31. "The More, the Merrier"

It was irrelevant whether they had simply forgotten that they should have been expecting visitors or if they had consciously decided that their guests would not be coming through, because one way or another, they were caught off-guard.

Not for lack of guarding, of course, as Little John was keeping lookout, facing due southeast toward their camp and the city beyond. Although their hideout had been located by the authorities, they still felt safer lingering in their familiar forest than in that strange suburban junkyard, and even though the heat wave was finally over, that godforsaken van still got stuffy. Therefore they were making their rounds, passively inspecting their beloved Sherwood for any signs of intruders and just generally hanging out before starting their day, but when Robin had to fulfill a bodily duty, Johnny took his staff and stood at the ready, facing the direction trouble was most likely to come from. In a perfect scenario, they would have had people protecting Robin from all conceivable angles, but surely it goes without saying that that was not going to be a possibility.

For his part, Robin had his bow and arrow ready to go should trouble find him while he was at his most vulnerable, but that wouldn't have made it any less inconvenient to actually need to use it. Their system was that they sifted through trash whenever it was convenient for them and collected all the coffee cans they could find to use as makeshift chamber pots, preferably the gigantic Costco-sized ones. With these placed on the ground, they each kept a toilet seat stolen from public bathrooms that suited the sizes of their respective posteriors; these seats would be placed carefully on top of the cans (unless it was an emergency, in which case, screw it, go for it seatless) at which point it became a careful balancing act so the seat didn't simply slide off the lip of the can. Robin, Johnny, and all three of their former teammates had all had instances where the seat did indeed slide out from under them with the slightest bodily movement, causing their weight to come crashing down uncomfortably to the hard plastic or metal rims of the cans (indeed, in the seven years he'd been doing this, the most embarrassing injury Robin had acquired was a cut on his bum in the shape of a perfect circle, courtesy of a very sharp plastic Hills Bros. can), but the risk was worth the comfort of not having to squat and shit on the ground like some kind of animal. Besides, this way you could just carry your waste to the nearby creek, rinse it out to reuse it, use the toilet paper you brought along to clean it out if need be, and wash your hands in the water while you're at it. Inarguably a better system than leaving evidence of your existence on the forest floor for your enemies to find.

Robin didn't actually have much fear about being discovered. If anything, if a civilian came across him doing his business in the woods, they'd likely freak out and run away - hell, there was a good chance that even a cop would run away in shock and embarrassment, too. So he was completely calm as he sat there facing west toward the nearby creek, dawdling, taking his sweet time, spinning the roll of toilet paper around on the finger of his uninjured left paw, and using the opportunity to practice his singing. Singing had always been his Achilles' heel as an actor; he wasn't deplorable at it, but he certainly didn't have a natural talent for it like some other people he knew, and life of crime aside, there was no way he was going to get cast in a musical at this rate. If he were ever going to be as good a crooner as Johnny, he needed to strengthen his pipes.

"IIIIIIIII'm shiiitting in a tiiin caaaaaan…" he sang to the roll of Charmin on his uninjured left paw, "I reeeally haaad to poooooo, buuut III diiidn't haaave a loooooooo…"

Hrm, not too bad, he'd say he was in that zone where any listener would agree he sounded like he at least functionally knew how singing was supposed to work but wasn't necessarily actually good at it, maybe good enough to do karaoke on the weekends without embarrassing himself but not good enough to make a run on American Idol. Really, his biggest fear was that he was going to need an instructor to get him to the next level, someone who could point out the things he didn't even know he was doing wrong. Then again, Johnny was entirely self-taught, though he was helped immensely by coming from a long line of bears with golden voices, which made Robin wonder if this was just something he wasn't built to do while people like Johnny were, but he told himself he'd never get better if he gave up now-

Snap! went a twig in the northward distance. And come to think of it, he could hear the sounds of people coming closer, footsteps on hard dirt and voices murmuring.

"Er, J-Johnny, I need help!" Robin called as he nearly slipped off the toilet seat and coffee can altogether.

"Aw, c'mon, Rob! You can shoot a fuckin' bow and arrow with both hands, but you can't figure out how to wipe with your left!?" Little John grumbled loudly in the distance behind Robin. "For the fifth time, I'm not doing that for ya! That's where I draw the line!"

"We're not all as ambidextrous as you, Johnny!" Robin replied shakily; with no time to properly clean up, he shoved a wad of toilet tissue into his anal cavity and pulled up his pants. "But I need backup!"

"The only reason I can use both my hands the same's because my old man knocked me upside the head with a Jack Daniels bottle when he saw me using my left! Do ya need me to do the opposite for you!?"

The footsteps were getting closer, but the voices had extinguished. Robin didn't even have time to zip up his fly or button the back around the top of his tail; he had to lunge over and grab his piece before they got a good look at him first. At this point whoever was coming could surely hear the Merry Men screaming at one another, so with the opportunity for a preemptive ambush out the window, Robin needed to play some good defense.

"No, Johnny, s-someone's coming!" Robin hollered as he trained his arrow toward the direction of the moises, fully expecting them to walk around a large bush and an adjacent tree any moment now.

"Someone's coming!?" Little John hollered back, followed by the sounds of his own footsteps making haste toward the latrine.

"Yes! We have-!"

The wolf in the red shirt and the beanie and the fox with the yellow collared shirt with the off-center stripe both took half a step out from behind the obscuring bush, then upon seeing the arrow pointed at their faces, stepped back a bit and put their hands up, their nervous eyes darting around being the only motion they kept making.

"...guests," Little John said to finish Robin's sentence as the bear came upon the scene. "...Jesus, Rob, why didn't you just say we had company?" he asked as he relaxed his staff.

"Erm… b-because I hadn't recognized who was coming, and I-I quite literally got caught with me pants down, and…" Robin stammered as he lowered his bow but didn't put it down. "...I'm not proud to say it, but I panicked."

"Um…. I-i-is this, um, not a good time?" Double-D asked, out-stammering Robin. The boys still had their hands in the air.

"So between what I overheard about wiping and something that smells worse than Ed's armpits after gym class…" said Eddy, no longer startled and now safely in the territory of annoyed, "I'm guessing we walked in on you in the middle of taking a-"

"Eddy!" Double-D chided.

"What?"

"Yeah, ya walked in on him taking a dump," said Little John. "No biggie-"

"Johnny!" Robin chided.

"What?"

"Can we put our arms down now?" asked Eddy.

"Er- y-yes," Robin said, still trying to get back to reality. "At ease, lads."

The wolf and the little fox relaxed their arms (if not their minds, in the wolf's case) and turned their gaze to the bear, who seemed to be the one who'd be easier to talk to right then.

"Just, uh…" Little John thought aloud, "Jus-just- you kids come with me for a sec while we give Rob a second to, uh… ahem, clean up his mess."

"Thank you, Johnny," said Robin, and he held up a finger on his right hand to symbolize a quick moment. "I-I'll be with you lads in just a-"

"Wait a minute, what the fuck happened to your arm!?" Eddy interrupted.

"Oh, dear, I just noticed that as well!" Double-D added. "Are you alright, Mr. Hood?"

Robin looked down at the forest-green plaster that he had forgotten wasn't already a citywide news headline. "Oh-oh, yes! We haven't seen you lads since this happened, have we? Erm… a-all this and more will be explained in just a moment!" He just wasn't feeling his regular eloquent self with a giant wad of hygienic tissue stuck in his asscrack.

"Hey, let's, uh, let's head up to the waterfall, eh, kids?" Little John proposed as he walked past the boys and made his way due north along the creek.

Eddy and Double-D followed, Eddy looking thoroughly confused, but Double-D looking somewhat relieved after seeing Robin's cast.

"Are you having second thoughts, yet, Eddy?" the wolf asked slyly.

"Aw, hush," Eddy grumbled.

"Second thoughts about what?" asked Little John, who was so thoroughly convinced that the boys agreeing to join them was out of the question that the thought didn't even cross his mind that maybe they were referring to the offer he and his friend had made.

"Um- I-I suppose you can say that… all this and more will be explained in just a moment!" Double-D answered.

"Hm!" Johnny forced a nasal chuckle. "Rob, we'll be in the foxhole!" he called behind him.

"'Foxhole'?" asked the wolf.

"Yeah, just… just a nickname for a spot. Codename. You'll recognize the place when ya see it."

"And I definitely ain't complaining, but why's he get the naming rights for this spot?" asked the little fox. "Is there a bearhole around here somewhere we oughta know about?"

"Hm… y'know, kid, there should be," Little John thought out loud. "But this place… a little too small for me. So I'll let it slide."

"Then why we even going there if you can't fit in it?"

"Oh, don't worry, kid, it ain't that small. It's just a… a nice little intimate spot for conversation, y'know?"

"Great, just what we were in the mood for," Eddy grumbled, "even more talking and less doing stuff!"

Double-D elbowed him in annoyance. "Eddy, this was purely your idea!"

And overhearing that was what first gave Johnny the inkling that maybe the kids were thinking about tagging along after all - or at least that Eddy was and he, being the Robin of their friend group as far as the Merry Men could tell, had now dragged the others into it (but where was that bear kid, though?) - but Johnny didn't say a word. He was keeping focus and keeping his eyes peeled. The events of the last couple days had made him… not quite paranoid, but definitely not comfortable in this forest that no longer felt like home. And he'd be damned if he got ambushed on his own turf while escorting some innocent guests to a safer spot.

As for the two boys, they could clearly see that neither the fox nor the bear were their typical selves. Okay, yeah, they had walked in on Robin going to the bathroom, that could rattle anybody, but from what they'd previously seen of him, they were under the impression that he was the kind of guy who could magically play off any awkward moment smoothly, and yet he hadn't. Meanwhile, while they were led to believe that Little John wasn't normally as grumpy as they'd seen him so far and that he was actually quite chipper before the extremely recent stroke of excessive misfortune, today he didn't seem to be either of those things; perhaps they were stereotyping him a bit, but he walked into that scene holding his staff like a hillbilly brandishing his shotgun, kicking the door open from his shack and yelling at the mailman that he didn't want government employees on his 'prop'pitty'. Again, paranoid wasn't the best word, but he definitely seemed unsettled rather than run-of-the-mill grumpy.

