. When he did, Dot saw the flash of recognition and anxiety in his eyes. They ducked down beneath the windows, with Wakko all but throwing himself on top of her. Dot whimpered as the footsteps drew closer…she listened for the click of Rocky's boots, convinced this was it…she'd fight him if she had to, she'd mallet him til he couldn't see straight…
The dim light of the sunrise was obscured as a head peeked into the passenger window. Unable to help herself, Dot craned her neck uncomfortably, trying to see if she recognized the outline of Rocky's hat or Pete's full cheeks. It was hard to tell.
"It's them!" came a muffled cry of joy from outside the car. The figure outside the door began to pound on the window with one hand while waving frantically with the other. Dot and Wakko frowned at each other for a moment before sitting upright. If it was Rocky or Pete, Dot was pretty sure they wouldn't bother knocking. Squinting in the light, Dot leaned forward to get a closer look.
"Oh my – " she choked out, grabbing Wakko's arm, "Skip!"
Dot lunged forward and opened the door. Skippy blanched the second before she tackled him straight to the ground in a ferocious hug.
"I, uh…missed…you," Skippy managed in spite of the fact that Dot was pretty sure she had squeezed the breath right out of him.
"I missed you so much!" she said, realizing she was crying but not caring, "I'm so happy to see you, I can't believe you're here…how…how in the world did you find us?"
Wakko let out a bark of shocked laughter and was on the ground too, clapping Skippy on the back.
"I don't believe it – Dot, Wakko – "
"How'd you find us!"
"I missed you!"
"I can't even begin – "
Dot pulled back to look at him. He had a black eye and a few scratches on his face, but his smile was still wide and irrefutably Skippy's.
He squirmed in her grasp to look over his shoulder. "Buster, c'mon over, they're here!"
Both Dot's and Wakko's heads shot up to see Buster, eyeing them with a slowly spreading grin and waving. Seeing him was like a breath of fresh air, despite the fact that he looked like he'd lost a fight with a lawnmower. His ears were shredded, and chunks of his fur were missing. There were bags under his eyes that gave off the impression that he hadn't slept since she'd last seen him. It didn't matter; she'd nearly forgotten that seeing him was normal, that she'd once had a normal life.
"Hiya kids," he said with a laugh, and Dot and Wakko wasted no time into flinging themselves into his arms.
"You guys sure picked the right place to park, we've been hiding out here for a while. I'd recognize Scratchy's car anywhere," Buster said. He turned to Wakko with an ear-to-ear grin. "And since when did you learn how to drive?"
Wakko puffed up his chest proudly. "Since I spent the last couple weeks practicing."
"Where've you guys been? What happened? Tell me everything. Have you seen Yakko? What about the others?"
"Wakko was with Scratchy and I was at Bugs' with…with S-Sammy, and…no, we haven't…seen Yakko…" Dot began. She looked at Wakko, who looked back at her sadly. The full weight of the last few weeks was settling back on her shoulders, and the realization of what had happened to them was like a massive wall that loomed over them, blocking out the sunlight. They'd lost Yosemite, they had no idea what had become of Scratchy and Bugs, and she hadn't heard from her oldest brother in weeks.
Buster seemed to understand the hesitance in her voice. "No Yakko, huh? What about Babs?"
Dot and Wakko exchanged glances. "We thought she was with you. Did something happen?" Wakko asked.
Skippy bit his lip and looked at Buster, who had stiffened. He ran a hand through his ears and sighed, struggling to keep the pain in his face to a minimum. "Well…when we got jumped in the desert, we…she and…we got split up. I tried to find her. I looked everywhere, but half the time I got chased off by those damn weasels. I…I don't know where she is. But – "
" – but we'll find her," Dot finished.
Wakko nodded. "Yeah, and we'll find Yakko."
"And Bugs, and Scratchensniff," Skippy added.
Maybe it was the fact that they wanted so desperately for it to be true, but it the assurance in what their words was remarkably encouraging. It wasn't speculation and underlying fear anymore, it was a fact that they would find the ones they loved. Buster's ears perked up, and the smallest of grins twitched across his mouth. He slung his arms around their shoulders.
"What happened to you guys while I was gone? With all this inspirational nonsense we might as well drive over to Disney."
Yakko hadn't moved since the weasel guards had tossed him unceremoniously back into his cell. He was pretty sure he'd lose his lunch – not that he'd had any – if he did. So he lay on the floor, curled on his side, reveling in the firmness of the ground while praying for the stench of the ink to fade.
