Chapter 19: Oswald the Lucky Rabbit
As he'd fallen into a troubled sleep the night before, Yakko had hoped that Babs' temper would subside by the morning, and that like any sane, logical person, she'd recognize that their current predicament overrode any ridiculous and groundless judgment against him.
Nope.
Yakko marched beside her, occasionally throwing glances in Babs' direction as they trudged the miles toward the border. Despite his efforts, she'd barely said a word to him since they'd gotten up before the sun rose, and when she did talk it was only in terse snippets born out of necessity: "We should go now." "I don't need help, my ankle's fine."
She was very talented at ignoring him. He wondered if she'd had practice with Buster. At the moment she was staring resolutely ahead, squinting in the harsh sun, pretending that he was trivial annoyance similar to the sweat on her brow – something that could not be helped but that she had to deal with.
Yakko rolled his eyes. For how many times he'd been told he was good with the ladies, it was a joke. He didn't understand girls. At all. They were insane. All of them. Where did she get off treating him like yesterday's garbage for hooking up with Minerva? He was a free agent at the time. And Babs was – or had been, whatever – dating his best, after all. Didn't she get that he could have easily lied to her? This was what he got for being honest. The silent treatment. Brilliant.
"There it is."
Babs' clipped tones dragged him back to the present. She was staring ahead (just where he'd left her). Quivering in the heat haze was border control. Even from a distance it seemed intimidating.
"We can't really walk up there and say 'hi, we were kidnapped and now we're trying to sneak back without our kidnappers knowing. So do us a solid and keep a lid on it, will ya?'" Yakko muttered, "I think we might – hey, Babs, where are you going?"
"Crossing three miles down."
"Babs, hold up!"
She had already taken off so briskly that Yakko had to jog to catch up with her.
"You're going to have to talk to me eventually, you know," he said.
"No I don't."
"There, see? You just talked to me."
Silence.
He followed her another three miles until they reached a desolate stretch of the border. Yakko scanned the area for guards and didn't see any, but he doubted that meant anything.
"You think this place is safe to cross over? I feel like I won't be able to put a toe on the US without getting tackled."
Babs shook her head. "I'm not going over the border."
"Eh, come again?"
"I'm going under it."
And with that she took a running leap that turned into a perfect dive straight into the ground. Before she smashed face first into the dirt she began to dig, burrowing into the ground like a drill. He blinked, then with a quick glance at the border and over his shoulder, Yakko dove after her.
He landed clumsily – he wasn't used to naturally dug tunnels, they were rougher and more crooked than the false ones built for the sets. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness he could see chunks of earth churning ahead of him as Babs dug. He followed, crawling on his hands and knees, trying to avoid dirt clods and clawed up roots.
"Babs, how far – ugh, worm – how far are we going?"
She either hadn't heard him or she was ignoring him. He was more inclined to go with the latter.
"Babs, what do I have to do to get you to talk to me? I'll tap dance. I'll mallet myself. Heck, I'll do both at the same time. Just say the word."
Nothing.
"I made a mistake, alright? I didn't mean to give away our plan, but I don't think that's what's got your ears in a knot."
She kept digging. They had to have gone at least half a mile by now. The tunnel was tight and hot, and his shoulders scraped against the walls of dirt.
"You're mad about Minerva. And you know what? I'm sorry. I'm sorry I even looked at her. I'm sorry I've treated almost every girl in my life like crap. I'm sorry I did the same thing to you. You didn't deserve it."
She stopped, as did he. Wow…he'd never apologized to a girl who wasn't his sister before. It made Babs freeze in place…maybe he was onto something.
"See? Knew you couldn't stay mad forever. I mean, c'mon, look at this face – "
"Shh!" she hissed, staring at the ground.
Yakko suppressed an eye roll. "It's bad enough that you won't talk, now I have to go mute too – "
"Be quiet will ya? Don't you hear that?"
"You're the one with the ears, I don't…wait…yeah, I hear something…it almost sounds like…"
"Footsteps," Babs finished for him, finally looking at him with wide eyes.
Yakko whipped around. The sound was coming from the other end of the tunnel.
"Move," he commanded in a steady voice, grasping Babs by the shoulders to turn her back to her digging. "Just go up, as fast as you can!"
She obeyed without any complaint, clawing towards the surface as Yakko watched nervously over his shoulder. The footsteps were echoing in the tunnel now, getting louder with each step, and with a sickening swell in his stomach he could hear a faint, "Bo, Bo!"
Babs' foot slipped above him and he gave her a boost, scrambling up after her. Light appeared in pieces as she broke the surface and the scent of fresh air filled the tunnel. Just like leaving the Compound. He gave her another push and she disappeared over the edge, seemingly into the sun. Grabbing the ledge he hoisted himself up and over as well.
Scurrying onto his knees, Yakko said through gasps of breath, "Babs, run, I'll take them down and catch up – "
Something hard and heavy collided with his back, knocking the air out of his lungs as his face hit the ground. Lights burst in front of his eyes and Yakko was pretty sure he had stars dancing around his head. Somewhere in the confusion he felt nails scrape his scalp, and then a fist clenched in his hair, pulling him painfully back up to his knees. The putrid stench of DIP filled his nostrils.
"Knew you'd, eh, resurface eventually, heh heh heh. It pays to pay border control, I tell ya."
Yakko growled at the sound of Mortimer's voice, but this only made the rat laugh harder. "Aw, miss me?"
Yakko twisted in his clutches to find Babs. She was clamped in Mugsy's vice grip – he only knew she was there by her pink ears that stuck out above his arms. He struggled against Mortimer, who yanked him back, shooting pain down his scalp and neck. "Don't worry, yer girlfriend's just fine. And, look, here's our ride!" He pointed to the black van that was heading in their direction. It sent dirt and rocks flying as it slid to a stop next to them, and Bosko jumped down from the cabin.
"Surprised you didn't need a booster seat," Yakko commented, which earned him a kick in the stomach. With Yakko now doubled over, Bosko eyed him imperiously while Mortimer snickered.
"Hope you enjoyed your little joyride as much as I did, bub. You put us in one ugly mess."
Yakko glared up at him, but his eyes widened: the side of Bosko's face that had been hit with DIP looked terrible, almost like an exceptionally bad burn. All of the fur on his cheek was gone, exposing rippled, bubbling red skin. It looked as though several layers had been stripped clean off. It had barely missed Bosko's eye, which was stretched tight in one corner by the mangled skin.
"Yeah, looks like you're the ugliest part of it," Yakko shot back.
Mortimer burst out laughing at this, but to Yakko's surprise, Bosko grinned. "That was a good one, really! And look at ya, makin' tracks back to Toontown. Bet you was tryin' to go back to little Wakky and Dottie, is that right?"
The smirk vanished from Yakko's face and his jaw was clenched so tightly it hurt, but he didn't care, he just glared at Bosko with every bit of hate he could muster.
"Don't worry," Bosko continued, "they'll be well taken care of. Rocky's been seein' to that, I expect. And in fact, because of your little stunt, the Blot himself is on his way there right now!"
On instinct, Yakko gave an aggressive jerk. This caught Mortimer off guard enough to actually twist out of his grip, but Yakko had barely gotten off his knees before Bosko had a DIP gun pointed straight at his chest.
"Ya got lucky with yer first getaway. And ya only get one free pass." He turned to Mugsy. "Git these two losers in the van."
Wakko flattened his body to the ground, trying to blend in with the grass and waning light. He was sandwiched between Dot and Buster, with Skippy taking Dot's other side. He copied the rest of them and pulled out his own set of binoculars from his hammerspace. Peering through them, he surveyed Pete's Christmas Tree Farm from the security of their distant hill. The thick rows of trees stood silent and still in the darkness – it would be pretty if he wasn't so nervous.