But you know what? All the better. Double-D actually preferred that these two dangerous men be a little more vulnerable before he tried to talk to them, not only because they would feel like less of a threat but also because he honestly had trouble relating to them as people, what with their endless self-confidence in situations where it really would have been more appropriate and sensible to have at least some quantity of apprehension. And as for Eddy? Fuck it, let them be off their game and stay that way; if it gave him an opportunity to take control of this group earlier than expected, he'd take it in a heartbeat.

The three of them walked inside the tree line instead of going out into the open alongside the pond at the bottom of the waterfall, even though it was clear that they were tracing its shoreline. When they got as close as possible to the side entrance to the small cavern under the ledge, Johnny gestured for the boys to go ahead and walk along the water under the falls and wait for him there; he was just going to see if Robin needed help with anything. He scanned the area to make sure there weren't any boys in blue in the area that might see the Eds out in the open. Little John was hoping he'd made the right decision, staying behind to keep attention off them instead of being there to serve as a shield for any potential bullets their presence might attract; he ultimately told himself that his presence would attract more negativity than his protection would be worth, and he was relieved to see them disappear behind the water without incident. At that point, he went back to make sure his friend wouldn't be left alone among those dangerous trees, even if he was hardly a two-minute walk away.

Robin and Little John looked much more at-ease when they arrived in the "foxhole" under the waterfall, even with the left two-thirds of Little John's head and body being moderately to severely soaked due to the geometrical problems of him trying to squeeze between the wall of the cliff and the falling water. Despite the outlaws' sunnier disposition, their guests still looked more confused than anything.

"Apologies for keeping you waiting, gentlemen, but it's a pleasure to see you!" greeted Robin. "So if I may ask, what brings you here?"

"Well, Mr. Hood and Mr. Little," Double-D began, "we came to speak in regards to-"

"Wait, hold up," Eddy interrupted. "First, what the heck happened to your arm?"

"Ah, yes, it does catch one's eye, doesn't it?" Robin said coolly as he could, hoping to hide his disappointment that this cast was indeed the first thing people were noticing about him now. "Suffice it to say, boys, that I'm just fine now; it may take some time to heal, but I'm-"

"Yeah, but how did you break it?"

"Well, er-"

"Hey, guys," Little John cut in from above, the back of his head, neck, and shoulders up against the ceiling of the cave. "We ain't tryna be rude, but… it really is a long, long story, and we'd like to know what's up with you first. Because… we finally had a pretty good day again yesterday, and we wanna keep that momentum. We were just about to take off into town again before you guys showed up, so as much as you guys are cool and we like talkin' to ya, we… really ain't got the time to spend an hour talking in circles again. So… please. Let us know what's up with you, and then we'll explain what's up with us. Because there is plenty going on with us."

"Blimey, is there ever," Robin quipped under his breath. "But, er… yes, what Johnny said. What's up, lads?"

Ever the diplomatic one, Double-D took the first shot: "Yes, um, we've actually come in regards to, um, your, uh, proposal as it were, to, um, accompany you in your exploits-"

"I'm in," Eddy interrupted. "I'm bored and I wanna do something new. Ya get two outta the three of us."

And as they heard these words fall out of the boys' mouths, the Merry Men felt a strange mixture of emotions altogether at once; they were elated but disappointed, excited but afraid, surprised that the kids actually gave them an answer, but more than anything, they were confused. Very, very confused.

"Hrm, so… two out of three, you say?" asked Robin.

"Well… hey, shit, we'll take it!" Little John said with a voice that sounded cheerful but a face that still just looked confused.

"Y-yes," Double-D stammered, "b-b-but I-I must clarify, I-"

"I must say, though, I'm surprised the big bloke didn't want to tag along, he seemed dead-set on having an adventure!"

"Yeah, that kid was doin' backflips at the idea of doing some comic-book action-hero type a' shit. What, did his parents find out and ground him or somethin'?"

"N-n-now you see, um, sirs, i-it appears we may have, uh, had a misunderstanding-"

"Aw, no, Ed's in, too," Eddy clarified boredly. "Double-D just wanted to tell you in person that he's pussing out."

Double-D shot Eddy a dirty look before turning back to Robin and Johnny and nodded sheepishly with a nervous grin. And to that, the Men looked dumbfounded all over again.

"Oh, er… I- well- erm- I-I'm glad that you decided to tell us in person, Eddward," said Robin. Seems that this was the least you could have done, considering your friends both seem to be more courageous than you, and yet I can't help but wonder whether you might still be the wisest one of the three of you considering our terrible luck recently...

"I mean, uh, yeah, that-that makes more sense…" Little John mumbled. "-N-no-not to say that, uh, like, oh, we think you're not brave enough or anything, nonononono, but, uh… it makes more sense that if it was just two a' the three a ya's that the bear kid'd be one of 'em, since he's got the whole, um… yearning for adventure, I guess…" Although we absolutely DO think you're not brave enough, kid, but luckily for you, we've been having second thoughts about roping a bunch of kids into this anyway.

"But if we may ask…" Robin wondered aloud, "...what made you decide against it, young man?"

"Oh! Well, uh…" Double-D was less nervous after seeing their rather calm responses, but his nerves wouldn't simply go away at a moment's notice. "T-to be completely frank, gentlemen… I-I don't know if I completely agree with the, um… ethics of your mission."

"Hm, and what would you mean by-?"

"Okay, fuck it!" Little John groaned before he started sliding his back down against the wall. "If this is gonna take a while, I'm sittin' down! My back's killin' me. Ow ow ow ow owww..." He soon found himself in a seated position, promptly to be reminded that the thickness of his own posterior was such that he was nearly the same height sitting on his keister as he was standing. "Aw, hell…" he muttered as he rubbed the back of his head which was still being restrained by the ceiling.

"Right," Robin observed britishly before turning back to Double-D. "So what qualms do you still have with us?"

"'Still'? Um…" Double-D muttered. Elsewhere, Eddy tried to entertain himself by looking at interesting shapes in the cavern wall.

"Yes, we've gone out of our way to exhaustively explain our philosophy and we've demonstrated for you that we operate under a very specific moral code and the only troublemaking we do is for the greater good. What more do we have to do to prove to you that we're not evil men?"

Eddy looked back at the scene unfolding. Mister Endlessly-Charming was actually losing his temper, and at brown-noser Double-D of all people. Shit, this was getting interesting.

"Yeah, like, for Christ's sakes, kid," added Little John, "if it was a matter of… if you were just afraid… that would be totally fair. Absolutely valid considering the wild shit we do. But after bending over backwards to show you that morality ain't just black and white… Jesus, are you just that brainwashed? That you can't even conceive of a situation when the law is wrong and breaking the rules is the moral thing to do!?"

"Need we pull the old card of 'in-Nazi-Germany-the-law-said-that-prosecuting-Jews-was-good'?" asked Robin, more visibly annoyed than these two boys had ever seen him. "It's a tired old line, but if that's what we need to say to get our point across-"

"Like, shit, kid, did your parents never let you watch Adam Bell as a kid?"

The big grumpy redneck bear being angry was unwelcome if not somewhat unsurprising, but what was really getting to Double-D was watching the gentlemanly Englishman lose his patience with him. Double-D's entire life was structured around aiming to never ever have authority figures be cross with him like this, and now his anxiety was higher than it had been on the walk over. But then Little John evoked those goddamn cartoon humans who vexed him so and the extrajudicial justice they championed, and Double-D realized that he needed to be strong if he was going to defend the name of law and order.

"No!"

Robin and Johnny once again seemed surprised by the wolf's outburst.

"Um… wh-what I mean is… while I am not the most comfortable with the, uh… liberties taken with interpreting where the line between moral and immoral is, I can - and do - see your side of the argument. Rather, um… my fear lies more in… in the-this worry that… perhaps acclimating yourselves to the idea that because you are good men, you can do no wrong, um… per-perhaps if you were ever in, uh, in a particularly negative situation, that you may be, um, all too comfortable making what should be a tough decision, and, um, to be straightforward, perhaps you may even make the immoral choice, blinded by your own self-righteousness-"

"Kid, what in the fuck are you talkin' about?" asked Little John.

"Likewise, I didn't gather much of that," said Robin. "From what I thought I heard, you think we're self-righteous in our morality?"

"Um- sort of! B-bu-but not for, uh, not to say this is a character flaw unique to you! It-it's a, um, it's a, so-something that can happen to the best of us if we're not careful! Becoming all too comfortable with believing we're the good guys! Um… shall I give an example?"

"Please," said Robin.

"So… you are sworn not to kill. Correct?"

"That is correct," said Robin. "Granted, not sworn to any authority higher than one another, but that's still one authority whose trust we don't wish to jeopardize."

"And there's a big-ass asterisk on that that says that if we gotta drop some poor son of a bitch to save ourselves or each other, or especially an innocent bystander - to save an innocent bystander, fuck, y'know what I mean - then we'll cross that bridge when we come to it," explained Little John. "But yeah, we don't operate with any intent to kill, or even any intent to harm if we don't have to, because then we-"

"-Because then you'd look like the bad guys," Double-D finished for them. "I-in the eyes of the general public who are the same people you seek to serve."

Little John and Robin glanced at each other, both understanding that this kid understood them more than they were giving him credit for.

"That's right," said Johnny.

"But… I-I must thank you, Mr. Little, as that is a perfect example. You say that you would never choose to kill unless you were in a position where you were obligated to do so in order to save those you care for, whether it be one another or the denizens of this city," said Double-D, feeling a bit more confident in his talking points as he got the impression that the adults were starting to hear him out now. "In such a position… I would not fault you for choosing to end someone else's life if it was clearly your only option, but - oh, how shall I say this? - I would much rather never be in such a moral dilemma in the first place."

He paused and examined the Merry Men's expressions. They certainly seemed like they thought he was making a damn good point.