Inexplicably, he thought of the day that Scratchensniff had called him at their apartment in Manhattan. He remembered sipping tea, and how normal it was, how clean and safe. That felt like lifetimes ago. Had that even been him? The cell walls seemed to press upon him, and he was overcome with a violent urge to claw his way through the stone and compacted dirt and to the fresh air. Somewhere over the last few weeks he had lost part of himself. He should be crying or screaming or something, anything, but no, he was oddly disconnected from it all. Fearing for his life at every given second was growing exhausting. He was so dangerously close to not caring anymore. The thought should have frightened him, but it did not. He accepted it objectively, like someone had told him it might rain tomorrow.
He stiffened when he heard feet pad in his direction. Someone was close to him, right next to him in fact, but he didn't have the energy to move. The fight had been knocked out of him and left cowering in the corner of the Blot's lair. But he flinched when fingertips lightly grazed his shoulder. He was surprised he'd felt it – and here he'd thought he'd forgotten the texture of sensitivity. Yakko cracked an eye open and squinted through his mask. One of his cellmates was kneeling next to him. The rest were sleeping in the corner.
"How are you?"
As Yakko suspected, it was Molly. He snorted. "You ever see a zookeeper throw a hungry tiger a piece of meat? I'm the meat."
Molly let her hand rest fully on his shoulder. Her movements were stiff and careful, making Yakko wonder what hell Bosko had put her through. "God, I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?"
"Tell the tigers to try going vegetarian."
"Aside from that."
Yakko didn't answer. He was getting a headache.
"Here." She handed him a chunk of bread and a cup of water.
"No, I can't take that, it's yours," Yakko said gruffly. "You won't get anything else until tomorrow. You'll be starving."
"What, and you're not? It's the least I can do."
Yakko regarded her for a moment. Realizing that he wasn't going to win this argument, he took the bread and finished it in two bites. He gulped down the water as Molly watched.
"Thank you, Ears. You saved me back there. Again."
"I guess chivalry isn't dead after all."
"I mean it." She leaned closer to him until their masks were nearly touching. "Ears, I…I trust you. I think you're a decent guy. So, I've got a proposition to make."
The former Yakko would have dreamt up about fifty smart-aleck retorts to this, but the Yakko lying on the ground in a cell decided to let the moment be.
Molly swallowed. "I…I think I've figured out a way to break out of this place. But I can't do it alone."
Beneath his mask, Yakko quirked an eyebrow. "Let me guess, you want me to ask Gums to help you."
"After everything that happened you can find a way to be sarcastic. Impressive."
"Lots of practice."
"What do you say? Are you with me?"
Yakko shut his eyes. He'd been trying to escape since day one, but as far as he was concerned this place was sealed tight. Then again, he wasn't exactly Houdini and didn't have too much experience as far as escaping cells was concerned. And not to mention that very high likelihood that he would be killed. There was that too. Shouldn't that bother him more? And of course the Blot…a shudder shook Yakko's body, and he tried to squeeze the memory of the DIP out of his mind.
But his heartbeat reminded him that Wakko and Dot were still out there, waiting for him, and as long as he was in here he wasn't going to find them anytime soon. The need to see them again was like a burning fire in his chest. Every moment spent in the Compound was another moment spent separated from the other two parts of his soul.
With more effort than he expected, Yakko propped himself up on his elbow. "You say you got a plan?"
He could almost feel Molly grinning. "An idea, yes. A plan, no. But, two heads are better than one, right?"
"We'll just keep telling ourselves that."
He stared at her for a moment. The scope of his choice was dawning on him. They were going to attempt the impossible. It could very well be the last thing he ever did. One shot of DIP to the back and he'd be wiped from existence, not even a memory. Wakko and Dot would never know what happened to him.
"Look," he said quietly, "I think if we're gonna do this, we should at least see each other's faces. Just in case…if anything happens…just so someone would know the other was here – "
"I agree," Molly said quickly, as though she didn't want him to complete the thought.
Reaching for the hem of his mask, Yakko hesitated. He had a recognizable face, there was no doubt she'd know who he was. And she probably had an idea that Bosko and Mortimer were looking for him. She could turn him in without a second thought. But, for once in his life, Yakko decided to go with his instincts instead of his brain. He decided that he trusted her too. He didn't have much of a choice.
Making sure no one was looking, Yakko lifted the mask off his face, letting the cool air touch it. Molly's hand jerked from his shoulder and to her mouth as she gasped rather violently.
"Yakko!"
"The one and only," he said, clearing his throat and speaking in his normal voice. "The original United States Canada Mexico Panama." Damn, he didn't know this girl was a fan of him too. Good to know he still had it going on, even in a prison camp –
"Yakko, it's me."
For the first time, she dropped the husk from her voice and Yakko frowned. But before he could even process the familiarity of the voice, she reached up and tore the mask from her face, and his stomach flipped over. His jaw went slack as he stared at her, utterly dumbfounded.
"Babs?"