"There's a cop car there…" Buster murmured.
"It's Pete's," Wakko said. When everyone turned to stare at him, he added, "He's posing as a cop. That's how he found me and Scratchy."
Dot's eyes narrowed behind her binoculars. "So that means Pete's present and accounted for."
"And maybe Scratchy will be present and accounted for too," Wakko added.
Skippy lowered his binoculars and frowned. "How are we gonna find him in all these trees?"
"By getting up off our butts and looking," Buster answered with authority. In one movement he grabbed them all by their collars and hopped up to his feet, dragging them up with him. Wakko barely had time to register that he was standing again before he noticed Buster already marching to the fence line. Wakko gulped. He'd been bugging them to investigate Pete's place for weeks, but now that the moment was here he was nervous.
He felt a gentle nudge at his back. Looking down, he found Dot staring up at him with wide eyes. "C'mon Wakko. Maybe Yakko's in there."
There were no words to express how desperately he wanted to believe her. He refused to get his hopes up, there was only so many times they could be crushed…but even he couldn't hold down the small bubble of possibility.
He and Buster helped Dot over the massive chainlink fence (despite here outraged protests that she could handle the "stupid fence" on her own). Once she was up and over Wakko followed, landing cat-like in the soft dirt on the other side. Loose needles were strewn across the ground, and they poked his feet as he walked. The whole place smelled pleasantly of pine. Wakko wondered what it would be like to grow in a forest – no, in a treehouse, with no other buildings or cars or people around…
It was easy to imagine such a thing in this place. Trees surrounded them on all sides, looming over them as they walked in silence. Dot had scooted so close to him that her elbow was knocking into him with each step.
"It's so quiet," Skippy whispered. He seemed to be shrinking in on himself.
Buster rolled his eyes. "What did you expect? Evergreens aren't exactly the chattiest bunch."
"What was that?" Dot hissed.
They froze, huddled together, each staring off into a different direction. "What?" Wakko shot back, frantically scanning the lines of trees, "What is it?"
"I just…I thought I saw something…"
His eyes were playing tricks on him in the night. Every shadow was a weasel ready to attack him, each tree was Pete, or Rocky, waiting for the chance to grab him by the throat…
"Let's keep moving," Buster muttered.
Deeper and deeper into the trees they went; Wakko realized it would have been smart to leave some kind of trail to find his way out again. The lot was far bigger than he could have imagined, and there was no way to distinguish one black pine tree from the next. Nearly an hour had gone by when Dot started whining about being cold, but he ignored her. Mostly because he was cold too and it only made it worse.
"Stop," Skippy said suddenly.
They came to a halt again, but this time Wakko had heard it. A rustling in the trees that did not belong to them. And again. Dot whimpered, and Buster reached behind his back. A swell of foreboding overwhelmed Wakko, and his heart began to pound in anticipation –
There was a vicious howl, and nearly a dozen weasels burst from the trees like gunshots. One of them slammed into Skippy, flattening him to the ground, and Wakko had barely managed to dive out of the way when another clipped him in the shoulder. Pain shot up his side as he landed awkwardly on his hip. Next to him Skippy was struggling with a particularly burly weasel, and Wakko kicked out, catching the weasel hard in the stomach. It wheezed and rolled to the side; Wakko grabbed Skippy and pulled him to his feet.
"Thanks!" Skippy cried, but in the next second three more weasels were upon them. Wakko squirmed out of the way, losing Skippy in the melee.
"Wakko!"
Dot's cry sent him running blindly in her direction. He collided with two weasels, sending them straight to the ground and his view was clear; Dot was attempting to climb one of the trees while simultaneously throwing pies at the weasels below. It seemed to be only semi-successful as half her pies got tangled in the branches beneath her. Wasting no time, Wakko whipped out his mallet and swung – it struck the foremost weasel in the chest, sending him hurtling into the other one.
"Nice one!" Dot cried as she jumped down from the tree. She dashed to his side just as more weasels emerged from the tree line.
"Wakko! Dot!" Buster bellowed from the fray. Wakko could barely see his blue ears poking over the weasels' heads. "Buster!" Dot called out, but the weasels were surrounding them, pushing them back.
Wakko knew he didn't have a choice – a dozen more weasels were bearing down on them. He grabbed Dot's hand and tore up the nearest hill. The trees whizzed past them in a dark blur as they sprinted, their feet pounding stray pine needles into the dirt, their breath heaving in and out of their chests. The weasels hissed and snorted behind them, darting in and out of the trees like snakes. Wakko was suddenly very aware of the rhythm of his feet as they hit the ground, of his breathing, of Dot's breathing. He noticed when her breathing turned into sharp wheezes, and he grabbed her by the shoulder when she began to slow. She was tired, he knew, but this wasn't exactly the time for a break.
"This way!" she gasped, yanking him to the right. He followed without question, and their sharp turn threw off the weasels, who scurried in a different direction. Wakko, who was watching them over his shoulder, felt Dot jerk his arm again. He turned, only to find himself in front of a small, shed-like structure, nestled in a copse of pines.
Wakko dug his heels into the ground when she tugged him. "No way Dot, what if someone's in there?"
"You have a better hiding place?"
"Good point."
She wrenched open the door and they leapt inside. He and Dot collapsed back against the door and gasped for breath. As Dot bent to lean on her knees, Wakko glanced about the room. It was small and dark, except for a tarnished lamp on a table against the wall. The fur on the back of Wakko's neck prickled. Why was there a light on in a shed?
A shadow flickered against the wall. Someone was in the shed with them.
Instinctively, Wakko threw himself on top of Dot, knocking her to the ground like a domino.
She squirmed under his weight. "Wakko! What the hell?"
"Excuse me, but is that you, Dot?"
They both froze at the sound of the voice. It was so familiar…it couldn't possibly be…
"Brain?" they asked in unison.
The impressive frontal lobe of none other than Brain appeared over the edge of the table. "There is no logical explanation for why you two should be here at this moment," he said.
"Brain!" Wakko and Dot cried happily.
Wakko scrambled up from the floor and dashed to the table, immediately scooping up Brain and clutching him to his chest.
"You're alive!" Wakko trilled.
Brain let out a painful grunt. "True, but not well," he said through gritted teeth. "Put me down, or I shall be forced to take serious action."
Frowning, Wakko quickly placed him back on the table. Dot smacked him on the arm and said, "Good going Wakko, don't you see his legs? Brain, are you okay? What happened?"
As Brain heaved himself into the lamplight, Wakko noticed that both of his tiny legs were wrapped in makeshift splints. He looked thin – for a mouse, anyway – and his normally snow white fur was mussed and gray.
"I believe the more accurate query here would be, 'what did not happen,'" Brain said, wincing slightly, "but I can only assume you two are hiding from someone – or something?"
"Yeah, that seems to be the name of the game lately," Dot muttered.
"And what about the oldest one – Yakko – where is he?"
Dot turned to Wakko, who answered, "We don't know. We got split up near Pendleton – "
"When was that?"
"Um, November, I think?"
"And what of Dr. Scratchensniff, and Bugs Bunny?"
"We haven't seen Bugs either…" Dot murmured.
Wakko nodded. "Scratchensniff is missing too, I think Pete got him." Jeez, they were striking out here more than he'd thought.
"Pete?" Brain blurted, "The same thug who's held me prisoner here for the last two-hundred and twenty-two days?"
"But who's counting?" Dot said, "C'mon Brain, tell us what happened!"