"I understand that this is an extraneous circumstance," he continued, "which you've managed to avoid for seven years and in which you do not anticipate to find yourselves in the near future. But I must say… for a situation like that, or a similar situation… whether it be myself who's tasked with making such a tough decision, or simply being an accomplice to someone else making such a decision… if I never find myself in such a predicament, it will be too soon. I cannot argue, sirs, that in your daily lives you do more good than harm, but… you say it would be more honorable for me to simply admit fear rather than moral objection? Well, I'm afraid that I'd wind up having to do something I could never live down." And also I believe in following the darned law, you scoundrels!

Double-D noticed Eddy staring at him, completely enthralled by his statement.

"Jeez, Double-D, I never thought I'd hear you give an entire speech about murdering people in cold blood," quipped the little fox.

"...Hm," Little John hummed, "that's… that's a pretty well-thought-out, uh… argument."

"I concur," said Robin. "You really are afraid of having to make a tough decision, is ya?"

"Oh, I, uh… I know that making tough decisions is a part of life, something we all must do from time to time," Double-D replied, "but a scenario that intense…"

"That's not an everyday tough decision," said Johnny.

"Precisely! Thank you, Mr. Little. Now… I will admit, I also wondered how you two would handle… less-dramatic but still-pretty-negative situations such as… oh, I feel so unclean simply talking about this… let's say you discover evidence of… of a child being abused - and yes, gentlemen, I do mean that kind of abuse. Or a murder plot, or something excessively evil of that variety. What would the two of you do then? Would you leave an anonymous tip to the police? Or would you take matters into your own hands? Surely two men like you wouldn't stand back and simply do nothing."

"Hm…" Now Robin was humming quips of curiosity, doing so with a weird smirk growing on his face. "Y'know, lad, this isn't the first time we've thought about such things. In fact, early in our adventures, I had a very haunting dream that never completely left me, wherein my girlfriend was engaging in our activities with Johnny and I, only for her to independently discover a ship in the harbor full of women being trafficked, whereupon she went ahead and absolutely wasted the men behind the operation. Then Johnny and I find her after the deed's been done and she doesn't know what to do with herself… of course, then I woke up at the most interesting part, but the fact remains that that dream never really left my conscious mind and Johnny and I've used it as a basis to discuss what we would do in such situations, eh, Johnny?"

"...Right." Johnny wasn't super thrilled that the talk about dreams had reminded him of the one he'd had in the hospital room a few nights back, but he knew Robin had no way of knowing what he'd triggered. "Well, look, yeah, what Rob said, these questions've crossed our minds before. But you know what? Never been an issue. Never encountered anything more insidious than just… people going out of their way to keep poor people poor, and even then it's more hinted at than, like… glaringly obvious evidence of a conspiracy against blue-collar people spelled out on someone's coffee table."

"Honestly, lads," said Robin, "we… we really don't go seeking that kind of trouble. Not our forté, if you will. And as Johnny said, such acts of evil are rarely out in the open."

"And you know what? Sure, there's probably a philosophical argument to be made that we're being… I dunno, irresponsible or something for not going digging for clues just in case there is something evil hiding under the surface - but shit, like you said, kid, we just wouldn't know how to handle that. Like… the example you gave with children being abused. When we do housecalls, if someone's got a laptop that's quick to swipe and easy to carry, sure, we'll take it, and then we'll either pawn if off and pay the money forward or give it to someone we know who needs a computer. Should we be combing through them on the off chance there's something indecent in there that needs to be dealt with? ...Or at least we hope it's an off chance. But for what it's worth, we've never had someone who got a laptop from us tell us 'hey, there's some disturbing stuff on this thing.' And as for big ol' table computers that we'd never be able to move, should we be sticking around in those houses longer just to check through their files? I mean, think of it this way, kids: if those extra minutes get us busted, do you think we wanna tell the judge 'Your Honor, we were going through his computer specifically looking for graphic images of chil-'"

"I-!" Double-D yelped, getting everyone else's attention. "I, uh… I see your point, Mr. Little. Pardon my outburst, but I now regret using such a… such an extreme example to start with, as all of that talk of that subject is making me… rather uncomfortable." Of course, it was also uncomfortable for Double-D to hear his parents blindly assume that his uncle had done something similar to him, an accusation which he was still thinking about on and off and which had inspired him to use that as his go-to example for a profoundly sticky ethical situation for the Merry Men, but he would have preferred to be… less uncomfortable, if at all possible.

"Plus, not to mention, lads," added Robin, "remember that we've been living in the woods for the last seven years; navigating modern technology is far from our strong suit."

"Yeah, in case the medieval weaponry didn't tip ya off," quipped Little John.

"But yes, we've never walked into a wealthy person's home and seen a computer with extreme images idling on the screen, nor have we seen a journal laid open on a desk detailing someone's desire to kill someone, nor have we seen a copy of The Anarchist Cookbook on a shelf with a bunch of sticky notes jutting out and intricate notes about building a bomb inside, nor have we so much as overheard a conversation about someone casually confessing to any number of heinous acts. If we ever did encounter something so glaringly obvious, we'd surely address it, but when we're looting a home, we want to be in and out as quickly as possible. No time for snooping around if we don't have to."

"And as for not doing housecalls?" asked Little John, looking puzzled as he tried to explain this. "Yeah, uh… like, what, if we were panhandling and someone mentioned offhandedly that they beat their wife with a fucking tire iron, would we intervene? Damn straight we would, but… we just haven't run into something like that. Most people aren't so cartoonishly stupid that they'd go around telling strangers about the horrible shit they do, closest we get is that people just kinda hint that they're even more of an asshole than we think at first, like speaking with disdain about innocent people who aren't even fucking relevant to the conversation-"

"-but that's essentially what qualifies them for the old oo-de-lally treatment in the first place, so we just screw them over twice as hard," Robin finished for his friend.

Oddly enough, Double-D found his anxiety on the backburner; his conscious mind was focusing on the things these men were saying. They had effectively just dodged his question by disqualifying it as irrelevant, but they did so expertly and with a sense that they'd fight for their right to dodge his questions again. If he was going to defeat these evil men and their wicked philosophy, he was going to have to try harder. He needed to present them with a moral quandary that would absolutely stump them.

"A-and again, should we be digging deeper to look for these things?" asked Little John. "I mean, maybe, but we got ourselves in enough trouble as it is… wait, is that what this is about? You think we should be looking into these people's lives more? For signs of shit like this?"

"N-no, sir, that's not what I'm saying at all!" the wolf insisted. "If I may present another example-"

"Jesus Christ, Double-D, hurry up, we wanna see some action!" Eddy moaned.

Double-D simply ignored him. "Regarding the idea of encountering an act of evil while simply making your rounds about town. You often deliver gifts of charity to the most blighted parts of town, correct? Therefore it would not be out of the realm of possibility that you could, oh, theoretically, bear witness to an act of violence prevalent in economically-depressed areas of inner cities. Perhaps you were eyewitnesses to a gang shooting-!"

"Nope. We haven't been," said Little John, shaking his head. "We haven't seen such a thing so far, and while that kind of stuff totally does happen, it's not such a… prevalent thing that we'd've been guaranteed to see it by now."

"Indeed," said Robin. "Once in a blue moon we'll overhear gunshots in the distance, but we've never witnessed one person murder another. And thank God for that. We tell ourselves that the best thing we can do for such situations is to alleviate the poverty in those areas so desperate people wouldn't feel the need to turn to violence so easily."

"And in the parts of town where that stuff happens the most… we don't mess around with those places very often," Little John said, looking bummed out. "People in that neck of the woods don't like us very much."

"Well-" Robin said as he searched for the words he wanted. "...I wouldn't say they all don't like us. Some of them adore us, some of them loathe us, and many of them I'm sure don't even think of us or know we exist-"

"Wait, hold up," said Eddy. "...You? You two Mister-Heroic-types are gonna let a few people scare you out of a neighborhood? They tell you not to come back and you just… don't?"

Robin and Johnny could see that Eddy was suddenly a lot less impressed by them, and while they weren't sure anymore that they still wanted his accompaniment, they certainly didn't want to lose his admiration.

"Oh, uh…" Robin stumbled for an answer. "We still visit from time to time. Just not as often. I'd say proportional to the amount of locals who want us there compared to… friendlier locales."

"So yeah, in conclusion, we've never seen someone do something so ridiculously fucked up that it warrants us getting the cops involved or killing a dude on the spot," said Little John, grumpy again. "The end."

"Yes, I understand that," said Double-D, "but… what if you did? How would you handle-?"

"We'd cross that bridge when we come to it." To make it unambiguously clear that he was done having this conversation, he turned his head as well as pointed at Eddy. "By the way, if the ol' mauler wanted to come with us too, why isn't he here now to tell us so?"

"Aw, his parents dragged him off to a doctor," said Eddy nonchalantly.

"A- a doctor!?" said Robin, sounding more surprised than he'd have liked.

"What, is he… sick or something?" asked Little John.

"Naw, they just finally decided to look into why the dumb dipshit's such a dumb dipshit," said Eddy, still very dismissive of his friend's situation. "So! We good to start? I ain't tryna be a whiner, boys, but I'm going stir-crazy in this campy little town."

This was moving entirely too fast for Robin and Johnny, who had just come to terms with the idea that it would probably be better for everyone if the boys just ignored their invitation.

"Er… w-wouldn't you, er, rather wait for your friend to be available, Eddy?"

"Well I ain't gonna be free tomorrow, I gotta hang out at home all day for Father's Day."

"Shit, that's right, Father's Day is this weekend, isn't it!?" exclaimed Little John. "That's something we're gonna hafta to work around with a buncha people being home; I'm losin' track a' all the days… But wait, ain't tomorrow only Saturday?"

"Yeah, but my dad works Sunday, no big deal. And Ed's gonna be stuck at home on Sunday with his family, so if we wait for both of us to be free, we're never gonna get anywhere!"

And somewhere in there was the point where, as if telepathically, Robin and Johnny both realized this was their opportunity for an out.

"...Rob, let's chit-chat outside for a sec, eh?" Little John said as he carefully got to his feet, watching his vertical clearance.

