The afternoon sun shines down on Claribel as she trudges to the safe house, alone. One hand has her violin gun case. The other is her hat. When she enters the safe house, nothing registers around her.
There is a void of memory as Claribel goes from the house entrance to locking herself in her bedroom. She sits heavily on her bed and stares at her computer while holding the hat close to her. Claribel lays down on the bed, which is adorned with a Block World blanket and pillows, and curls up with the hat held tight, and she squeezes her eyes shut.
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At the Crystal Plate, Mortimer and Lexia sit underneath a small crystal chandelier hanging above their table, which is a decor that every table has. Fancy dressed waiters and waitresses, and a small music band playing calm music on a stage. Armed guards are nearby.
Mortimer is sitting at a table, mask on, head resting on his fist. There is a plate of meaty food and a large drink in front of him. Across from him is Lexia, wearing a nice dress, eating a big plate of food with large cups of drinks.
Both of them have steak knives aimed at each other on the table.
“So then I was like yeah, and he was like no, and I was like yeah, and he was like no, and I was like yeah, and he was like no. Finally my feminine charm convinced him to give me 20 bucks so I can pay for my overdue fee and check out more books,” says Lexia.
“I don't care,” says Mortimer.
Lexia takes a sip of her drink and leans back in her chair, shifting sideways with one leg draped over the other, and her white and brown face glowing with mischief as she smiles at Mortimer. "Well, that's my thrilling tale. I bet you've got some interesting stories too, being a hitman and all. Come on, spill! What's it like working for the big bad Mama Bear?"
“I'm not a hitman, I'm a ‘Fixer’. Big difference,” says Mortimer.
“What kind of differences are we talking about?”
Mortimer rolls his eyes behind his mask. "I don't have to answer that. Besides, I didn't invite you to lunch so we could swap life stories. I'm here because Claribel ditched me after your little stunt ruined her favorite hat. The only reason I haven't killed you yet is because there's too many witnesses around."
"Excuses, excuses." Lexia waves him off. "You've tried to kill me and Jayson in public plenty of times. I think deep down, you like me. Why else would you pay for my meal and compare me to a sexy Amazonian? Face it, Morty, we've got a connection."
Lexia grins and wags her brows with lidded eyes, and Mortimer's eye twitches.
"I don't know if you're delusional or desperate. Also, I'm not paying for your meal."
“Why not?”
“Because it's not a date and if I pay for your meal then you're going to mooch off me like the financial irresponsible weirdo you are.”
“Lies and deceit!”
“You literally had the Hobo pay your library fee this afternoon.”
“He owed me for a soda.”
Mortimer grips his knife tighter, imagining plunging it into the infuriating rabbit's neck.
Lexia notices his white-knuckled grip on the blade and smirks. "Careful, Morty. Wouldn't want to cause a scene, would we? How about we enjoy this temporary truce and this expensive food?"
“Don't call me Morty,” says Mortimer.
Lexia grabs a small menu and gasps with excitement.
“Ah, look! Apple pie and icecream for dessert!” says Lexia, putting a piece of steak in her mouth. “Do you want pie?”
“Are you going to pay for it?”
“No.”
"Then we're not getting pie," says Mortimer sharply.
Lexia frowns at Mortimer, momentarily pausing her chewing as she studies him with narrowed eyes. She swallows her large bite and points her fork at him.
"You're being rude. I'm trying to make pleasant conversation here,” says Lexia.
"Well, you're doing a bad job at it," growls Mortimer. He taps his claws against the tabletop impatiently. "I don't want to have a conversation with you. I wanted to have lunch with Claribel, but she was too upset to even talk to me because you tore up her favorite hat."
"Ah, okay. Here's my advice - get her some flowers, and then breed her. She'll be happy in no time."
“What? Ew.”
Lexia raises a brow. “What do you mean ew? She's cute. You're hot. Got to town. Your relationship will bloom.”
"I don't need your shitty relationship advice,” says Mortimer. “Claribel and I are just partners. That's it. End of story."
"Oh suuure~ you are," Lexia sing-songs mockingly. She pops another bite of food in her mouth. "Face it, Morty, you've got it baaad for that snake. It's obvious to everyone except you two oblivious idiots apparently. But if it's not going to work, I'm here for you.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Lexia finishes with a wink and a click of her tongue, and Mortimer opens his mouth to argue further but thinks better of it. There's no reasoning with this insane rabbit. He huffs out an aggravated sigh and pushes his half-eaten plate of food away, his appetite gone.
"Forget this. I'm done here." Mortimer stands abruptly, chair screeching against the floor. He tosses some bills on the table to cover his portion. "Enjoy the rest of your lunch. I hope you choke on it."
“I will enjoy it and I won't choke on it. When will we see each other again?”
“Tomorrow when I kill you.”
Lexia smirks. “Cool. See you then!”
After Mortimer leaves, Lexia’s smirk fades and her lips dip to a frown. She swirls her drink and stares at her food with heavy eyes that slowly wetten. As she sits in silence, their waiter, Owen Owenheim, walks up to the table, frazzled and black bags under his eyes.
“Alright, are you paying or what?” asks Owen.
Lexia seethes. “Can I put it on my tab?”
Owen narrows his eyes.
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When Mortimer enters the Safe House, flowers in hand, he ignores Rolland’s group and goes upstairs. He stops by Claribel’s room and listens.
It is completely silent.
He tests the door, but finds it locked, so, he sighs heavily turns the flowers in his hands, and decides to put them next to the door.
He goes to his room after that and quietly shuts the door behind him. As Mortimer removes his coat, he turns and stops, staring at his bed.
Mortimer's brows scrunch and he approaches his bed, eyes locked on a metal case with the emblem of a winged DNA strand on it. A note is taped to the case that reads: "Use the date you remember most."