Brain peered at them from beneath his large forehead. "As I'm sure you have surmised by now, I was kidnapped from my home by a pack of weasels. The ruffians brought me here, where it became apparent that Pete was up to something nefarious. As it turns out, those weasels are clones from an original – a weasel by the name of Psycho, who was lured here by Pete, no doubt with promise of Pete's various extracurricular substances.
"After I'd been spirited here by those flea-bitten mongrels, Pete took it upon himself to explain to me that I'd be perfecting a so-called 'Machine,' so that he and some unnamed cohorts could continue to create more of the undesirables. They were particularly focused on making their creations water-resistant, as they'd noticed a flaw with the weasels' water solubility. An issue with ink, as it were. Pete and company were clever about it – I use that term loosely, mind you – in that I was never given the full plans for this Machine. I was never privy to the source materials for these toons, but through logic and deduction I have come to suspect that they are created from other toons."
Dot's hand was glued to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. Wakko's jaw dropped so suddenly it banged against his chest; embarrassed, he pushed it back into place.
"At first I refused. I did not want to be credited with such sins against nature. I used my time to plot my escape, but it was thwarted by one of Pete's weasel goons." Brain gestured to his crippled legs. "As you can see, Pete made it so I could not escape so easily again."
"So Pete's trapped you here and forced you to do all the work his sick, twisted little pea-brain came up with?" Dot asked with rising disgust.
"That's just the beginning, my friend. In addition to my work on the Machine, Pete has also tasked me with a far more deadly project. As I am sure you are aware, Pete and his fellows have been creating DIP from the sap from his pine trees and the petroleum from ToonGO. But they can't disintegrate everyone who crosses their path, can they? Who would they have left to control then?" Brain said with a humorless laugh, "No, that wouldn't be practical. So they have a next step. Another level in the plan."
"What?" Wakko and Dot asked together. They locked eyes, and Wakko knew what she was thinking. Freaky sibling thing.
"Mind control."
"What?" Wakko asked again, but this time Dot shushed him.
"They have an ink," Brain said breathlessly, and Wakko had the chilling impression that the scientist in Brain was excited about this in spite of himself, "I wish I knew where they got it…but this ink, it has strange properties…they – well, largely myself – have been developing an airborne contagion from this ink, one that, when inhaled, submits the infected under another being's control."
"So Pete can control people's brains now?" Wakko asked, horrified. Pete's own decisions were bad enough. He couldn't imagine if they were multiplied.
"It hasn't been successful when Pete's applied the Mist. I suspect the toon in control would be the source of the ink itself."
"Who'd the ink come from then?" Dot demanded.
Brain shook his head. "That information regrettably remains classified."
The shed grew quiet for a moment, and Wakko let the information wash over him. A mind control mist, made out of ink? Great. If they weren't doomed before, they certainly were now.
Suddenly, Dot slammed her fist on the table, making him and Brain jump. "But how could you go along with this? You knew it was hurting toons! Your project could be hurting our friends, or my brother! How could you? Why couldn't you have faked the experiments, or sabotaged it, or something, anything – "
"Dot, cool it!" Wakko cried. He yanked her back from her battle charge by the shoulders, and he could feel she was positively hot with anger beneath his hands.
"No no, all valid points from the presumptuous young lady," Brain drawled, "But they would have realized immediately if I was a saboteur, and most likely murdered me on the spot. A noble death for certain, but a wasteful one. I felt that my talents were best utilized in another way. Yes, I created accurate and, if I may be so bold, groundbreaking updates to their weapons. But that, my friends, is what some people refer to as a cover."
Dot was breathing heavily through her nostrils, but she no longer felt like she was going to combust on the spot. Wakko decided to accept this as progress.
"In my spare time I've been developing a side project. For the greater good, as it were."
"Wait, you had spare time?" Wakko blurted.
Brain ignored him. "Long ago, Dr. Scratchansniff and I had come to the realization that we cannot stop unscrupulous toons from making DIP. Thus, our only other option was to stop the DIP itself. He and I had been developing an anti-serum, though that work was interrupted by my untimely capture. I don't know what Otto has been up to, but I took the liberty to pursue the remainder of the project independently.
"I have a prototype available, FLIP, as I like to call it, but unfortunately it is still in beta form as I have no means to test it. If I could get my hands on some of that DIP…but alas. You can see it, it's under the floorboards, just over there."
Wakko followed to where he was pointing and lifted the loose floor boards. Several viles filled with bright pink liquid were nestled together in a small hole.
"Take them," Brain instructed, "Keep them hidden. You will have more use of than me. Keep in mind, they haven't been tested yet…there is the slight possibility that may erupt into flame upon contact with the air, but that is doubtful. Mostly."
Wakko stuffed them into his hammerspace. Pulling her gaze from the viles back to Brain, Dot said, "I'm sorry about what I said, Brain. You were really brave."
"Um…what did you mean when you said we'd have better use for this FLIP stuff than you?" Wakko asked.
Making an attempt to draw himself up, Brain surveyed him steadily. "Look at my legs. Do you think I'm going anywhere with these cumbersome things? Think about it – would I still be here if I could have left?"
Wakko bit his lip, but Dot glanced at him before countering, "Don't be crazy, you're coming with me and Wakko! We'll get you out of here! We just have to find Buster and Skippy, and then we can figure out how to stop that numskull Pete right in his tracks – "
She was cut short as a heavy fist pounded against the door.
"Let me in," came Pete's voice, boisterous as it was malicious, "or I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow this house to smithereens!"
Yakko tried to remember if he'd ever been in a worse situation than the one he found himself in at the moment. He didn't know where his siblings were. His best friend and Bugs were mad at him. Toons were being kidnapped. He'd just survived a prison camp, only to drive away the girl of his dreams and get caught again a day later. And now he found himself in the back of a dark van, being held down by Mugsy. For all he knew – he prayed it wasn't true – they were going straight back to the Compound. If he wasn't worried about getting another kick in the ribs, he would have let out the raw wail of defeat that had threatened to burst from him ever since he'd been caught in the desert all those weeks ago. It was exhausting keeping it inside this whole time, what he wouldn't give to let it free. What good was he, really? He couldn't even keep himself out of trouble, let alone his siblings and his friends. All of them would have been better off without him.
He didn't know what he'd do if he thrown back in the Compound again. Part of him begged for sweet release, to grab the first DIP gun he could get his hands on and turn it on himself. It would be quick – probably not painless, but still quick. But another voice inside him, the quiet but strong one, told him that this was the coward's way out. Was he a coward? Sometimes he couldn't tell.
Yakko tensed when he felt the van stop moving. He twisted, but Mugsy's grip on his hands was strong. Somewhere on the other side of Mugsy's massive bulk was Babs, and he could tell she'd spent most of their two hours in the back of the frustratingly familiar van trying to squirm out of his grip. He wished he could tell her to stop, that she'd wear herself out, but anytime he tried to talk one of the weasels pointed a DIP gun at him. Not that it mattered, he wouldn't have trusted his voice in speaking to her. He could only imagine what she must be thinking of him right now. Nothing good. He couldn't silence the throbbing refrain: she probably wishes Buster was here instead of me.
Outside he could hear Bosko and Mortimer muttering excitedly to one another. The van doors flew open, but no sunlight filtered inside; instead, Yakko was nearly overwhelmed by the smell of gasoline. Before he could make move, Bosko hollered, "Mugsy, bring 'em inside!"
Yakko was lifted off his feet like a ragdoll, and by the sound of Babs' protests of "I can walk, ya know!" he assumed Mugsy had done the same to her. His eyes darting rapidly, Yakko realized they were in some sort of garage, and for one horrifying moment he thought they'd been taken back to the Compound. But no, the walls were made of cement and plaster and steel, not hollowed out earth. Bosko and Mortimer lead them through the garage to a large, steel-plated door. Above the door was a giant sign in faded blue and red letters: ToonGO.