"I was just about to say! Lads, excuse us for a moment, Johnny and I need a moment alone to deliberate," Robin said as he and Little John made their way out, neither waiting for a reply.

"Hey, hey! We still haven't heard about how ya fucked up your arm!" Eddy hollered at the empty space filled by the sound of the falling water.

"Well Eddy, perhaps he injured himself doing one of the many perilous things they do every day," said Double-D, who was hoping against hope that the reason for the Merry Men stepping out was that between his argument against their lifestyle and the fact that the backup they desperately needed was not going to be available when they needed them, they may have felt the need to discuss dissolving their hopeless operation on the spot. "Perhaps this should be a warning to you, Eddy: perhaps you shouldn't want to join their silly little thieves' guild out of a sense of caution that you may well experience severe and-or permanent injury!" If there still is a silly little thieves' guild to join…

But Eddy was in no mood to be converted. "This is all your fault! You scared them off because ya wouldn't stop talking about child molesters for some reason!" he exclaimed with a shove. "Why are ya talkin' so much about child molesters and pedophiles lately, anyway? You got sumpthin' ya need to say, weirdo?"

As you and I know, Dear Reader, Double-D did have a reason for why the topic was on his mind so much in the prior days, a very, very good reason that he really, really didn't want to talk about.

A good distance away, in a spot inside the tree line where they could see the entrance to the cave under the waterfall but hopefully someone there couldn't see them, Robin and Little John pulled over to engage in even more plot-relevant talking.

"Okay-" Little John began without really knowing where he was going with his sentence. "So… after the shit luck we've been having these last few days - which honestly makes the last couple years look bad in retrospect - and especially after damn-near watching you get Texas-chainsaw-massacred the other day, I already wasn't totally comfy anymore with bringing a bunch of kids into the fold, not these kids, not any others. But now the cuckoo kid's being taken to a mental health professional for, what, if I heard that right, the first time ever? Like… if that kid turns out to be actually, literallydisabled, I guess is the word… I'm definitely not gonna feel okay dragging him into all this. Nuh-uh. I won't know how to be responsible for whatever happens to him."

"And I agree, Johnny, but I must say, although the lad was… most certainly odd, I would never have pegged him to be that kind of, er… handicapped-"

"And me neither, and I really don't think he is, God knows back in Tennessee none of the kids ever let the special-ed kids hang out with them and yet here Ed has friends, but even if he's not- even if he doesn't have a textbook learning disability, even if it's just… shit, I dunno, just a really, really nasty case of ADHD, or something like that, I'm not gonna wanna- I-I mean, I'm sure he'd like to be treated like he's normal, and maybe in some ways that's the right answer, but we ain't psychologists, or psychiatrists, or whatever the fuck, and we aren't gonna know how to help him. And I don't wanna be responsible if some shit happens to him, even more-so than I don't wanna be responsible if something happens to the other kids."

"And speaking of the other kids, I know some mental-health experts would likely crucify me for this, but if the old stereotype is that retarded or autistic children act childishly… I'd actually say old Ed's not even the most childish one of the bunch. I'd say it were that wolf boy. Aren't teenagers meant to be rebellious? Aren't they meant to question authority? Or is that merely another stereotype I've been led to believe?"

"And what's that kid's obsession with child molesters, anyway? Goddamn."

"Isn't a lad his age too old to think that the law is some sort of… infallible force for good? Shouldn't he know better?"

"..."

"I ask you, Johnny."

"Shit, sorry Rob, now I'm thinking about whether there mighta been some reason he was pushing us so much to crack down on pedophiles."

"And I wondered the same thing, Johnny, but right now I'm focusing on how disappointed I am that such a… a lad who's clearly very intelligent still has an enormous hole in his head where his street smarts are meant to be."

"...Fuck, do you think that was a cry for help?"

"...Well, now I do, Johnny."

"Goddammit."

"And just like that, now I feel foolish for not realizing it earlier."

"Me, too, man. But- hey, I still have the kid's address memorized. Should we… pay him a visit later? Talk it out? See what we can do?"

"What's his address?"

"201 Rethink Avenue. Which I still think is a stupid name for a street."

"It sounded more like he'd rather not discuss it and more like he'd rather we just extinguish his problem."

"Maybe we could also do that. I dunno, are his parents gonna be home? Is it them, or someone else? We don't know. And- Jesus fuck, I feel so… so-"

"-Unequipped? …To handle this situation?"

"...Yeah, that sounds like a good word, yeah."

"Well as much as I would like to solve his problem immediately, we might have to have a think on it first. Perhaps while we're fulfilling a different obligation first."

"'Obligation'? What obligation? You mean our regular work?"

"No, Johnny. The crass one's right about one thing: we'd best visit Hermosa Park more often."

"Uh- yeah, but Jesus, I-"

"It'll be a bit awkward, yes, but it shouldn't be dangerous. Again, that little lad has no class about him, perhaps a filthier mouth than you have, and it seems like he only wants to join us because he doesn't know what he wants in life, but… he wants to join us all the same, doesn't he?"

"...Man, that little fux fock has issues- I-I mean, wait, that little fox fuck-"

"Don't worry, Johnny, I understood you the first time."

"Well, there's that filthy mouth you were talkin' about… You know what else is on my mind?"

"Tell me."

"Now… maybe this is just the former chronic loner in me talking, but… I-I'm not sure I'm comfortable breaking up a group of friends like that."

"And I was kind of thinking the same thing, but… perhaps this won't entirely dissolve their friendship? I mean, we're not dragging these lads to live with us full-time away from one another, they'll still see one another when we're not around-"

"But I honestly don't think these kids have many other friends besides each other. Now, as much as that freakin' wolf kid is a- now, I don't say this lightly, because God knows I was like him for the longest time, but holy hell, that kid is a coward-"

"Agreed."

"-and as much as he is that, I still don't wish losing his only friends upon him. And maybe this- maybe they shouldn't- hmm… maybe… maybe we shouldn't be going along with their weird three-way codependency, maybe we should be forcing them to make other friends, but… shit, I'm sure a bunch of people would say the same about you and me."

"To borrow a term from your filthy dictionary, Johnny: fuck 'em. Fuck those miserable people."

"Darn tootin'. And now I'm thinking, hell, maybe we oughta… help the kid stop being so much of a coward… but-"

"-But he's got to want to."

"Exactly. Took the words right out of my mouth."

"And I agree, it would be great to help the lad come out of his shell, I certainly see potential with that big brain of his, but as I said, he'll need to want to."

"...This would be so much easier if we could get adults to join us."

"But those same adults have too much to lose to ever agree to leave that all behind and join us."

"And the only people stupid enough to want to join us and actually do it…"

"...Are kids."

"I was gonna say rebels-without-a-causes teenagers, but yeah. Kids. Same difference."

"I hope you know that I'm immensely grateful and acutely aware of just how fortunate I was to run into someone like you who would listen to my crazy idea and actually go with it. And at just the right time, too. Because clearly I'm never going to run into anyone like that ever again."

"Hm. Well… thanks for having me."

"The pleasure is mine, Johnny."

"Oh, you. You and your endless class…"

"Don't be so jealous of it, Little John, I merely learnt in a classroom."

"Heh. Class-room."

"Oh! Ah, yes, good catch, old boy!"

"...Goddammit, I'm not ready to make a decision."

"But we must make a move."

"Oh, we're about to make a move alright."

"And I have the utmost cccertainty that it will sssurely be a sssuccess, sssire," said the weasel to the lion.

"Yes, yes," the mayor murmured boastfully out of the side of his snout, sending his words vaguely in his assistant's direction. "And I shall give credit where credit is due, I do thank you for encouraging me to continue to make such moves and not to rest on my laurels, not to let this damned stalemate linger any longer- er, longer any linger- no, blast it, I had it right the first time!"

"Please, mayor, don't alarm yourself," implored the weasel, sitting on the floor and doing clerical work. "Think of it thisss way, milord: the people will have more faith in a leader who can laugh at himself!"

"Ah, yes, yes, perhaps you're correct, Charles," said the mayor as he semi-reclined on an old-fashioned two-way lounge chair; the ankle he had sprained after slipping in Hess's vomit had been better for a few days, almost as if the universe had forgotten about it, but Prince John had recently reaggravated it and now it hurt just as bad as it did on the day it happened. "And I'd best practice, must I not? For soon the day shall come that the people of this city shall… choose not to mock me, for they shall adore me so."

Charles simply nodded with a soft smile. He had a thrift-store pocket watch and a library book about hypnosis ready to go back in his quarters at the mayoral residence, sitting right next to his daily journal, but he had no idea when he'd have time to actually practice such a skill without sacrificing sleep - or sacrificing work, which would defeat the entire purpose of this endeavor. But of course now the man himself had to gum up the works by suddenly going on and on about how grateful he was for his assistant's useful input, making Hiss entertain the thought: did he even need to resort to such extreme tactics to puppet the prince, or did he already harness more of the power of persuasion than he thought?

"But yes, I must say, this is all coming along quite nicely," the mayor mused. "All the pieces are moving into place: all the pawns are in position; all the rooks and the knights and the bishops are in their strategic locations, standing at attention; and now, one can say, the queen is being sent out to draw attention and sacrifice herself for her king."

"A brilliant metaphor, sssire!"

"And I vow to be more tasteful with how I use her as bait this time! I still recall when you talked me out of using her as a prize to be won at the archery contest those years ago, how dreadfully chauvinistic that would have seemed! I still remember you saying, 'Sire, it's 2001, not 1002,' and I still think that was astoundingly clever, Hiss."

"I thank you, sssire." There the mayor went again suggesting that he was more open to the weasel's suggestions than he had always let on, all the while reminding him about the sheer lack of intelligence, tact, or wisdom that made him the perfect candidate to be used as a vicarious vessel of power.

It all seemed like a sign: it was time to push his luck. Okay, first, an underhand softball:

"Sssire," he continued, "shall we keep pursssuing the DNA from that pig mask found near where the bobcat boy was dissscovered?"