With a keypad lock securing the case, Mortimer types in his birthday and the case clicks open, revealing his electro-magnetic equipment fully repaired. He sits down on his bed and stares ahead in shock.
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The door opens to Lexia Hartwick's burrow, and she trudges in, eyes bloodshot, ears dropped, hair messy and the scent of industrial dish soap clinging to her patchwork of white and brown fur and her clothes. The wall outside her burrow is a pale yellow with blue stripes and bright humming lights. When the door closes, the humming disappears, and Lexia deflates with a sigh.
She is finally at her sanctuary.
“Mom, I'm home!” calls Lexia.
“Welcome back, dear!” replies a shaky voice from the kitchen.
Lexia walks to her room, passing the kitchen and stealing a glance at a scrawny female harlequin rabbit twice her age. Lexia is a spitting image of her mother, the only thing missing between the two are the hare genetics. And the scrawny, older harlequin is sitting at the table, back Lexia and trembling fingers working with glue and popsicle sticks to make a clocktower.
Lexia goes to her room and kicks off her shoes. The thick carpet is soothing for her feet, and she flops face down on her bed, sinking into the pink blanket while the light from her lava lamp shines on her possessions on her bookshelf.
Possessions such as books, figurines, a small ruby and gold statue of a vixen pole dancing with “#1” on the base, and a yellow envelope.
Lexia stares at the envelope. Her brain briefly shutting down from the confusion. She slides off her bed and checks the envelope, seeing it is unmarked.
She grunts tears it open and sees a winged DNA strand with “318” below it. Her eyes skim the words, slowly widening, and when she is done, she runs out of her room.
“Mom, how did this envelope get in my room!?”
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Jayson jerks into motion with a loud gasp, and finds himself standing outside the library, the world dimmed from the sun setting. The library entrance is locked and a “CLOSED” sign hangs on the door. Jayson blinks, looks at his hands, and then rapidly pats himself as he paces in a tight circle. He doesn’t feel anything broken, but his skin is tingling and his heart is heavy and beating rapidly. As he paces, he doesn’t see Mariana anywhere and also realizes that he is outside the library.
Jayson snarls and runs to the library door. Despite the sign saying they’re closed, Jayson still tugs on the door. The handles jiggle uselessly, and when he goes to the library window to peek inside, he sees silhouettes of shelves, books, and tables in the dark, but not Mariana or anyone else.
“Are you…?” Jayson stomps away, pacing in circles and clawing at his hair. He stops and glares at the library. “What the hell was that!”
When silence is his response, Jayson growls again and storms away, grumbling to himself, rubbing his aching heart with his trembling hand.
A little while of traveling later, and Jayson finally makes it to his burrow. The battered wooden door made from pallets is pushed open, and Jayson enters the decayed abode. The door is closed and locked with a wooden slab, and he goes to his firepit. He lights a fire, sits on the ground, and stares at the flames, watching them grow and listening to them crackle. A couple of minutes later, the fire is bright and its rage is contained in the circle of stones. Jayson’s body still tingles, but his heart has calmed down. He breathes through his nose, opens his yearbook, and flips to the page he wants. Once there, he stares at the picture.
((((O)))))
Proud parents clap, cheer and yell with contagious pride and joy in in a packed stadium. On the stadium floor, graduation caps fly through the air. High school students, all rabbits wearing their navy blue gowns, celebrate their accomplishment.
Among them is a young Jayson, looking clean and healthy in his own gown as he navigates through the crowd with his diploma in hand. He finally reaches Lexanne, her eyes lined in dark shadow and her dark hair braided with spider web styled hand stocking. She greets him with a warm smile and an outstretched hand. Jayson takes it eagerly and they embrace tightly, the surrounding world fading away around them. In that moment, it's just the two of them, basking in happiness and a promise of a bright future together.
((((O)))))
Outside of the memory, trapped in his decaying home, Jayson sniffles and bites his hand as he looks at the yearbook photo of the graduation ceremony; he and Lexanne are off to the side, almost completely hidden by the mass of, but he sees them.
Tears roll down his face, wetting small circles on the photo, and the yearbook falls to the floor. He grabs his cosmic wood sword and holds it tight against him as he stares ahead in silence.
Minutes later, there's a knock on the door.
Jayson’s ears perk, and he remains in his spot, tensely staring at his door. He doesn't hear anything, though. No more knocking, no rustling, no signs of any movement. He slowly stands and keeps his hand on his weapon’s hilt as he cautiously approaches the door.
He stops a few steps away and listens again. There is still silence.
He grabs the rigged handle, takes a deep breath, and pulls the door open. Tiny bits of moonlight peek through the canopy, and bugs buzz and chirp, and in front of the door is a yellow envelope.
Jayson looks around before he grabs it. He looks around again and when he sees nothing, he closes his door and jams a thick log underneath its knob. Then he goes to his fire pit.
The light of the fire flickers against Jayson, splashing sharp shadows along the wall and floor. He opens the envelope and sees a paper with a winged DNA strand and "318" printed above the typed paragraph. Jayson skims the letter, but his eyes stop on a picture of a male ram with dark gray fur, white muzzle, white hair, and yellow eyes. Below that is "50,000b + erasure"
Jayson furrows his brow and turns the page over. There is a note scribbled on it in red glitter ink, and another piece of paper underneath it.
"We know what you did. Take the offer."
Jayson drops the paper, and with it is the death certificate for Lexanne Hopper.
His legs lose all strength, dropping him to the ground. His body trembles as he runs his fingers through his grungy hair and stares at the ground, eyes wide and breathing ragged. His throat is tight and his heart feels like it is shredding, and there is only one thought in his mind.
‘What is going on?’