They crossed the threshold and the sign disappeared. It was replaced by an even stronger smell of gasoline and a balcony overlooking an immense factory space. There were dozens of vats, all filled with petroleum; weasels scurried about the vats, sliding through their crevices, attending to the various valves and pressure monitors throughout the plant. It was hard to make them out in the dark and clouds of steam that blanketed the concrete floor.
"Beautiful, ain't it?" Mortimer asked. "Ownin' yer own petroleum plant is like growin' yer own DIP – ow, what the hell'd ya do that for?"
Mortimer rubbed his ribs as he glared at Bosko, who'd elbowed him. Bosko's eyes flicked to Yakko and Babs, but Mortimer just muttered, "Pssh, like they didn't know anyway…"
Ignoring him, Bosko stepped forward into the light that cascaded down from one of the massive ceiling lamps. It had a cheap spotlight effect that, when combined with his five o'clock shadow and marred face, made him look like a mad showman.
"So…you two thought you'd go all Great Escape on us. Gotta say, that was pretty damn exciting. I'm surprised, really…I thought those cells were pretty comfy. And you, Warner – I told you ya wasn't to go nowheres, and you did anyhow. Seems to me ya got a problem with authority."
"I don't have a problem with authority, it's just that there was none," Yakko countered.
Bosko sauntered closer to him. His face was close to Yakko's now, and Yakko could see the way his burnt skin rippled and bubbled. He thought of Slappy, and his stomach churned. "You know what yer problem is? You don't know when to shut up. I could teach ya, ya know. I could show ya how to shaddup. I have a special technique. Some people wash out a dirty mouth wit' soap, but me…" Bosko grabbed the DIP gun from Yakko's pocket and help it up to Yakko's mouth. "…I think DIP works much better."
Yakko kept a stone face and pinned his mouth shut, trying not to breath in the horrible stench. Grinning darkly, Bosko pressed the DIP gun harder against Yakko's cheek.
"I've got half a mind to wipe that mouth clean off yer face – that is, unless you can answer me a question. Can ya do that, Warner?"
Yakko glared at him.
"Tell me, where are yer brother and sister? My buddy Pete's been havin' a hell of time getting those two to stay in one place."
His chest tightened considerably. They were alive…his sibs were alive…but Pete was after them? They were on the move? He'd been praying they were safe at Bugs'. All of his effort was thrown into keeping his face expressionless, and it was the hardest thing he'd ever done. Harder than anything in the Compound.
"Oh c'mon, just give me a hint. I'm sure you didn't leave darling Wakky and Dottie all alone without a babysitter. You still tie their shoes?"
Yakko refused to answer. He saw Babs try to kick Bosko's shin out of the corner of his eye.
"What, no answer? Well, let's see what one, little squirt of DIP does to loosen yer tongue – "
"No!" Babs shrieked.
"Babs don't!" Yakko hissed, but Bosko had already turned his attention to her. "I noticed you brought yourself a piece of tail for the road, Warner," he said, nodding in Babs' direction. "Nice choice, I gotta say. Ya probably coulda done better, but I guess pickings were slim. Too bad she's hiding too much under that jumpsuit. Mugsy, give her to Mortimer."
With a wicked grin, Mortimer extended his hand out to Babs as though he were offering to dance. Babs sniffed and turned up her nose, but Mugsy thrust her into Mortimer's grasp, and he gleefully slid a hand around her waist and tugged her against his side. The fur on the back of his neck rising, Yakko twisted wildly in Mugsy's iron grip, growling threats and obscenities, but it was useless. Babs made a noise of utter disgust and tried to wriggle away from him. Mortimer dug his fingers into her hip.
"Feisty one, ain't she?" he said with a laugh. He brought his hand to her cheek, then slipped it under her jaw to turn her face towards his. "C'mon sweetheart, give Morty some sugar – "
Without a second's hesitation Babs tried to bite him. Mortimer pulled his hand away just in time with a "Yikes!" accompanied by Bosko's mocking laughter.
"Let go of me ya creep!" Babs snarled, desperately trying to kick him in any sensitive area. Mortimer yelped again and was forced to dance out of the way while still trying to hold onto her.
Still laughing, Bosko pointed his DIP gun directly at Babs' face. Both she and Yakko went still, a deathly silence falling over the platform. Bosko turned to face Yakko, and the look on his face sent a shiver down Yakko's spine.
"Don't point that at her!" he yelled.
Bosko quirked an eyebrow at him. "What about now, Warner? Now will you tell me where your brother and sister are hiding?"
"No Yakko, don't – " Babs began, but Mortimer clamped a hand over her mouth.
Yakko's eyes flicked from the gun, to Babs' face, then to Mortimer. He could only offer guesses to Bosko, but that would only be if he was willing to sell out his siblings, which he solidly was not. But there was no way he was about to let Bosko so much as pump the DIP gun in Babs' general direction. There had to be some way out of this, but what…what would Bugs do…what was he going to do…
Bosko's finger tensed around the trigger. "Out with it Warner! Where the hell are they? Tell me now or I do the same thing to her that you did to me!" His voice jumped up several pitches in a bizarrely familiar way.
Yakko's heart was pounding so hard it hurt. Across from him Babs was trying to shake her head beneath Mortimer's grasp, and her eyes were so wide and fearless that it made his chest ache.
"Why are you even looking for us?" Yakko shouted, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could stop them, "What did we ever do to you? We didn't even know you! They're just kids and you're just low-life tabloid fodder, what could we possibly have to do with you?"
All eyes were on Bosko now, who in turn stared back at Yakko with a calculating glower. They held each other's gazes for far longer than Yakko would have ever guessed, so long that the muscles in Yakko's back were beginning to throb from straining against Mugsy.
Suddenly, Bosko proffered a rope from his hammerspace and threw it at Yakko's feet. "Tie 'im down, Mugsy."
Yakko could only watch as Mugsy dutifully picked up the rope and looped it around his body in slow, clumsy circles. He jerked and twisted in the massive toon's grasp, even landing a few kicks, and it was about as effective as a mouse punching a bear in the arm. The rope wound about him, tighter and tighter, and soon his arms were pinned to his sides and his ankles were completely bound.
"Okay Wartimer," Bosko said finally, never taking his eyes off of Yakko, "take the girl and Mugsy for a walk. See what you can get out of her, then do whatever you want. Keep her alive though – try to, anyway. Warner and I need to have a little chat."
"Call me that name again, I dare ya."
"Just do it!"
Mortimer muttered under his breath, but finally turned to Mugsy.
"You heard him ya oaf, move it!" he barked, throwing a rock from his hammerspace at Mugsy's head. It bounced off dully. Mugsy didn't even blink. But he let go of Yakko, who dropped to the floor. He lunged for Babs immediately, which in retrospect was quite stupid considering his feet were tied together. He hit the ground, hard. Mortimer and Bosko burst into laughter, though Mortimer's was cut short after Babs connected a knee to his abdomen with a solid thwump!
Trying to glare at her between his coughs and gasps Mortimer grabbed her by the ears and yanked her out of the room. Mugsy followed with heavy footsteps. Babs struggled against him; she was so tiny in his arms that her kicks and wriggles were almost comically pointless. Waiting until they were out of earshot, Bosko turned on him with a dark look. A cloud of steam burst from the factory behind him, framing him in eerie mist.
"Let go of her!" Yakko growled, animal-like, "Let her go or I swear I'll – "
"Or you'll do what? Shout at me to death? Oh, the horror," Bosko drawled. "Ya know, I knew you Warner kids were dumb, but damn, I didn't know ya were as dumb as Fudd. What do you want with us? We didn't do anything!" he cried in a mocking imitation of Yakko. This devolved into cruel laughter, an effect that was petrifying given his mangled face and dim lighting. "What did you do, Warner? You did everything, and it's all your fault!"