"Ah, yes, but we needn't make haste with it," said the lion as he sipped some more red wine. "We have names and faces for the bandits, which I know and you know are surely accurate, and the public will not be thinking that we have insufficient evidence - they don't do a lot of thinking at all, now do they?"

Alright, alright, not quite the answer he was expecting, but he could salvage it. "Er- I agree, sssire, but perhaps a bit more proof would solidify the public's trust?"

"Ah, if the evidence comes, it comes. I would demand those lowlives in the forensics department get their arses in gear and stop consuming liquid lunches, but oh, let them make merry! These are happy days, Charles! Our victory over those rascals shall come soon!"

Oh, damn the mayor for getting his assistant's hope up that there might be some substance to his praise of Hiss's suggestions. And damn him for so emboldening his assistant that he dared to push the envelope further against his better judgment.

"Actually, sssire… if I may venture to sssay ssso… I should think that what would truly, truuuly gain the public's trust if if you were to freely admit your relation to the sssussspect-"

The weasel found himself interrupted by a splash of liquid to the face, his airways obstructed with moisture and his eyes stinging with sugary alcohol.

"Charles, have you gone absolutely mad!?" the lion demanded. "Admit that I have a relation to the bandit!? By way of my intern!? The people of this city are idiots, Hiss, but they're not imbeciles! Surely some of them will remember her as my intern from all those years ago, and they'll rebuke me for not confessing my relation to the suspect then! Not to mention the groveling nitwits who'd whine about 'nepotism' for giving a position open to the public to a niece who hadn't even applied for the role! Gain their trust by telling them I'd withheld the truth from them before!? Balderdash!"

But his assistant was busy trying to rub his anguished eyes with the heel of his foot, only to succeed in communicating dirt from the floor and ink from the book into his eye to join the party of irritants.

"Hrmph. Get me another glass of wine when you're done writhing like a spastic! And be grateful that I'm injured so I can't come over there and strangle you!"

And as Charles rubbed his eyes against the coarse carpeting in a vain attempt to find relief, his resolve was further strengthened to one day run this daft bastard into the ground. It wasn't even to say that he thought that he would succeed in wresting power from him; in his mind, an outcome where he wound up as the sole leader of this city without fear of going to jail and with the possibility of going on to gain further power on a larger scale was a possibility he absolutely thought was possible but would hardly call it probable. At this point, he just wanted a taste of power.

His boss was infamously insecure about not being a fraction of the man his own brother was, but at least he did eventually come to occupy the same position that had made his brother somebody. Charles could not see such a future for himself. There was no place in this world for someone like him to have power; mammals simply couldn't get over their animalistic inkling that someone lacking their upper limbs could ever harbor any semblance of strong leadership. There had never been a mayor of a major city who had been a double above-the-joint amputee, and if there was ever going to be one, it likely wouldn't be someone who had been dragged across the ocean to a strange land by his parents as a lad and educated in an aristocratic British school in New York City only to be gradually more and more disowned by said family starting after the point where he fell onto the subway tracks and barely survived an encounter with the electrified third rail but at the cost of his arms up to nearly the shoulder (not to mention doing irreparable damage to his teeth when he landed mouth-first on a non-electrified rail, giving him a permanent lisp) which made him look horrifically ugly in the eyes of his deeply image-conscious family who were abstractly proud that he had overcome his newfound physical challenges and found a way to operate independently despite said challenges but who nevertheless thought he simply didn't look presentable for the places in society they wished to occupy and eventually cut him off entirely shortly after he became an adult; this wasn't fantasy, this was the real world, and in the real world you need to be miraculously well-adjusted to be anything close to what would be considered a hero. Hiss had been spit upon by the world too many times to ever achieve such greatness legitimately, and he knew it; therefore he had to achieve it illegitimately.

Hess knew full well that raising hell under Prince John was likely going to see the both of them go down together, and he was fine with that; he was here for a good time, not a long time, and he was already living on borrowed time. He just wanted to exert some power, and what better way to do that than to instigate increasingly absurd scenarios wherein more power needs to be exerted? But he still needed to practice using his new tools.

"...Mayor, may I have Saturday off?"

"...Saturday?" It worried Mayor Norman that his assistant wasn't hissing seductively even though they were still perfectly alone.

"Yes, Mayor. I do apologize for the short notice, but I just remembered some things I must attend to sooner than later, and Saturday would be my best opportunity to complete them!"

"What sorts of things?"

"...Personal things, Mayor. Private things. I apologize, but I cannot tell you more than that."

"But then what am I supposed to do all of Saturday without you?"

"Well, what do you usually do on Saturdays? Just do that, but without me, simple as that. It's not fucking rocket science," said the squirrel, turning his head to speak to the wolf while keeping his eyes straight ahead toward the road. "...Unless in my absence you decide to take up rocket science, in which case… aw, hell, no you won't."

"Well with an attitude like that, I'd be glad to have a day aways from ya!" the sheriff grumbled from the passenger seat.

"Alright, fine, it's settled. Pleasure doing business with ya," the deputy said flatly and he turned his concentration back to the road.

The two sat in silence for about ten seconds before Ward realized that his partner genuinely had no desire to continue the conversation any further. This worried him, so he rekindled it himself.

"But what I was thinkin' was… what's the point a' havin' a deputy if he ain't gonna be there to back me up?"

"Oh, suck my ass, dick-brain, we both know that you don't think I'd be useful backup if you were ever in trouble. At least not physically. Maybe if you do something stupid like, say, run your mouth off and carelessly drop T-bombs in front of actual jungle cats, then maybe I could use the intelligence that I have that you so desperately lack to bail your ass out, but even then there's plenty of people who would say that someone as stupid and careless and ignorant as you doesn't deserve backup. We both know you want me standing on your shoulder like a fuckin' decoration. A status symbol that you're the head honcho complete with a literally-little sidekick. You get to be Batman and I get to be Adam the Boy Wonder. You can see it from space, just like your gut. Suck my dick, Ward. No, actually? Suck my tail and pretend it's a dick, a really furry dick, probably one that's bigger than yours is and still firmer than yours is capable of getting."

Nutsy delivered this entire diatribe without ever once turning his head or taking his eyes off the road, and his boss needed a minute to take in all of that.

"...Jeez, Nutsy, you really didn't hafta say all that."

"Ward, it's either I take my frustrations with my life out on you, my mom, or the public I serve; choosing either of the last two would be frowned upon by our society and I mostly agree. Not taking my frustrations out on anyone isn't an option, and since many of my frustrations are birthed by you and your miraculously eternal incompetence at life, directing them at you just seems fair. I think it says somewhere in the Bible that you saying or doing something fully coherent is one of the signs of the apocalypse; Revelation, Chapter Sixty-Nine, Verse Negative-Two."

There was silence again for a few moments as the sheriff processed his deputy's vitriol.

"...But ya know what, Nutsy? I don't think ya'd be botherin' ta' say half this stuff if ya really didn't like me! You just wouldn't say nothin' at all!"

"No, if I say nothing at all to you, that means I find you uninteresting but not by any means intolerable. You I find intolerable."

"Aw, I know ya have fun makin' fun a me-!"

"Ward, are you lonely or something?"

"...Huh?"

"Are you lonely or something?" Nutzinger turned away from the road ahead for the first time in about a minute to sneak a disgusted glance at his boss. "Because I'll freely admit it, I don't have any fuckin' friends right now. This job destroyed my social life and everyone we work with - including you - is an asshole. And I don't have any shame about it because I know it's not a character flaw, I'm just the victim of a bad situation; I don't treat other people like I do you and the other authority figures in this town who piss me off."

And the wolf didn't say a word.

"Tell ya what, Ward-o," said George, "I'll respect you a hell of a lot more - which still won't be much, but you know, ten percent is ten times as much as one percent - I'll like you a lot more if you just admit that I'm still your best friend."

"What? Aw, no you ain't!" the sheriff scoffed. "And it's a good thing, because you don't treat me good enough to be a good best friend!"

"And yet I'm still your best friend, probably because I'm your only friend. Bonus points if you admit that I'm both your best and only friend. Ya gotta say both words."

"Aw, pshaw! I've got better friends than you, Nutsy!"

But George didn't reply. He didn't even look like his mind had registered that Ward had said anything.

And this confused Sheriff Woodland to no end. He thought this conversation would be predictable: he tells Nutsy he's wrong, Nutsy quizzes him on who these mysterious other friends are, he gives Nutsy some generic names, Nutsy challenges their legitimacy, and so on and so on as hilarity ensues. But the squirrel didn't seem interested in participating in such hijinks.

"Uh… Nutsy? Ya hear me?"

"Yeah, I heard you. Ya said something that wasn't what I asked you to say."

"I… I do have other friends."

"Yeah, I don't believe you," George said flatly, still not looking at Ward. "If you're not gonna tell me the truth, I'm not gonna force it out of you. I don't care that much. If you want to be a pathetic liar, be a pathetic liar."

And this got the sheriff thinking.

"Hey, Georgie… am I your best friend?"

"By default, yes. Don't remind me. And don't get too comfortable with that arrangement because I plan to change it at my earliest convenience."

They drove in silence for a while before the wolf again broke the silence:

"Uh, Nutsy… where are we driving, exactly?"

"Hm? Man, I dunno. Around?"

"...Oh. Um… m'kay…"

"...Hey, listen. Ward. I don't want to go to this fucking meeting. I'm doing it just as an act of goodwill. I fully expect it to be awkward and stupid and- and I'm just expecting that there's gonna be people there who're completely fucking nuts. I'm seeing it now, my mom's friends all turn out to be 'let-met-talk-to-your-manager' types. A-and I'm already calling it, there's gonna be a Cathy with a C and a Kathy with a K both there and nobody's gonna be able to differentiate them verbally. This will happen; I can feel it in my bones."

"...Ya want me to come with ya, then?"

"Um… probably not a good idea. It's being held at a rabbit's house, and I'm pretty sure she lives in a rabbit-sized house. Does this mean that her little club isn't open to anybody over a certain size? Shit if I know, but yeah, I think you're off the hook based on sheer geometry."

