The sun shines brightly on Bliss Town. The chirping birds rest in the trees and on the powerline, the cracks in the sky are covered by the white fluffy clouds, and cars are bumper to bumper outside of the best fast food joint in town. Taco King.
The rugged sign has yet to be updated or repaired, so the same smiling taco with a crown and mustache has faded colors and a cracked shell where its light shines through. The taco waves with a ball shaped hand at the citizens of the completely safe and prosperous town, and cars bully each other to get into the drive-thru or parking lot. No amount of sunshine or chirping birds will calm them down until they get those delicious tacos.
The good news is that the rundown building that is Taco King is currently being repainted, bringing out bright yellow and red colors. And next to the door is a sign that says: "TACO TUESDAY SALE! 4 TACOS FOR 16 BUCKS!"
Cars honk, people shout, and the street is gradually being clogged by those desiring the amazing deal. But while they are distracted, Jayson rolls out of a nearby bush, his hand clutching his cosmic wood sword’s hilt tight. His eyes snap around, his nose and ears twitch, and then his eyes lock on a dumpster guarded by one wall of fencing. Jayson grins with a needy glint in his eyes, runs, and leaps on the fence. Then he climbs its old, splintered wall and dives into the dumpster.
A minute later, Jayson jumps out of the dumpster, covered in bits of food, sauce, and other things. In his hands is a bag filled with half eaten burritos and soggy tacos and nachos. But right as he leaves the dumpster, an old squirrel, wearing the Taco King uniform, greasy from hard work, rushes out the back door and approaches Jayson. This is Juarez Gomez.
"Hey, butt nugget! What are you doing in my trash!?" yells Juarez.
"I'm getting lunch," replies Jayson calmly.
"Go dig in the Crystal Plate's trash! Leave my trash alone!"
"Lexia won't let me on her side."
"I don't care. Get lost before I call the cops."
Jayson holds up his hand and bows his head in mock submission. "Alright, alright, relax. I'm outta here."
Juarez walks away, shaking his head, and Jayson huffs and looks at his collection.
"I'm going to need some hot sauce with this."
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Meanwhile, inside the Taco King, the entrance bell dings and Mortimer walks in, wearing his raccoon mask, which does an excellent job on covering his old scars and new bruises. But not even the mask can hide his annoyance when he sees how full the lobby is. And he finds a plague of disgust surging through him when he sees a large group of fat customers waffle away from the counter and go to the soda machine. The rest of the lobby is filled with customers of equal or greater fat, and Mortimer shudders and forces himself to go forward.
"It's like a pod of whales," grumbles Mortimer
When he reaches the counter, he smiles at a white furred, female lop eared rabbit with brown ears and dark curly hair. Her tag says "Mariana" and she looks like she'd rather be anywhere else besides stuck behind a cash register at a fast food joint.
"What do you want?" says Mariana.
Mortimer leans against the counter and smiles pleasantly. "Hello there, darling. I'd like the number five, King Don Burrito meal."
"Anything else?"
"A pleasant attitude from you will be nice."
"Not on the menu. That'll be twenty bucks."
Mortimer shakes his head and reaches into his wallet to pull out a wad of bills.
"I'll give you an extra twenty if you smile," says Mortimer.
"Tips are prohibited, as stated in chapter one subsection one of the King Food Enterprise Corporation Company LLC wagie manual," says Mariana. She reaches under the counter and plops down a cup with a smiling taco on it. "Your cup. Unless you want to upsize it to a large for an extra three fifty."
Mortimer snatches the cup and puts a twenty on the counter. "Keep the change. And smile more, you'll live longer."
Mariana puts the money in the drawer and gives Mortimer his receipt. "I've lived long enough."
Mortimer rolls his eyes and goes to the soda machine.
“Freakin’ emos,” grumbles Mortimer.
As this happens, Juarez returns to the front, Mariana gives the ticket to the backline workers, and Jayson enters the lobby, passing Mortimer as he fills his cup, and he goes to the counter, clutching his bag of trash food tight.
"Excuse me, can I get some hot sauce for my trash burrito?" asks Jayson.
Juarez sneers and points at the door, past Jayson's shoulder.
"Hey, I told you to get lost!" he says.
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"All I want is some sauce for the food you threw away," says Jayson.
"You think I'm playing when I said I was going to call the cops!?"
Mortimer tops off his drink, snaps on the lid, and turns around to look at Juarez.
"Just give the guy some hot sauce. It's bad enough he has to eat out of the... trash."
Mortimer's voice drifts to silence and he and Jayson look at each other. Jayson stares at him too, and like gears closing a door, the more Jayson stares the narrower his eyes become. The lobby gets quiet, the environment darkens until all Jayson sees is Mortimer. The hobo’s hand tightens around his cosmic wood sword and Mortimer clamps his pistol's grip.
Time ticks by. The two continue staring at each other. Jayson's eyes and nose twitch, and Mortimer's claws extend as his eyes snap to Jayson's hand and face. Both of their ears twitch as the noise of the faded environment floats around them with lighthearted chatter, laughter, and a kid somewhere talking about their toy.
The two rivals keep staring, hearts thumping, hands tensing and eyes narrowing with their breaths going into forced regulations.
Suddenly the environment returns and snaps back to life and Jayson releases his grip on his weapon the same time Mortimer does.
"Your voice sounds familiar," says Jayson.
"You look familiar," says Mortimer.