"My tax returns make more sense than you," Yakko snapped.
"Oh please. Drop the act kiddo."
Yakko grit his teeth. "Don't call me that."
"Aw, is that what Daddy Rabbit called you?"
The shock must have reflected on Yakko's face because Bosko continued, "Yeah, the mink told us all about you and Bugs. I bet he changed your diapers. And I bet you let him, because you and rest of those idiots in Toontown think he walks on water. Well, newsflash, he don't! He's just a hack who got lucky 'cause a' bunch a' studio bozos had their heads so far up their bums they couldn't see a star if he punched him the nose!" Bosko punctuated this by pounding his fist in his hand. Steam was actually starting to pour off of him in his anger.
"Touchy subject, eh?" Yakko muttered.
Bosko grabbed him roughly by the ears and yanked him forward. Yakko felt several hairs rip from his scalp. "All talk and no action, just like the rabbit."
"No action? I thought I did everything…but then, compared to you, maybe not. I didn't kidnap dozens of toons and deform then for my own twisted will. Boy, have I been lazy."
"God, just shut up, will you?" Bosko roared, "you were born, that's what you did! And if you weren't bad enough, your brainless skank of a mother was stupid enough to produce two more of you brats. If she'd had any brains at all she'd have drowned ya like I – like she was told. But she didn't. So then the least she could've done was keep ya little vermin outta sight. But nooo…unless getting yer own goddamn show on national television means 'outta sight!' What a witless, worthless woman…that's what I – I mean, that's what ya get wit' born toons. Go figure."
Blood was pounding in Yakko's ears; he still wasn't sure what Bosko was talking about but the idea that someone – let alone Bosko – knew more about his own mother and didn't tell him was strangely infuriating. He twisted against the ropes, which rubbed angry burns into his fur and skin. "She tried to keep us out of sight – she ignored us. She pretended we weren't there. We barely left the house. But what do you care? And who told her to drown us? For the last time Bozo, what are you talking about?"
"I didn't know she was a born toon!" Bosko shrieked, outraged, "I didn't know you three were born! No one can know, Warner, you're an abomination and I won't have you ruin my reputation!"
Bosko's voice jumped up several pitches with his last few words. Just like his own voice always had when he was surprised or stressed. Yakko suddenly felt dizzy, he felt sick, it couldn't possibly be…
"You…" Yakko said slowly, "you're not my – "
"DON'T EVEN SAY IT!" Bosko bellowed. He whipped out the DIP gun, pumped it once, and aimed it directly at Yakko's chest, who froze in shock.
A frying pan appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and landed on Bosko's head with a sharp clang! Bosko dropped the gun and, with his tongue sticking out of his mouth in a goofy way, fell to the ground face first, out cold. This revealed another figure behind him, still clutching the frying pan. Yakko stiffened. Who was it now? It was too short to be Mortimer or Babs…maybe it was another weasel…but whoever it was had ears, long ears…
For one heart-stopping moment Yakko thought it was Bugs; but then the same figure stepped out of the mist. "Hi," he said, "let me introduce myself. I'm – "
"Oswald!" Yakko blurted.
Oswald blinked at him in surprise, his brow puckering slightly with frustration. "Hey, how'd you know?"
"Because I met you, months ago, at Slappy's funeral."
"Darn…I was hoping you'd forgotten about that. Look, I had a bit of a speech prepared. Let me try again." Oswald extended his hand. "Hi, I'm Oswald, and I'm your grandfather."
Dot gasped, her heart in her throat. She exchanged a panicked look with Wakko. She knew what he was thinking. We're trapped.
Wakko began pulling his mallet out from behind his back, but Brain held up his hand. "Don't struggle."
"He just told us he was gonna blow us to smithereens!" Wakko growled.
"You'll only exacerbate the present situation. He has well over one hundred pounds on both of you combined, which puts you at a statistical disadvantage."
Dot rolled her eyes. "Thanks for the pep talk."
"Get a hold of yourself. You have the FLIP. Do not let him know this under any circumstance."
As gently as she could manage Dot scooped Brain up and cradled him to her chest. She couldn't stand the thought of Pete hurting him more. Another heavy bang on the door made them all jump, and Wakko positioned himself in front of her so she was nearly out of sight. She tried to push around him, but he held her back, protecting her like a shield.
One last bang and the door broke clean from its hinges and landed on the floor. Pete leered at them, and his eyes shown wild and white against his dark fur. He tried to step inside but he became wedged in the doorframe; after several grunts and missed attempts he finally thrust himself through, shattering it in the process.
"Miss me?" he asked with a guffaw.
"Yeah, like a hole in the head," Dot shot back.
Pete's eyes dropped to where Brain was nestled in her hands. "Look at dat, ya caught a pest. Sorry runt, but you're gonna have to find dinner somewhere else, he's mine!"
Pete stepped forward and Wakko pushed her further behind him with a growl. A moment passed before Pete exploded with laughter. "Well well well, ain't that precious! Big brother, to the rescue! Careful, last two gentlemen who went around protectin' dat little princess met a sticky fate, heh heh."
Dot's fists clenched, but a strangled yelp from Brain reminded her that she was nearly crushing him and she stopped.
"First your loudmouth brother was stupid enough to get himself DIPped, then we got Yosemite wiped away like a bad stain. Dat one was fun, to tell ya the truth."
It was though someone had dumped a bucket of ice all over her. "No!" Dot shouted shrilly. Her voice sounded high and squeaky and not like her own.
A cruel smirk cracked across Pete's face and it made her hate him. "No what?"
"Yakko's not DIPped. He's not dead!" Wakko shouted. There was something manic about the way he said it, as though he was convincing himself it was true.
"Cool yer jets! I never said he was dead, did I?" Pete drawled, "I just went and said he got DIPped. He's alive…well, sorta. Your buddy Rocky is babysittin' him right now."
"He's bluffing," Dot snapped. It couldn't be true. Yakko was smarter than that. And the thought of him stuck with Rocky made her sick.
"Is that right?"
She did not like the way Pete was grinning. She held Brain, who was watching everything with an even scowl, closer to her. If she concentrated she could feel his little heartbeat against her chest. Pete was reaching into his hammerspace now, and the hand that wasn't holding Brain clutched at the back of Wakko's jacket. He was shaking.
At first Dot couldn't see what Pete had pulled from behind his back and held up in the air. Whatever it was was small and hidden in his meaty hand. But then the lamplight caught it, and with a jolt she realized it was Yakko's cell phone. Or it least, it looked like it was.
"Nice try," she scoffed in a falsely confident voice, "hate to break it to ya, but they make more then one of each phone. That's not Yakko's."
Pete's grin stretched impossibly wider, giving off the impression of a bloated jack-o-lantern. He pressed a button on the phone. A tinny recording of Dot's own voice echoed in the small shack.
"Yakko, it's Dot, please answer your phone! This isn't funny! Pick up, do you hear me? Pick up!"
Dot's stomach dropped so fast she was certain she was about to throw up. Hot, angry tears threatened the corners of her eyes. Wakko glanced at her, his question all over his face. "I left that message on Yakko's phone the day he disappeared," she whispered to him in a rasp. She'd never expected to hear that message again in her entire life. She sounded like a scared little mouse.
"Believe me now, buttercup?" Pete asked before laughing once more.