The sheriff chuckled to himself. "Yeah, I've visited some bunny hutches a couple times before, they're no place for a six-eleven guy like me-"

"And that's another reason you shouldn't go, you'd weird everyone out with your creepy pathological obsession with your own size, what with you giving weirdly exact numbers nobody asked for that you're probably still exaggerating and the way that everyone and their senile gramma can tell that it's the only thing you have to be proud of."

"What can I say, Nutsy? It's good to be big. I'm just sorry you'll never know it yourself."

"I'm just saying, man, the only other people on Earth who're happy about your size are probably those guys at the bar in Zoar Park a few years back."

"...Bar in Zoar Park?"

As he pulled up to a red light, Nutzinger seemed surprised that his boss didn't remember the incident in question. "Y'know… the one we had to go to because we had a lead that there was a drug operation running out the back, and it just turned out to be one bartender selling weed and some coke?"

"...Huh?"

George thought this was warranted direct eye contact. "Dude… The Boy's Club."

Ward visibly shuddered and covered his face when it finally clicked. "Aw, jeez, Nutsy, don't remind me a' that!"

"Well, hey, man, you seem like you want everybody to be as impressed with your body as you are, so I decided to remind you of the time that other people were most clearly impressed by your body."

"No, Nutsy, seriously, cut it out. If sumpthin' like that never happens to me again, it'll be too soon," he said before trembling again.

The deputy winced as he pressed the gas. "Really? C'mon, dude, it wasn't that bad. Grow up."

"Aw, hush, Nutsy! Would you be comf'terble with a buncha guys comin' on ta' ya?"

"I mean, it might be weird in the moment, but I wouldn't let it haunt me for the rest of my life. Hell, some would probably argue that a well-adjusted person would be flattered by anybody having the hots for them."

"Aw, what kinda logic does that make!?"

"Well, fuck, dude, if it makes you feel better, it clearly wasn't all of them that had the hots for ya. First it was that one dude, also a wolf I think, who had the balls to start hitting on your redneck ass, then it became clear that you were uncomfortable with it because you were a hick who was genuinely phobic of gay people, so that emboldened all the other guys who were into big fat guys to join in just to fuck with you, then you were clearly really uncomfortable and then all the guys in there started coming on to ya just for shits and giggles. And I'd bet a buck that if they could see how irrationally disgusted you are just thinking about it years later, they'd probably be glad they did it."

"'Irrationally disgusted'? Nutsy, you grow up."

Nutzinger simply rolled his eyes. "Your retarded conservative attitudes disappoint me, but given the part of the country you're from, I can't say I'm surprised."

"Hey! Hey. I never said I hated them all! I don't understand their lifestyle, but it's their right to do what they please. And as an officer a' the law, I can tell ya offhand that the act of a man lying with a man as he would with a woman has been federally decriminalized for…" - he counted on his fingers - "...two whole years now!"

"Wow, look at you, you know the law, it's almost as if that's a basic duty of your job."

"Don't you accuse me of being a bigot, Nutsy. I don't care what they do with each other… as long as they don't do it around me."

"Cool, so I'll leave a memo on the desk in the sheriff's office letting you know when I believe that. Or if you can't read, I can-"

"Nutsy, why are ya so darn mean to me?"

That question provoked a confused side-glance from the driver. "Like I said, because you're an asshole and you deserve it. Y'know, that's a curious thing, it seems like most world cultures teach their children that a hallmark of maturity is to not tell yourself that it's okay to be mean to certain people because they deserve it, but… it seems like most people anyway are totally morally at peace with doing bad things to people they think deserve it. Like with these motherfuckers in the woods, I've been thinking about how fucking blatantly they're ripping off Adam Bell, and that got me thinking about how weird it was that Sidney made a kids' movie out of that with an unambiguous message of 'hey, kiddos, sometimes it's okay to break the rules and be mean to mean people, like those mean old barons in Adam Bell,' but then I think, shit, basically all Sidney movies have a villain that the good guys have to forcefully defeat in some capacity, and most kids' movies for that matter, and it gets me thinking, what the fuck kinda hypocracy are we teaching our kids? Like, if we wanna say it's okay to use your morals to make the call that it's okay to make an exception and be mean to a mean person, if you wanna tell them that sometimes it's okay to invoke a double standard and say 'it's okay when we do it because we're the good guys and they're the bad guys', fine, but for fuck's sake, have the balls to tell kids that to their faces instead of hinting at it in all of their media. And all without teaching them how to use proper judgment for when to make those calls. Society's no fucking use."

The passenger had tuned out about halfway through that paragraph. "...But why do ya feel the want to be so mean to me?"

"Again, because you're an asshole. You made me racist against fat people; I don't want to be racist against fat people, but then I met you and now I see morbidly obese people and I hear the sound of a toilet flushing in my head. That didn't used to happen. Like, species who're supposed to be fat are off the hook, I see bears and hippos and elephants and I don't think twice, but, say, a fat wolf? Fluuuuush."

"A toilet flushing? Why a toilet flushing?"

"Because you eat way too goddamn much so you poop way too goddamn much. So yeah, that's why I want to be mean to you, because I feel dirty being so prejudiced but I can say with a sound mind that I can draw a straight line to blame this mindset on you. Your shittiness is so strong that it rubbed off on me, it compelled me to be someone I'm not comfortable being. That's why I give you such a hard time."

"...Is that it?"

George kept looking straight ahead as he drove, staying silent for a moment. "...It probably helps that I thought I'd be happy as an adult. Then I stumbled ass-backwards into a job where I went to check out stiffs for a living because nobody else on the force could fit into these people's fucking houses, and then I got promoted again and again purely as an act of spite, them promoting me just to piss off the people who didn't get promoted, them knowing that I knew damn well that that's why they were doing it instead of actually thinking I was a good candidate for it and not caring about how I felt about that."

"...Ya know, in a weird way, I think I'm gonna miss ya working without ya tomorrow."

Nutzinger found himself wincing again, but this time it was more from confusion over how he ought to respond to that rather than a wince of disgust. Seriously? How could he feel so flattered and yet so uncomfortable by the same sentence?

"Well… hey, I'm sure you'll be fine without me."

"Aw, yeah, I know I will, I just think it'll be boring is all."

George found himself at another red light, drumming his fingers and claws on the tiny steering wheel to fill the dead air.

"An' really," Ward continued, "it's prolly for the best that you and I ain't always together. Like keepin' the president an' the VP sep'rate so someone can't assassinate them both."

"Yeah, uh… not gonna lie, being the victim of a political assassination isn't my biggest concern, but, uh… yeah you're right, if someone did wanna do that, we'd be making it easier for them by being together."

"And you know what? I agree. Go to that meeting."

"Uh… you actually agree now, or are you just saying that?"

"No, I agree. Because a lot of people in this town think we don't care about 'em, so let's show 'em we do."

"Right."

"A lot of people in this town don't like us, and the only way we win 'em back over is if we earn it."

"Exactly."

"And it would be great to have more people on our side to back us up…"

"...But you're not comfortable with it being a trio of teenagers consisting of a spineless worry-wart, a megalomaniac, and a lad who may well be clinically incapacitated," Robin finished Little John's sentence; he'd been letting his friend think out loud to help take his own mind off how badly he wanted to pop another one of the elephantine Tylenol chunks sitting in a Ziploc baggie deep in the bear's crotch pocket. "What are you thinking, Johnny?"

Little John stared into the empty space above the fox's head, so deep in thought about the dilemma at hand that he didn't even have time to be suspicious about Robin asking his opinion instead of just taking the wheel like he usually did. "I'm thinking the smartest move might be the toughest."

"So it's settled? You think the smartest move is to bring the two of them aboard?"

"No. At least not right now."

"...Oh. So… you're thinking the smart move is to send them on their way-"

"I didn't say that either, sweetheart."

"...Then what's such a tough move to make? You're confusing me here, Johnny."

Little John took a deep breath and sighed. "Wasting even more time."

"I'm simply stating, Eddy," said Double-D, "your secret is safe with me, I will not tell these gentlemen of your ulterior motives-"

"Then don't talk so fuckin' loudly about 'em, wouldja? They could be back any time now."

"Eddy, I'm not going to think you're a more mature fox simply because you've grown from craving money to craving admiration. You're still seeking to break laws and risk your own safety for your own greed and gain. Does that sound like a mature decision to you?"

"Where the hell didja get the impression that I'm doing this to get you to think more highly of me?"

"But are we not friends, Eddy? What's the point of being friends if you don't even remotely care when your decisions alarm me? Going through life being paranoid of what others think surely is neither helpful nor healthy, but there are select people in our lives whose opinions we are supposed to care about, and friends are meant to be on such an exclusive list!"

Eddy turned to the wolf and raised a vexed eyebrow. "Well, Sock-Head, if you can't get it through your head that this is my life and I'm doing this for my own self-image, I won't have any issue with crossing you off that list."

Eddy turned away from Double-D again and stared annoyedly at the opposite wall again. Upon not hearing Double-D say anything for a while, he added: "And we've been over this, for fuck's sakes, who cares why I'm doing it if I'm doing it!? How ya gonna make the world a better place reading a fucking physics textbook alone in your bedroom, Einstein-?"

In his expertly insolent way, Eddy had been specifically waiting until the word "Einstein" to face Double-D again for maximum dramatic effect. But upon seeing the wolf again, he saw that the poor creature looked devastated. Eddy may have felt bad about what he'd said and Double-D may have been reduced to tears if either of them had had the time to dwell on it, but they never had the opportunity.

"Jesus, that water is cold!" a voice boomed, and in walked the injured fox and the freshly-soaked bear. Apparently they'd been gone for so long that the boys subconsciously thought they weren't coming back, because the Merry Men would never have said that Eddy nor Double-D had the faces of two boys who were in the middle of questioning their friendship, they just had the viscerally surprised looks of… well, not unlike how Robin had looked when they walked in on him earlier that day.

"Uh- apologies, lads, hope we weren't interrupting a good conversation or anything," said Robin.

"Uh, no, no, just, uh… shootin' the shit, y'know," said Eddy. Double-D didn't look like he was in any rush to add to the conversation.