"Have we met?"
"I don't know. Have we?"
"Where's your weird equipment?"
"You mean the one you gunked up with soda syrup? Yeah, it needs new everything, so thanks for that, dipshit."
"You literally tried to kill me with a car. And cutlery. And a door."
Mariana returns with a tray of food and stares at the tense standoff, completely bored by what she sees. Juarez, meanwhile, has his hand on the phone.
"Order 318," says Mariana.
"That's my order," says Mortimer.
"Can you get some sauce for me?" says Jayson.
"What kind of sauce?"
"Hot sauce."
"The kind that makes you bleed?"
"No. The kind that has a hard kick, but is still forgiving."
"That would be the Kind of Mild Sauce," says Mariana.
"How many would you like?" asks Mortimer, his eyes focused on Jayson's hand again.
"Five packets."
Mortimer walks towards the counter, his steps slow and heavy, and Jayson moves away, keeping his eyes on Mortimer. Once at the counter, Mortimer slowly pulls out his wallet.
"Give the Hobo Warrior Bunny a large drink to wash down the trash, and I'll need five packets of your Kind of Mild Sauce," says Mortimer.
"That'll be three fifty," says Mariana.
Mortimer gives Mariana the money, and she gives him the change, cup and sauce packets. Mortimer puts the packets in the cup and approaches Jayson. Once they are toe to toe, Jayson has to tilt his head up so he can meet Mortimer's eyes, and the fox's whiskers shift from his muzzle twitching, and he holds the cup out to Jayson.
"How about we enjoy our meals, and when we're done we can go back to trying to kill each other. Sounds good?" says Mortimer.
"Fine by me," says Jayson, taking the cup.
"Good."
Jayson shakes the packets into his bag of trash food, goes to the soda machine and fills his cup with Hi-B Tangerine Magma Burst. Then he and Mortimer take their seats at opposite sides of the lobby, but within easy sight of each other.
The pair stare at each other in complete silence as they eat their meals, and after Jayson finishes eating, he goes to the bathroom, feeling Mortimer's eyes following him.
Once inside the bathroom, Jayson walks to the sink, sets his cup down, and grips the off-white porcelain tight. His heart races, his breathing is heavy. His tired, baggy eyes stare back at him through the scratched mirror. The world dims, and behind Jayson is the Female Specter. He stares at it through the mirror, and it looks back at him with its white void eyes with its thin red lines trailing its forearms, like blood seeping from cuts. The black mass that its head splits open, exposing white teeth. Before it can say anything, the bathroom door opens, and Mortimer walks through the Specter, causing it to disappear.
Jayson’s heart races and his hands grip the sink tightly as he and Mortimer lock eyes.
“You should have taken your time eating. Or tried running,” says Mortimer.
“I didn't feel like doing either of those,” says Jayson.
Mortimer locks the bathroom door and draws his pistol, and Jayson studies the fox through the mirror.
“Eh. Still should have tried,” says Mortimer.
“Well, you're here, so go for it,” says Jayson.
Mortimer aims his pistol and-
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Out in the lobby, the cheerful chatter of the customers and annoyed shouts of the workers are interrupted by gunshots and glass shattering ringing out from the bathroom. People scream and dive down or run out the back. More sporadic gunshots and shattering porcelain ring out, and Mariana calmly drinks from a small cup while Juarez and the other employees duck for cover. A few seconds later, Mortimer flies through the bathroom door and hits the wall, knocking a framed picture loose. But he quickly gets back up and rushes inside the bathroom.
The bathroom is a wreck of shattered mirrors, and broken stalls and toilets. Bullet holes cover the walls and shattered tiles and glass litter the floor as water pumps from the broken sinks and toilets. Mortimer's pistol is in the corner, and Jayson and Mortimer exchange brutal punches and kicks; they block and deflect what they can, bouncing off the walls, breaking more tiles and crashing through more stalls.
They roll around each other, their claws tearing at each other’s skin and clothes, and when Mortimer attempts to bite Jayson, he slams his hand under the fox’s chin, forcing it shut. Then Jayson kicks Mortimer off, but before he can fully recover, Mortimer scrambles to his feet, grabs Jayson and slams his head into the wall.
Jayson’s ears ring and his vision spins as blood trickles down his head, and Mortimer grabs a broken piece of toilet and goes for a stab. Jayson swiftly grabs Mortimer’s wrist and uses his momentum to swing him into a stall, breaking it to pieces. The two stumble around, feet splashing in the filthy toilet water, and Jayson kicks out Mortimer’s footing, headbutts him, and flips him onto the floor. Then he stomps on Mortimer’s head, making the fox limp, and Jayson stumbles back, breathing heavily and clutching his heart.
When Mortimer remains motionless, Jayson grabs his cup off the floor, shakes out the water and goes to the lobby. He ignores the horrified stares of the remaining guests as he refills his drink. After that, he grabs a handful of napkins and presses them against the gash on his head, but stops abruptly when he feels an odd sensation running through his spine. He turns around and sees Mariana staring at him, still bored.
They stare at each other for a few seconds before Jayson shakes his head and exits the Taco King.
Outside, the sun is warm and the parking lot and drive thru is empty, making Jayson’s walk easy. Jayson sips his drink and presses the napkins harder against his head as blood seeps down his cheek and stains his hand and wrist. Sirens wail in the distance, but he doesn't care. Today is just another day for the Hobo Warrior Bunny.