"Yakko's not…he can't…" she sputtered. She was cut off by Wakko, who lunged forward with a dog-like growl. Pete caught him mid-jump with ease, only to hold him up in the air and laugh as Wakko tried to punch and kick him to no avail. Dot's feet were frozen to the ground as her mind flickered between a dozen fragmented thoughts and ideas…grab Wakko…mallet Pete…was Yakko hurt? The only thing stopped her from curling into a sobbing ball on the floor was the vehemence with which Wakko was now trying to land a hit on Pete.
A flash of white materialized in the doorway. Minerva was now standing there, smirking and perfectly framed in the moonlight. On either side of her was Buster and Skippy, both being held at bay the duel DIP guns she held in each hand. The stench was overpowering; Buster looked like he was about to be sick. Skippy looked like he'd already been sick all down the front of his shirt. Dot locked eyes with the two of them and saw the same kind of hopeless panic that she felt churning inside her.
"Well look here! See what the mink dragged in!" Pete roared. "The lush and the girl squirrel."
Buster glared at him. "Stuff it up your – "
Before he could finish, Minerva shoved the tip of her gun against his temple. Buster gagged, and she clucked her tongue. "I swear your head's made of concrete. How many times have we played this little game?"
Pete balanced his free hand on his hip. "Pretty fine haul we got here. Whaddaya say we take the kiddies on a little field trip?"
"Yeah right," Wakko and Dot snapped simultaneously.
Pete turned to face them slowly, and Dot had a terrible sense of foreboding. "Ya won't go, huh? Well, sounds fine to me."
He promptly dropped Wakko to the floor. Wakko was so stunned his knees buckled and he landed in a heap. Still clutching Brain, Dot scurried to help him to his feet. But her eyes were on Pete. What was he playing at?
Minerva seemed just as confused as she was, since she snapped, "What the hell fatso? How much pine have you been sniffing? We need to take them to you know where!"
Pete spared a moment to glare at her before saying in an offhand manner, "We can't force 'em to go. Not if they don't wanna. Just so's they know that if they don't go, we're gonna have to give good ol' Yakko a DIP cocktail. Boss won't be happy if he don't have the complete set."
Dot felt Wakko stiffen beside her as her own blood ran cold. Buster and Skippy were now staring at them with wild eyes. This was a threat she could not bluff past, and she knew Wakko was thinking the same thing. They were going to have to give in. Stop running. Brain remained silent in her hands.
"Fine," they said. In perfect unison.
Wakko's jacket was wrenched from her grasp as Pete grabbed them both by the scuff of the neck.
Yakko cocked an eyebrow. "Ex-squeeze me? I thought I just heard you say you're my grandfather."
Oswald scratched one of his ears. "Er, well, at least I think I am."
"You think you're my grandfather."
"Yes. You find that hard to believe?"
"Extremely."
"Well, nice to meet you again anyways," Oswald said, still holding out his hand.
Yakko rolled his eyes. "I'd love to, really, but aaahh, I'm a little tied up at the moment."
"Oh! Sorry, hang on."
Oswald scurried forward and began to work at the ropes. Craning his neck to get a good look at him, Yakko frowned. After nearly five minutes of Oswald grunting and tugging at the ropes, Yakko finally heaved out another sigh and grumbled, "Okay, maybe it's time to try a plan B with the whole untie me thing, don't ya think?"
"Oh, yeah, I suppose, haha," Oswald said with a laugh that reminded Yakko of Mickey Mouse. He whipped out a gigantic pair of scissors from behind his back. "You know sometimes I forget I have a hammerspace. Isn't that silly?"
"How can you forget something like that?"
"Over the years, when you don't have any cartoons and everybody who hasn't forgotten thinks you're scum, well, you kinda don't feel like reaching back there anymore."
"I had mine taken away and I almost got killed trying to get it back. Think about that before you just forget about yours."
Yakko felt the cold metal of the scissors slide up his back. The fur on his neck was on end again, and he was suddenly quite nervous.
"Why are you helping me?" he asked, trying to sound tougher than he felt.
"I told you. You're my grandson. I've got a lot of lost time to make up for."
There was a quick, metallic sound of the blades coming together. The scissors cut through the ropes smoothly, and the shredded pieces fell around his feet like shed pieces of skin. Yakko rubbed at the sore spots on his arms.
"That, and Bosko and his buddies are up to no good, and it's about to get worse. See – "
Yakko glared at him. "Listen, as much as I'd love to sit and chat about your fascinating back story, can you walk and talk? I've got to get Babs out of here."
"Babs?"
"Pink rabbit I came in here with."
"A rabbit huh?" Oswald said with a grin. "Finally. Girlfriend?"
Feeling himself getting frustrated, Yakko ignored him. "Mortimer took her somewhere in this factory. Where would he go?"
Oswald thought for a minute, crossing his ears and sticking out his tongue in a way that reminded Yakko strongly of Wakko. Maybe there was some substance to this whole 'grandfather' thing.
His ears standing up stick straight, Oswald nodded suddenly. "Follow me!"
Yakko watched as Oswald took off down the balcony and into the corridor at a surprising rate. Shrugging to himself, Yakko chased after him.
"I'm sorry about all of this, Yakko," Oswald huffed as they ran, "This is my mess you're in."
Yakko caught up to him. "So then why are you after us, my sibs and me? We didn't do anything, we didn't kill those weasels like everyone seems to think. And my sibs, they wouldn't hurt a fly – well, Dot has her moods, but she's just as violent as any other teenage –"
"I'm not the one you need to worry about," Oswald said, "though you might want to hurt me after all this is through…this all started back in the twenties. You see, me and Bosko were some of the first toons ever drawn. I was Disney, he was Warner Brothers. Top dogs, we were. Other toons were being drawn left and right, but no one could match us. We had a bit of a rivalry going, to be honest.
"The animators, they drew us girlfriends all the time. Different girls for different needs for different shows. They were drawn to be pretty props that were head over heels for us and nothing more."
Yakko's stomach twisted. He could remember a time not too long ago when that was all he wanted.
Oswald continued. "They were boring as all heck, but what other choice did we have? I was living the high life, and girls were just an added bonus. But then one day, they drew Ortensia. She was a knock-out, a real special gal, and darn it if she wasn't the funniest, nicest thing…she got my fire going, you know?"
"Trust me, I know," Yakko muttered. God, where was Babs…
"In one of my last episodes, they needed her to be pregnant. So they redrew her so she was so. Full term and all that, she was huge. And then the next you know Walt got in a tiff with Charles and I was out on the street. Just like that. They drew me to be their star, and then within a day I wasn't even able to get a gig as an extra. It was just me and Ortensia. And then there was Bosko, laughing at us all the way to the bank. Too bad, really – it wasn't long before he got the boot too. So we got to watch as a mouse and a rabbit took our places at our beloved studios. The studios that betrayed us.
"Years went by. More and more toons were getting drawn to be stars, but we'd been forgotten. Bosko got himself in trouble with the law, over and over again, usually in some ill-conceived scheme to get famous again. But me, I didn't mind it so much. I had Ortensia, and with the baby in her belly it was almost like a little family. After about fifty years, us drawn toons start to want that kind of thing…a wife, kids…but you don't get that unless they're drawn for you."
Bugs' face flashed in Yakko's head. He shook it out – he was already distracted enough as it was. Luckily Oswald was leading the way through the maze of hallways.
"But I guess after fifty-odd years of being pregnant, you get a little fed up with it. Morning sickness and all that. Ortensia wanted to have her baby, she told me so. But I didn't know what I could do for her. She was drawn that way. And no toon had ever been born. That was just crazy. No one thought it could be done. But then again, we were no-names for so long, I didn't think it could hurt to ask."
Yakko tried to catch glimpses of Oswald's face as they ran, but he seemed to be hiding it. Oswald continued, "I searched and searched until one day, I found an animator who would do it. He helped Ortensia have her baby. It was a girl. The first born toon."
