~Jayson’s steps are quick and directionless as he walks down the street of Bliss Town. His head wound has hardened to a sticky scab, and a thin layer of blood has stained his white fur, brown hair, and blue scarf. But that is not bothering him in the slightest. Partly because he is used to the violence, and partially because the Hi-B Tangerine Magma Burst is proving to be a great, sweet and tangy flavored opiate.

While Jayson walks down the street, sipping his drink, he passes Arty's Arcade, which has police tape and plywood covering its gaping hole. He keeps walking in a trance-like state, sucking up the tangerine soda, and passing murals of rabbit soldiers in gas masks fighting in trenches, and a globe surrounded by green mist. As he passes the mural, police cars pass him, and moments later, the cup runs dry. He throws the cup in a trash can and sits on a bench.

Jayson takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and slouches in his seat as he slowly exhales. But the moment of peace ends as quickly as it begins. His ears twitch to the sound of a rapidly approaching whistle. His eyes snap open and his eyes barely register what he is seeing while his legs launch him away from the bench.

A rocket detonates directly on the bench, Jayson and pieces of the blasted wooden seat hurtling into the night sky. Jayson crashes onto the sidewalk but springs back up almost immediately, hand firmly clasped around his cosmic wood sword and his body throbbing from pain and anger.

Another rocket is fired at him, but he bats it away with a powerful swing. The projectile careens wildly and slams into a nearby tree, the force of the blast causing the tree to implode and splinter in an impressive display. His attention then snaps to the source of the missile on a roof several buildings down and narrows his eyes as the world darkens around him; he'd know Lexia's towering form anywhere. With a throaty growl, he takes off in a sprint down the sidewalk until he finally reaches the building.

Jayson jumps up and grabs the closest windowsill. Then he rapidly scurries up multiple levels, using his legs and core to propel him up each level while his fingers grip everything tightly. As soon as he clears the roof's edge, he sees Lexia waiting with her rocket launcher pointed right at him.

Jayson yells, rushes Lexia, and whacks her with his cosmic wood sword hard enough to create a shock wave inside the aura that cracks the roof and shatters glass. The destructive force of the energy tears Lexia's body into pieces with her head and arm flying away like debris floating in molasses, her rocket launcher shattering, and her torso breaking apart.

Jayson pants heavily, and the darkness leaves his sight, and the aura vanishes, allowing everything to crumble as it should. And when Jayson calms down, he realizes that there is straw stuffing all over the roof and there is a smiley face drawn on the scarecrow head poorly depicting Lexia’s features. This brings Jayson’s brain to fizzle and pop.

“What the heck?” says Jayson.

A gun cocks, Jayson whirls around and pushes the pistol up with his cosmic wood sword right as Lexia (wearing fluffy pink earmuffs) pulls the trigger. The bullet whizzes into the sky and Jayson punches Lexia in the face, knocking her earmuffs off.

Lexia stumbles back, holding her face with blood seeping past her fingers. Her voice is warped to a squeaky tone as she curses and stomps in circles, holding her nose, but Jayson frowns at her, not in the least bit sorry.

“Ow! What the heck, Jayson!?” cries Lexia.

“What do you mean what the heck!? I should be the one saying what the heck to you! Why are you trying to kill me again!?” says Jayson.

Lexia, still clutching her nose, draws her knife and swings it at Jayson. He blocks and uses fancy footwork and precise motions to evade and block her other swipes.

“You're on my side! I was defending my territory!” says Lexia.

Jayson blocks a few more swipes from Lexia, both of them moving in a circle as wood and steel clash on the roof.

“I'm not on your side!” says Jayson.

Then Jayson disarms Lexia, trips her, and pins her down on the cracked roof, his body on top of hers, nose to nose. BOTH GROWLING.

“That bench was on my side, you crazy freak!” says Jayson.

“No, it's not! It's next to Arty's Arcade! Which is on my side!” says Lexia.

Jayson thinks for a moment, reluctantly releases Lexia, and goes to the edge of the roof. It is an awkward angle, but he sees the crater where the bench used to be, and near it is Arty's Arcade. Which is when it registers that he is, in fact, on Lexia’s side.