"Cool!" exclaimed Little John, his upper body again against the ceiling; he didn't bother sitting down because he didn't expect this to take long. "But yeah, good news! We've made our decision!"

"D-decision?" asked Eddy. "So… do you want me and Ed to join ya or not?"

"You know what, lads?" asked Robin. "We put you on the spot the first time. Take some more time to think about it. It's not a problem."

"T-take our time!? We already took a whole week!"

"Yeah, but you probably spent that whole week scrambling, trying to make a big decision before you were ready," said Little John. "I could tell by the handwriting on the note you tied to the rock, that was clearly the hurried scribble of someone who was in a rush, and we feel bad for rushin' ya. So we're tryin' to make up for that."

"Y-you don't need to make up for anything! We're ready! A-at least me and Ed are!"

"But that's just the thing!" said Robin. "We've survived solely because of a close fraternity that few others get to enjoy; we'd hate to tear you boys apart over us."

"So maybe you think you're ready to join us, kid," said Little John, "but maybe you haven't thought about whether you're ready to… risk a rift between ya's."

The boys certainly heard that one. Double-D remained wordless, shifting his wide-eyed stare from person to person, while Eddy looked humbled by that statement. Of course, the adults had no clue what kind of a nerve they'd struck and they simply thought these were looks of hmm, that's a good point, so they kept going.

"So we'd love to have you come along with us, truly we would," said Robin, "but in the interest of fairness, if our friend Eddward here can manage to come up with an argument to dissuade you and your bear friend, we'll give him some time to do so."

"Or on the flip side, Wolfie, now you've got time to think about it if you want to change your own mind!" said Johnny. "If you ever wanna tag along with us, the door's always open."

"And if you don't, well, we can still be friends!"

"Yeah, Rob's right! Just like how you can keep being pals with Ed and Eddy if they come tag along with us! We won't hate you if you decide to stay behind!"

"Yes! And, er… if you ever need any help with anything, you can just let us know!"

"Yeah, like, uh…" Despite already being hunched over, the big bear leaned in further. "...If there's anybody who's, uh, bugging you who you think you'd like an adult's help in dealing with, just give us a call, ahem!" He cleared his throat and opened his eyes to see Double-D have the same lost look on his face; the kid didn't seem to have any idea what the hell Little John was talking about, and Johnny hoped that was a good sign.

"Uh- guys, for real, we've made up our minds, we're cool with this," Eddy insisted. "Double-D ain't changing his mind and neither am I. And Ed won't shut the fuck up about adventure, so you know he's in no matter what."

"Ah, but we don't know until we try, now do we, lads!?" said Robin with an obnoxious smile. "And besides, it's Father's Day weekend, isn't it? And you and Ed aren't even available on the same days until Monday. Take the weekend off, boys. Spend some time with your families while they're still around. Just like with friends, we would never ask you to put us before the people you cared about long before you met us."

"Man, fuck our families, we don't wanna spend time with them!" Eddy hollered.

Little John couldn't help but think that sentence would be a lot more alarming if the wolf had said it, but since he hadn't, Johnny kept rolling with it.

"Y'know what? Fair point, fair point. Families suck sometimes. God knows mine did. But still, fulfill yer obligations, ruminate on what's on the table, and just to give you a picture of what is on the table…" Little John went digging in his back pocket and produced a few folded sheets of paper, then unwrapped one at such an angle where the boys could see it as he revealed it. "...we'd like you each to take one of these. To… let's say to give you an idea of what you'd be getting into."

Robin and Johnny carefully examined the looks on the boys' faces as they revealed the wanted poster to them. The wolf was still oddly catatonic, as though he had something else on his mind that weighed so heavily on him that this poster did nothing to shock him - hopefully he wasn't thinking about… that.

As for Eddy, the Men thought he looked like he was having an adrenaline rush, and they were spot on. The little fox saw the two men immortalized on paper and immediately knew he wanted that - and yet he had a healthy fear about what he'd have to do to get it. But again, this was all to be a journey to boost his self-image, and part of that ought to include overcoming his fears to get what he wanted, right?

"Here, take it," Johnny insisted. "Think of it as a trading card. Or a poster to hang in your bedroom if you're so inclined, though it might tip off yer parents."

But Eddy just kept staring at the piece of paper, enthralled by the dreams it represented.

"...Uh… ya wanna grab it, kid?"

"...Hm? Oh, what? N-naw, no, I'm not touchin' that."

"...Why not?"

"Because it's been in the ass-pocket of your pants for God knows how long and you've probably been farting on it all day."

Little John couldn't help but let all the joy and goodwill drain out of his face upon hearing that.

Robin pulled another copy of the poster out of his own back pocket. "Er… would you prefer one from me, Eddy?"

"What? Oh, sure, I'll take that," Eddy said as he stood up and walked over to Robin.

Robin reached for a few more, feeling the heat from Johnny's fuming breath bear down upon him from above. "Right. And, er, ta-take a few more. For Ed and any other friends of yours who might want some as a piece of memorabilia."

Eddy took the posters and went back to where he was sitting, but felt Little John's eyes glaring down at him. "What? What's with you?"

"Um- you'll have to forgive Eddy's rudeness, Mr. Little," said Double-D, much to everyone's surprise. "But, uh… you must remember that the only other bear to feature prominently in his life is one who quite literally misunderstands the virtues and importance of bathing and hygiene."

Little John glanced at Eddy, who still didn't seem to understand what the big deal was, and then back to Double-D, who everyone was still shocked to hear speak.

"Uh… if you say so," he grumbled, figuring that was going to be the closest thing to an apology he was going to get. "Well, alright, we got ourselves a busy day ahead of us, so if you guys are good, we're gonna head out-"

"Wait, you guys still ain't told us what the fuck happened to your arm!" Eddy hollered, pointing at Robin, who himself glanced at his cast.

"Oh! Er… nothing special, lads! Just fell out of a tree is all!" Robin felt no need to include the part where he was almost horrifically dismembered.

"...You fell out of a tree? That's it?" asked Eddy, who had never gotten the chance to actually sit down again and was now walking skeptically toward Robin. "And then what, you went to the hospital and just got a cast? And nobody noticed you're the guy on the wanted posters?"

"Actually, no! Good question, lad! We actually have a doctor friend who was gracious enough to patch me up, completely on the house!" Robin beamed, hoping that the news that their status came with powerful friends would mellow this kid out and make him stop seeming so oddly hostile.

Eddy was now standing right in front of Robin and staring straight up at him. "You're friends with a doctor? Don't you hate rich people?"

"Ah, but you forget that there do exist a rare breed of rich people who do use their powers for good, and they can make damn good allies! And we were fortunate enough to run into a doctor who went into medicine for the mercy and not for the money!" said Robin. Seriously, what did he need to say to calm Eddy down?

Helpfully, Eddy answered the question: "Alright, alright… makes sense enough… but I think you're still holding out on us. You just fell out of a tree? That's it? How do you live in a tree for years and just fall outta one one day?"

Robin wasn't sure how to handle this challenge. "Er-"

"You want me to join you? You need to be completely clear with me what kinda shit you guys get into. We need to know these things."

Well, when Eddy put it that way, Robin wasn't sure he had a choice. "Erm… well I-"

"Ya wanna know what really happened?" Little John interrupted.

"Hell yes, I do!" Eddy said to the ceiling.

Little John slowly kneeled down and hunched over further as he spoke to the small fox just as slowly, as if explaining life itself to a small child. "So some bad guys found our house. And they wanted to hurt us. And they almost got Robin. They almost got my friend, and I almost couldn't help him… because I ran off to get one bad guy while the other chased my friend up a tree. And before I could get back to help him, that bad guy'd already knocked him out of the tree. And when I got there, this bad guy… Robin, forgive me for this, but I'm gonna tell them."

And Robin gave one firm nod, trusting Little John to handle this conversation well.

"I got there and this guy was…" Little John paused to look at the ceiling and sigh. "...He was about to kill him. He was about to kill my friend. I won't tell you how, but he could have and he would have if I hadn't shown up. And I… I got there, he didn't see me, and I had… a weapon on me. And I…" Little John looked Eddy in the eyes as he put his gigantic paw on his little shoulder. "...And I had the option to kill this man. I could easily have killed him."

Eddy looked much like the little kid Little John seemed to be speaking to, eyes wide and mouth open slightly, eating up every word and relishing in the fact that he was being trusted with this information. But after a quiet moment, Johnny broke eye contact with Eddy and instead locked eyes with Double-D, who was still sitting in a corner, looking horrified.

"But I didn't," said the bear. "I didn't kill him. I… incapacitated him, I did my best to keep him from hurting my friend without permanently injuring him, and you know what? If I messed up, I might have accidentally killed him anyway. But I didn't try to kill him, and I didn't end up doing it by accident either, and I'm glad I didn't, because I've never killed anybody and I don't wanna start now. I don't know how I'd live with myself if I did. And it was the same with his friend: I knocked him out but I tried my best not to hurt him in ways that would never heal. Sometimes I succeed, sometimes I don't, but I've never killed anyone and neither has Rob. And you know what? Part of what scared me so much when I had to do that? It wasn't just that this guy almost killed my friend…" And he sighed again and stared at the wall. "...It was that it made me wonder… if there wasn't a way to save my friend without killing a man. That scared the shit outta me. It wasn't because I didn't wanna look like a bad guy… it was because I didn't want to believe I was a bad guy."

Little John first looked at Double-D, who seemed like he was relieved to see that Johnny was so eaten up at the sheer idea of hurting someone; then he looked at Eddy, who looked like he was still feeling that odd conflict between excitement for adventure and fear of mortality; and then he looked at Robin, who had been stoically watching Johnny tell the tale.

"You cool with how I delivered that, Rob?"

"Yeah…" Robin murmured, nodding as he gauged the boys' reactions. "You know, boys, we've had many a discussion with ourselves and others about… whether a hero would kill. And it seems Johnny and I agree on our answers: only as a severe, extreme last resort. And every time something like what happened to me the other day happens… we're grateful we haven't had to go to that last resort yet."