There was a note of sadness in Oswald's voice that resonated out from within. Yakko felt as though it was pulling out his insides, carving them out and leaving them hollow, because a small voice in the back of his mind was whispering to him how the story would end.
"Then what?" Yakko asked. Did he really need to know? He ran faster.
Oswald sighed. "I thought we were complete then, our own little family. But babies don't stay that way forever. They grow up. That, along with the fact that Ortensia wasn't the size of a small blimp anymore, people talked. I didn't even know they remembered we existed. But they talked about us. About her. About my little girl, Odelia. The rumors, the insults, the looks we got – Ortensia couldn't take it. Neither could Odelia. My girls were miserable. But there was another problem too, something we could never have predicted. Other pregnant toons started taking after Ortensia's and my example. Toons were being born, hundreds of them, and they started multiplying. Drawn toons were revolted, Yakko. I can't even tell you how disgusted they were by it."
"I have an idea," Yakko said darkly.
"And guess who the finger got pointed at? Us. Me and my beautiful Ortensia. We got blamed for 'the blight of toondom.' So she ran off, leaving me and Odelia on our own. I raised her, as best I could, but she couldn't stand me. Odelia left me when she turned sixteen."
Yakko did his best to keep running, even though he was feeling slightly numb. An image of Dot or Wakko walking out and never returning flashed through his mind. "Jeez Oswald, I'm sorry. Did you ever find them?"
"Well, I didn't…" Oswald said with an unpleasant smile, "Did you forget about Bosko?"
"With his charm and good looks, how could I?"
"He liked ladies. He liked them a lot. But only Inkblot ones, like you and me. He didn't think any of the others were worthy, I suppose. And there ain't too many of us, as you know. And Bosko with his, as you said, 'charm and good looks'…he drove off the few Inkblot girls who would go within arm's reach of him."
"Let me guess," Yakko said, feeling slightly ill, "he found Odelia, didn't he?"
"You got it."
"And I bet she never told him she was a born toon," Yakko pressed.
"Everybody knows only born toons can make other born toons," Oswald said in a choked voice.
Somehow, without any voiced decision, they came to a stop. Yakko found that he was breathing very hard, but not from running. His ears were ringing, he was sweating. Oswald was doing his best not to make eye contact, and instead was shuffling his feet and sniffing slightly.
"She didn't tell him she had a kid, did she? She…she didn't tell him she had three of them."
Oswald shook his head, his limp ears swinging dully with him.
Bile surged in Yakko's stomach. "Bosko's my dad," he muttered, "that lowdown, sleazeball, heartless, brainless, meritless criminal is my dad!"
His voice was suddenly much higher and he was finding it very hard to breathe. Somewhere distant he heard Oswald urge him to put his head between his knees, but he could barely hear it over his own gasps for air. A hand patted his shoulder. Great, like that was supposed to make him feel better. He was related to a scumbag who'd just tortured toons in a prison camp. Whoopie. It was like finding out you'd sold an old set of kitchen knives to a serial killer.
"That's why he wants to find us," Yakko said after taking several deep breaths, "he wants to kill us before any of the others find out we're his adorable little bastard kids. Great. Juuust great. How'd he even figure this out anyway? I spent weeks with him in the Compound and trust me, he ain't the sharpest tool in the shed."
When Oswald didn't answer Yakko turned to look at him. He was using his ears to shield his face again. Just like Wakko used to do when he was really, really little. Yakko was surprised he even remembered it. Irritated, Yakko snatched the ears out of Oswald's face with one hand and grasped the rabbit by the collar with the other. "Well, Gramps? How'd Bosko find out we're his?"
Oswald let out a shaky sigh. "Do you remember when I met you, at the funeral? Bosko and Mortimer had sent me there, as a scout. They figured a lot of important toons would be there, and they wanted me to take notes – "
"Why?"
"They…I shouldn't be telling you this…but they've got this plan. They're going to be stars again, but they've got to get all the big toons in Toontown first. They promised me that if I helped them, I would be a star too – don't look at me like that! You don't know what it's like, to be drawn to be in cartoons and have that ripped away from you! I'm not saying I don't regret what I did – I do, more than anything! That's why I'm helping you now!"
"I just – forget it," Yakko grumbled, "just keep talking."
Oswald was speaking very fast now. "None of them had seen you and your brother and sister since your show. We didn't know what you weren't drawn. So when I saw you, all grown up, I just, I couldn't believe it. And you looked so much like Odelia, especially the little one, Dot…I knew it, I just knew it, you were her kids. I did the math, it all made sense.
"But I was stupid. I tried to draw the attention away from you, even when that mink Minerva said you were asking questions about Slappy. I thought I was protecting you…but Bosko caught on. He thought it suspicious that I was trying to take the heat off of you guys. And then he stole my notes from the funeral, and saw that you guys were older…he started to panic."
"He sent the weasels after us in New York," Yakko said. It felt as though pieces of the puzzles were dropping into place without his bidding.
"He sure did. So when he heard you came back to Los Angeles, he left the Compound and snuck back up to spy on you. I don't know what he saw, but whatever it was, that sold it. He knew you were his kids. He asked his…his boss…the…the…"
"The Blot," Yakko supplied.
Oswald winced. "Yes. The Blot. He told him that you guys were a danger, and needed to be exterminated. But the Blot became fascinated with you. He's been searching for you guys ever since."
Yakko felt empty and shaky, as though he'd just gotten over a vicious fever. The last few weeks had been overwhelming as it was, and to have his family history dumped on him without warning was horribly uncomfortable, cruel even. He was furious at Oswald for all he did, and even more so for what he didn't do, but at the same time there was the desperate part of him that wanted to forgive him. Even though many questions had been answered, he now had many more…what had Bosko seen…what did the Blot want with them…how did –
An angry scream tore through the air, knocking him from his thoughts. "Mortimer," Oswald hissed, "quick, this way!"
They bolted down the corridor, past stinking vats of petroleum, past weasels that hissed and spit as the passed. The clanking of the vats reminded Yakko of the Compound, but he shut it from his mind. There was one path in front of him: get Babs, get out, and get his siblings. He'd worry about Oswald and Bosko later.
Oswald slowed down until he was tiptoeing. His heart pounding, Yakko had to hold back a frustrated yell. "Hurry up," he grunted through grit teeth, but Oswald shushed him and pointed to a balcony the next level up. It overlooked two rather massive vats. Yakko was suddenly struck by the powerful smell of DIP – it overwhelmed the sweat and petroleum aroma that defined the entire plant.
Having had plenty of practice at ignoring the DIP stench, Yakko narrowed his eyes at the balcony. Through the metal grid floor he could see there were several figures corning a lone one by the edge of the balcony. He glimpsed a flash of pink through the grating and with a wild beat of his heart Yakko realized that the lone figure was Babs, and with one false step she would most likely plummet into one of the vats below.
Yakko made to rush forward, but Oswald grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back. "Careful," he hissed, "I'll go first. Mortimer still thinks I'm on his side. And you – did anyone ever teach you how to cut?"
Yakko blinked. "Bugs did, actually. I've never really done it right, I almost lost my tail last time I – "
"Great, so you're an expert then," Oswald cut over him, "think you and the girl can cut out of here?"
"What? No way, I don't want to hurt her, I can barely keep myself in one piece when I do it!"