“Crap. She's right... Man, Derrick really sucks at making maps,” says Jayson.

“Hey, Jayson!” calls Lexia.

Jayson groans. “What?”

He turns around and next thing he knows, he is blinded by a bright light, a wave of heat washes over him, and a strong force launches him and pieces of masonry into the sky. Everything is a messy blend of colors as Jayson screams and sails through the air with a trail of smoke.

Jayson’s limbs flail as he twirls through the air, and when he starts falling, a truck labeled as Paulie’s Pillows drives by, and Jayson lands through its trailer, shaking the truck. But the truck keeps going, and inside the trailer is Jayson, who is face first, sprawled out on many pillows with a Jayson-shaped hole on the roof. He is black and smoking and bits of blood are staining the pillows.

“I hate her,” groans Jayson.

----------------------------------------

Meanwhile, far away from the commotion, at the edge of Bliss Town, Mortimer Walters stomps his way down a driveway, gripping his beloved raccoon mask tightly in his hands. He passes thorny weeds, dead bushes, a lawnmower that has somehow been consumed by a tree and an ominous mailbox wrapped in razor wire. The cheerful chirping birds and dazzling sunlight seem to be mocking Mortimer's sour mood and the god-awful toilet water stench he is carrying with him.

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He approaches a run-down, two-story house with metal plates bolted onto its walls and razor wire lining the windows, roof and chimney. Like the driveway, the lawn is overgrown with weeds and tall grass, and a rusted swing set is laying as a crumbled mess near the house.

Mortimer unlocks the door and steps into a whole new world. A clean world, where the carpet has been deep cleaned, the stains on the walls have been removed, the couch has shown its true burgundy colors, and the furniture is dusted.

Mortimer stops in the doorway, staring with wide eyes at the wonderful sight. Even the air smells like pinecones. He hears dishes clanking in the kitchen, and he looks at the floor again. It is still damp from the steam cleaning, and his shoes are filthy from mud and other things, so he carefully takes off his muddy shoes and puts them on a shoe rack. Then he walks to the kitchen, where Claribel is.

The kitchen is spotless, and Claribel is scrubbing a large pan, and is wearing an apron and large cleaning gloves, as well as pajamas with colorful blocks on them, as well as a holstered pistol. Her tail rattles as she grumbles to herself, taking all the frustration out on the pan with her scrub pad. The sink and adjacent counter are full of dirty dishes, but there is a rack of clean dishes sparkling in the sunlight. But as Claribel cleans her tongue flicks out, and she pauses, all while Mortimer goes to the freezer.

Claribel turns around, and Mortimer reaches into the freezer and pulls out a pint of moose track ice cream.Claribel’s eyes widen at Mortimer’s battered state, and she drops the pan in the black, bubbly water.

“Oh my God! What happened!?” says Claribel.

Mortimer presses the pint against his head. “I had a run in with the Hobo Warrior Bunny. Dude's a dick. All I want to do is kill him, and he goes ape shit. I've never dealt with a maniac like him before."

Claribel huffs and pulls off her gloves. “First your gear, now this. We should ask Mama Bear for more money. And now that I think about it, the Bazooka Bunny is kind of crazy, too. Our pay needs to be doubled.”

“We can't ask her for more money until the job is done. So, I'm going to take a shower, and then look for the Hobo again.”

Mortimer tries to leave the kitchen, but Claribel lunges forward and grabs his arm.

“Wait, you need to rest for a while,” says Claribel.

Mortimer gently pries Claribel off his arm. “No. I have a job to do.”

“You're being stubborn, you know that right?” says Claribel.

“Well, sorry for not taking Mama Bear's job lightly. I kinda don't want to die. Unless you want to swap places with me, so you look while I relax,” says Mortimer.

“Can't. My contract clearly states I get Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays off. And I use those days for personal time. Well, except for today. I spent all day cleaning this place because apparently Rolland's group doesn't know how to use a sponge.”

“Wait a minute. You have a contract?”

“Yeah... Why? You don't?”

“No! Man, that's not fair! Mama Bear didn't even mention contracts when I joined her team!”