"Yeah, what he said," said Little John, who made a point to look at Double-D again. "So we hope that answers your question, bud. Assuming we were supposed to take it at face value." As opposed to it being some kinda code that you wanted us to crack that you wanted us to come save you from a dangerous home life, in which case I hope to fuck you understand that this is your cue to drop the vagueness and just spit it out so we can kick some fuckin' heads in. Little John no longer cared whether Double-D wanted to tag along in their adventures; he just knew the kid had a good head on his shoulders if a weak heart, and he just wanted the kid to think they were good guys. And Johnny was pretty sure Robin felt the same way.

"Hey, I gotta question," piped in Eddy.

"What's up, man?"

"So… where'd this all happen, then?" he asked with a confused shrug, palms to the air.

Johnny and Robin gave each other another glance, and after witnessing as many of these glances as they already had, Eddy and Double-D both knew the Merry Men were probably about to divulge some juicy information.

"So… tell us, lads," said Robin, "have we seemed… er, twitchy today?"

"I guess you could say paranoid," added Little John.

"Oh, totally," said Eddy. "Absolutely."

"Yeah, they found our camp," John muttered quickly, as if trying to rip off the Band-Aid of embarrassment.

"Sorry to say, our shelter's been compromised, boys," said Robin with a tired smile that anybody could see from a mile away he was only putting on to maintain his trademark cheeriness at a time when he wasn't really feeling very cheerful. "That's why we were so… skittish earlier; we'd hate to have our guests get hurt if they were looking for us!"

And the boys clearly didn't look like they took that well. Eddy now looked much less impressed by the Merry Men's so-called knack for success, while Double-D… y'know, they were expecting him to have freaked out at the idea that these strangers who were asking them to come participate in their lives just admitted that their lives had just become even more dangerous than they were when they originally posed the question and that the sheer act of visiting them at their own home was something that could have killed him had he been unlucky, but instead, the wolf looked distressingly at-peace with the news.

And indeed, Double-D was trying desperately to swallow the perverse joy he was getting from this feeling of vindication that their wild and reckless lives were exactly as unsustainable as he'd always maintained they were. "Well, uh, we do appreciate the caution you exercised in striving to maintain our safety."

"And speaking of appreciation," said Little John, "thanks again for letting us crash in your van - like, we know it's not your van but, y'know, squatters' rights. Because… we can't stay here anymore. This is still our turf and we know it better than they ever will, but we'd be sittin' ducks if we had the guts to hang our hats here. Hey, yer boy Ed, is he good at physical labor type stuff?"

"Is he good at it?" Eddy asked incredulously. "It's basically the only thing he is good at!"

"Good, we might need him to help push that van outta the junkyard and into… some place better. More secluded."

"At which point we'll duly compensate you for your time and efforts, boys," said Robin. "Don't worry, we would never ask free labor of you."

Ooh, money? Oh, Eddy liked the sound of that- no. No, he wasn't gonna be some day-laborer for them, he was gonna infiltrate their group as a permanent staple and he was gonna get a cut of this glory that got him salivating more than a dollar ever did. But apparently his plans to do this were being stalled by the Men themselves.

"So… you really sure you guys ain't ready for me?" he asked. "Because I'm ready to go, like… right now. Today."

"And we love your enthusiasm, Eddy, but we'd be remiss not to encourage you to savor your youth while you still have it!" said Robin. And if you should happen to fall in love with your childhood all over again and get cold feet about joining us, yes, it might totally screw us over, but at least we wouldn't have a guilty conscience about ruining even more kids' lives over our stupid hijinks.

"Yeah, savor your youth," said Johnny. "And your family, and your free time in general. Because you might not appreciate them now, you might even find them annoying, but there's gonna come a time when you don't have any of 'em, and when that day comes, you're gonna want them back. Mark my words."

Little John could see that Eddy wasn't taking his words to heart and instead just looked like he was listening to a self-righteous senior citizen dispense obsolete life advice. So Little John decided to make a different point and wrap this up.

"Besides, me and Rob have a big day already planned, earliest we can squeeze you in is Monday anyway. And if you do wanna come see us Monday, check the van before you check here, just in case these woods aren't safe. Alright?"

Eddy, still miffed by the roundabout rejection, decided he might as well be a smartass. "And if we can't find you anywhere, just assume you're either in prison or dead, right?"

"Oh, nonsense, Eddy!" Robin scoffed playfully. "They haven't nabbed us in seven years, they're not going to get us now!" And for most of the last seven years, he would have truly, genuinely believed that there would have been a one hundred percent chance that they would be around to see these boys again in three days' time, but Robin was older now, and while the old narrative goes that we typically learn to be more confident in ourselves as we grow older, age had given Robin the wisdom that perhaps he really shouldn't have been so childishly overconfident and ignorant of his own sheer dumb luck all these years.

But he was still damned good at pretending like he was incapable of questioning his own capabilities, and Eddy not only bought it hook, line, and sinker, but he saw it and he wanted to learn how to be like that too.

"I'll see ya on Monday," said the little fox, trying his hardest to emulate the large fox. "And when I do, I'll have my own big dumb bear in tow."

"Aw, who you callin' dumb, dumbass?" Little John growled. In addition to being steamed over the comment, his back was killing him again, so he got back on his feet and started standing up again. "How smart can ya be if ya call a guy big enough to swallow you whole dumb to his-?"

THUNK.

"GAAAAAHD, DAMMIT!" Johnny hollered as he clutched his head and fell right back to his knees. "Goddammit, I asked for this, I asked for this, for twenty-odd years I asked for this, and now I got it, alright…"

Robin forced a smirk and turned to the boys. "Remember, boys! Be careful what you wish for, it might just come true!"

The boys, of course, had no idea what the heck these two were referring to.

"I swear to God, one of these days I'm gonna crack my skull open," Little John seethed painfully.

"Johnny, your skull's likely a lot thicker than mine, and if I never cracked my own skull open after all those times I hit my head on door frames as a lad, I'm sure it'd take a lot for it to happen to you!" But seriously, Johnny, please don't ever get hurt like that, all of our friends combined probably couldn't carry you to the Doctor's house.

"Yeah, well ya better hope I never do, because you and all our friends combined probably couldn't carry me to Geoff's house," Johnny muttered; he seemed like his pain was receding.

"Who the heck's Geoff?" asked Eddy.

Robin raised his bounded arm. "Our doctor friend we mentioned. If you boys ever need medical assistance and can't afford it, just let us know and we'll put you in touch."

"I must ask," cut in Double-D, "while I admire this doctor's conviction, why would someone as virtuous as him simply work in a typical hospital? It seems like this gentleman would be an ideal candidate for an organization such as Doctors Without Borders." The young wolf still seemed suspiciously un-nervous around these men who had once petrified him.

"Hm, you know, that's a good question, Eddward," said Robin, "but we're glad he hasn't joined them or we'd be-"

"FUCKED!" Little John barked in pained frustration. "We'd be absolutely fucked."

"Right you are, Johnny. But if you'll excuse us, lads, my big dumb bear and I have some business to tend to! You good to go, Johnny?"

"Yeah…" he mumbled.

"Perfect! And I know exactly where we're going today!"

"...Where?" And now that Robin was back on his bullshit with assuming that Johnny would automatically cosign on whatever harebrained scheme he came up with, all of Little John's frustrations about Robin not treating him like an equal partner came rushing back. Well, the peace of mind was fun while it lasted.

"It's a surprise, Johnny! But suffice it to say that old Eddy here did a lot to inspire me!" Robin beamed as he turned to the fox in question. "And for that, Eddy, we thank you."

"Yeah… yeah, that's right," Little John grumbled. "By the way, you kids need an escort back home, or do you know the way?"

"Hey, we found you all by ourselves, didn't we?" asked Eddy shittily. "We'll be fine."

Well Jesus Christ, kid, I was just trying to be polite and offer. "Alright, just, uh… w-wait a few minutes after we leave to take off, alright? Just in case some motherfuckers who don't like us are waiting outside for an ambush."

"Understood, thank you for your concern, Mr. Little," said Double-D. Yup, still looking oddly unperturbed. Not comfortable, but not uncomfortable either.

"Alright, gentlemen! Wish us luck, and enjoy your weekend!" Robin bid as he walked out of the cave. "Coming, Johnny?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Little John, who was just saying screw it and crawling his way out, but not before glancing back at the boys. "Later, guys - and let us know if you guys need anything." He had his eyes on Double-D as he said that last part.

Neither Edd nor Eddy said anything; they merely waved at the men as they left the cavern. Double-D was still overwhelmed by conflicting feelings: he felt good to hear that the Merry Men were finally encountering some real challenges to knock some sense into them but he felt bad about feeling good about that, but he also thought this was a golden opportunity to fulfill his moral duty and show them the error of their ways and guide them to the light. He had a lot of thinking to do, and if silly Eddy and stupid Ed were going to leave him all alone, then he'd have plenty of time to contemplate his options.

Meanwhile, Eddy was feeling antsy. You needn't be reminded, Dear Reader, that he was now itching to see some action, but now he was starting to ponder if there was something he could do to get a head start on it. Now, he was pretty good at coming up with ideas for schemes and scams, but he wasn't so adept at figuring out the first steps to walking in a new direction. He thought he knew someone he could talk to for advice, someone who was pretty enterprising and good at coming up with ideas (or stealing them, which in practice was honestly just as good), but he was hesitant to ask him because he didn't want to give him that warm fuzzy feeling of being regarded as a worthy pedagogue. Oh, and speaking of family, that was right, he had to think of a Father's Day gift for tomorrow. Man, this sucked.

And as for the Merry Men themselves, they weren't too fond of making themselves appear cripplingly indecisive, but they agreed that putting the decision entirely in the boys' hands would clear their conscious on several levels, while still leaving the door open for the kids to provide some help that the Men probably shouldn't have asked for but which they desperately needed and would have accepted in a heartbeat. They were feeling pretty good about how they handled it, and if they were completely wrong about what they had inferred about Double-D's home life, they would have been glad to not be right. Now they were off to the city of Nottingham to have one of the worst days they'd had in recent memory.