"Oh c'mon, you just need a little confidence!" Oswald said, punching him on the shoulder. Without elaborating, he quickly darted up the stairs, motioned for Yakko to stay low. Trembling slightly, Yakko crept up the stairs, and the balcony came a little more into view with each step. Mortimer was up there with at least three other weasels. On the other side of the balcony Babs was trapped between them and the ledge. It became clear that the vats beneath her were filled with two different substances: one with petroleum, and one with DIP. Her fur was mussed, as though she'd gotten into a scuffle, and she was clutching her mallet so tightly that her knuckles were pale. Mortimer, meanwhile, had a fat lip, and Yakko felt a swell of pride for Babs.
"Put the mallet down, dollface," Mortimer snarled, brandishing his DIP gun, "it ain't very ladylike. Just give it to Morty, I'll take if off yer hands…then I'll show ya what you can do with yer hands!"
Babs rolled her eyes. "Is that what you say to all the girls?" she drawled. "Puh-lease. I've heard better lines at amateur night."
"Shaddup," Mortimer barked. He pointed his gun at her, aiming for her chest. "Then talk to me, babe. Use yer mouth. Tell me where Warner Wimp's kiddie brother and sister are, and I won't put a whole straight through ya – "
"Mortimer!" Oswald crooned, emerging onto the balcony with far too much enthusiasm. Mortimer, the weasels, and Babs all stared at him in shock, though Mortimer's face melted into a sneer. "Whaddaya you want, Oswart?" he growled, "Can't ya see I'm busy?"
"Oh yeah, I can see, wooing the lady and all that," Oswald retorting. He plucked one of his ears clean off of his head and began examining it casually.
Still watching Babs over his shoulder, Mortimer smacked Oswald in the arm. "I'm guessing Bosko sent you as his little messenger boy again. What does that idiot want now?"
While Oswald babbled back some kind of baloney response, Yakko snuck further up the stairs until he was at the landing. He crouched low, blending into the shadows; Babs, noticing movement, looked in his direction. Her eyes widened as she realized it was him, but he quickly shushed her and motioned to Mortimer. But, to his horror, this caught the attention of one of the weasels.
Yakko could only grip the topmost stair and watch as the weasel yipped "Mo, Mo!" and poked Mortimer in the side. Growling, Mortimer slapped its hand away and snapped, "Quit it you ugly little mutant!" With a roll of his eyes, he turned back to Oswald. "Now tell me idiot, what does Bosko want? Not that it matters, I'm pretty much the boss a' this operation at this point, the big boss ain't none too happy with him at the present."
"Well, it's not so much what Bosko wants as what I do," Oswald said, absently tying some sort of knot in his detached ear.
"What could you possibly want? Talent? Class C status? Tell me."
"I want…this!" Oswald shouted. In the blink of an eye, Oswald tossed his ear at Mortimer. It stretched, toonlike, and Yakko realized that he'd fashioned it into a lasso. It looped perfectly around Mortimer's gun. Before the stunned mouse could even react Oswald jerked it away and caught the gun with one deft swipe of his hand.
Yakko needed no further invitation. He made a powerful leap forward, knocking one weasel straight to the ground with his body and another aside with a burst of toon energy. He dashed across the balcony to Babs, grabbed her hand, and turned. Mortimer had just thrown Oswald off of him and was now barreling toward them. Looking over his shoulder, Yakko could see the two vats below – petroleum on the left, DIP on the right. Mortimer was going to push them straight into the DIP.
Yakko and Babs shared a single glace. With a savage howl, Mortimer lunged for them. At the last possible moment, just as his dirty claws were a hair from their faces, Yakko and Babs parted and stuck both their feet out. Yakko barely caught a glimpse of the shocked look on Mortimer's face before he tripped over their feet spectacularly; Babs wheeled around and kicked him straight in the behind, sending him to the left so he landed in the vat of petroleum with an epic splash.
"Yes!" Yakko and Babs cried simultaneously. He turned to her, and she to him, and her flushed face was beaming at him.
"Go!"
Unwillingly, Yakko turned to Oswald, who was holding off the weasels with the stolen DIP gun. "Cut outside!" he said, "To the west entrance! I'll meet you there!"
"But – "
"Go, now!"
"Yakko, what – " Babs started, but without further hesitation he grabbed her wrist and, concentrating heavily on the outside, on the scent of fresh air, on the warmth of the sun, he shut his eyes and took a single step forward.
He felt incredibly strange, pained even – it was as though four different people had surrounded him, each taken a hold of one his arms or legs, and pulled in opposite directions. It only lasted for a moment though; the next thing Yakko knew he felt dirt beneath his toes instead of metal. He didn't open his eyes at first, he was afraid to. Instead, he tried to sense just about everything else. The warmth of Babs' wrist in his hand. The tickle of the breeze on his fur. The blessedly fresh smell of the air. Swallowing dryly, he opened his eyes.
He was outside. He'd done it.
Yakko whipped around. Babs was standing there, still beaming at him. Then, in the next second, she was babbling.
"Yakko – how did you – Oswald! Did you…I don't…I didn't Mortimer any – I can't believe – we escaped, we've got to go – where's Oswald – Yakko – "
The events of the last two days began to settle on him. Everything had been turned on its head. He'd been a captive, and then he was free. He'd been close to Wakko and Dot, but at the same time miles and miles away. He'd been an orphan…and now, apparently, he had a grandfather who wanted forgiveness and a father who wanted to kill him. The only solid thing, the only thing he could hold onto and know for sure was Babs, and she was standing here in front of him, still gorgeous, still astounding, still mystifying, and they were both alive. He couldn't take it anymore. Yakko reached forward, cupped her cheeks in both hands, and pulled Babs to him.
It wasn't so much a kiss as it was him smashing their faces together. His lips moved across hers hastily, but firmly, it was the only way he could even attempt to convey all of the overwhelming fear and confusion and pain and relief. He was kissing her, Babs, he was kissing Babs, and god was she soft. And warm. And just right. He could feel everything all at once, the smallest movement of her jaw, the flicker of her heartbeat, the pounding of his own.
Wait a minute. He was kissing Babs.
Yakko ended it as quickly as he started. He jerked away from her, still holding her face in his hands as if he was anchored there. Good lord, he was dizzy. And warm. He felt weirdly warm. Babs was blinking at him with a look of complete shock on her face. Was that a bad thing? To be fair, she'd had a bit of an unusual day. In the next second he realized that he was mirroring her look back at her. He'd just kissed her. That was the type of thing you were supposed to do after a romantic dinner, not in the middle of the desert after just escaping from two lunatics at a petroleum plant.
Say something, you idiot.
Yakko desperately racked his mind for something witty and charming to say, but his brain had suddenly decided to go on strike. Didn't his stupid brain realize that now was not the time? The best he could think of was 'You smell good considering we haven't showered in a while.' He stared back at her in what he could only assume was a stupid manner, so he opened his mouth, hoping words would come out of it.
But any words he had vanished in his throat, because suddenly she had that confident look. She grabbed a fistful of his collar, yanked him forward, and kissed him back. Her free hand ran through his hair and tangled in his ears, sending shivers radiating down his spine. Somewhere in the haze that surrounded him Yakko's hands found her waist, her back, her sides. She was exquisite. She was spilling into his blood, spreading through his veins, pumping from his heart all the way to his fingertips. She exhaled needily, and the feeling of her hot breath against his face erased every last thought from his brain.
"Ahem…"
Babs pulled away from him, leaving Yakko disoriented. It took him a moment to comprehend that Oswald was tapping his foot and staring at them both. He must have just cut from the plant. "I realize you two are busy," he said with a smirk, "but we should get moving. Mortimer and Bosko aren't gonna be too happy." He started to trot away from them, but glanced at them over his shoulder. "Don't mind me, just pretend I'm not here!"
Yakko rolled his eyes and sighed. But Babs nudged him in the side, and when she followed Oswald he swore he saw a small smile on her face.