Suddenly, red lights start swirling in the living room, and techno music plays through hidden speakers. Mortimer quickly grabs a knife from the drawer and Claribel unholsters her pistol. They go to the living room and are stuck in a twilight zone of tension and confusion as the carpeted floor splits open and an elevator rises with colorful smoke pouring out. As the elevator rises, so do Mortimer and Claribel’s gazes until their heads are tilted up to meet the eyes of the newcomer.

Towering over the pair is a muscular ram with black fur, gray spots, and a white mane with blood red eyes. He has green rings on his wrists and neck and is wearing a lab coat over an armor padded blue bodysuit. The gift baskets contain fruits, candies, meat snacks, body and hair care products for foxes and snakes, and gift cards. One has a snake head and the other has a fox head taped to it. And he is grinning from ear to ear as he looks at the two, covering them in his shadow.

When the elevator locks in place, both sides stare at each other in silence, with the colorful smoke rolling and thinning out as it travels along the floor. Several more seconds of silence pass, with Mortimer’s eyes briefly flicking to Claribel before locking on the ram, and Claribel’s eyes darting to Mortimer for a brief second before focusing on the ram. And the ram holds his smile and keeps the gift baskets steady in his grip.

“Uh… can we help you?” asks Mortimer.

“Hello! I’ve got gift baskets for you!” blurts the ram, making Mortimer and Claribel jump.

He steps off the elevator and looks around, whistling impressively.

“Wow. This place looks a lot cleaner than when I last saw it,” says the ram. “I know Rolland’s group didn’t clean it. Who was it?”

He looks at Claribel.

“Was it you? It was you, wasn’t it?” he says.

“Yeah…” says Claribel.

“Good job. Great job, actually! I love what you did with the place!”

“I'm sorry, but who are you?” asks Mortimer.

“I'm Ramsey Prosper,” says the ram. “I am Mama Bear's cook for this region. I meant to drop these off yesterday, but after hearing what happened, I decided to wait for the mood to settle. By the way, the gift baskets are for you. Just reminding you.”

Claribel holsters her pistol and takes the baskets. After setting them on the coffee table, she immediately goes for the one with the snake head, and Mortimer returns the knife to the kitchen, grabs the moose track pint, and starts eating it with his fingers while going back to the living room.

“Mortimer, right?” asks Ramsey, pointing at the fox.

Mortimer nods.

“I heard you had a run in with the Hobo Warrior Bunny,” says Ramsey.

“Who told you?”

“I went to Taco king for lunch, but Juarez had the place closed for repairs. He told me what happened. He also said you and the Hobo Warrior are banned from his restaurant.”

“Please, it’s not a restaurant. It’s a fast food joint. And since you're here, do you know anything that can help us get rid of the Hobo Warrior Bunny?”

“And Bazooka Bunny, too,” says Claribel as she inspects a bottle of scale cleaner.

“Ah, well, I’d like to help, but the Hobo Warrior Bunny is a mystery. He just appeared one day with a lust for violence and vengeance. A scourge on the Mama Bear Syndicate, and every criminal making an honest living. As for the Bazooka Bunny? She has always been a part of Bliss Town. We just don't know where she lives. Or the Hobo for that matter.”

Mortimer frowns at this. and Claribel holds her gift basket tightly, and Ramsey meets their looks with an intense expression of his own.

“We would have gotten rid of them already if we could. But you're here because we need your help. The best advice I can give is to isolate and then overwhelm them. Because waiting for the Hobo and Bazooka Bunny to kill each other is just taking too long,” says Ramsey.

Mortimer rubs his chin. “I see... Clair, where's Rolland's group?”

“At the gym,” replies Claribel.

“Thanks!”

Then Mortimer hurries out and slams the door shut, leaving his ice cream on the coffee table, and Claribel and Ramsey alone. A hidden clock ticks, and Ramsey rubs his mane while Claribel looks away awkwardly.

“So... A snake, eh?” says Ramsey.

“Yeah…” says Claribel.

“I haven't seen one of you in a while.”

“Neither have I.”

“Right... Right... So, are you single?”

Claribel frowns and her tail rattles.