Toon's Inkwell

"Lucky" ding "Rabbit" ding "That lucky Oswald rabbit" dink dink "nicest rab–" Oswald suddenly stopped, looking down at his banjo with a raised eyebrow "it shouldn't sound like that, Right?"

"Nope" Felix responded blankly, flipping a page of a book he held "that thing ain't tuned"

"Mmm... Thought so" the buck grumbled, tuning his banjo "this thing never is..."

The cat and rabbit duo rested in the basement beneath the floorboards of a quaint unfinished house in the countryside. Times like these were a rare opportunity for the two, Felix's company forbidding communication with other acting toons and Oswald's not allowing a lot of free time. It didn't matter what obstacle was in their way though, both managed to make their friendship work. The rabbit had cleverly planned out a weekend retreat for the two under the guise of having the cat "help him build his retirement home", Felix of course left out the specifics of who he was helping. If his company knew it was one of his competitors they never would have let him go, but the feline was used to lying to get out of sticky situations. It had become second nature to him, lying just came easy when his entire career was built on hiding who he really was. Which is why currently it felt so strange to him.

It had been a month since he revealed what he really looked and sounded like and while he couldn't take off his mask because of the fuss his manager made about it "slipping off"—as he told him—before, Felix still spoke in his natural voice. The raspy, hoarse, almost smokerish voice that would scare anyone else. It didn't scare Oswald though, in fact the rabbit's ears always perked up cutely each time he spoke. The cat found it strange, a deep bubbling within his chest always rising when the buck listened, but it was the good type of strange. The type of strange he'd never want to give up.

"Say Oz" Felix started, his eyes unmoving from his book "How did ya process me showing off all that I am? I remember you looked like a kid in a candy shop when staring at my face, but there had to be some fear... Right?"

"Hmm?" As usual Oswald's ears twitched, his attention immediately snapping to the cat "uhh... That's a strange question to randomly ask, don'tcha think?"

"I mean, sure it's weird to bring up, I'm just curious is all"

"Well you know what they say Tommy" he leaned in and booped the cat on his faux nose "curiosity is what killed the cat"

Felix wiggled the nose of his mask and shook his head "buuuutttt–" he leaned over, grabbing a hold of Oswald's "satisfaction brought it back"

With a firm tug Felix popped Oswald's nose right off, an empty black hole remaining where it once was.

"HAY!" Oswald shouted all nasally "gimme that back!"

Felix reeled backwards seeing Oswald try and grab his nose back "If you want it back–" he jumped to his feet, holding it above his head "go ahead and take it!"

Oswald followed the cat's lead, dropping his banjo and standing up "you're on Tommy!"

Felix was soon tackled to the ground, the buck grabbing onto him and trying to wrestle his nose away. This was fairly common for the two, a little playful game of keep away involving body parts that could harmlessly detach. Felix only had the power to do it to his tail so he took every chance he could to try and pop something off his friend, finding it cute the way the rabbit's tail always wagged. Even when rolling around on the floor, scraping themselves against the stone and against a few boxes filled with items they were using for the construction, they remained unphased by anything else. Instead it was just the two of them, having fun and giggling while they fought without actually hurting each other. Just like every other time they did it it ended when both physically weren't capable of going on anymore. They huffed and panted, staring up at the ceiling struggling to breath while they continued to giggle.

"Ha-hay Felix?" Oswald gasped "You... You okay?"

"I'm fine" he dismissed with a wave "You good?

Oswald didn't respond. He was still struggling to breath and instead just gave a weak thumbs up for an answer. Honestly that response alone was a sort of a lie since he was more than "just good", he felt alive. Distinct loud beats of his heart was audible in his ears, his pulse much more rapid than what it should have been. It seemed to always get like that when around Felix, whether it was just talking or goofing around and wrestling, it always seemed to race. The little black cotton ball tail of his wagged back and forth dusting off the floor beneath him, another sign of his excitement that was impossible to ignore.

"... Felix?" Oswald finally spoke with his still ragged breaths "do you know what I actually felt when you showed me your face?"

Felix's ears twitched and he looked over to face the buck, a glimmer in Oswald's eyes making it hard to form thoughts "wha... What did you feel Oz?"

"I was happy" Oswald grabbed Felix's hand and squeezed, reassuring the cat there was not for a second any fear "I was happy that you cared enough about me to open up, I don't think I could ask for a better friend"

Felix tensed up, his claws emerging from his fingertips for a split second. The sudden hand holding was... odd. Him and Oswald were very touchy with each other but they never held hands casually so it startled him which made no sense? Oswald would kiss him on the nose and he would return the gesture whenever they had to say goodbye and were in private, so why did the handholding feel so different? Like a fluttering butterfly that strange sensation rumbled through his chest, something like anxiety but... Nice? He couldn't quite put a finger on it but it wasn't the same anxiety he felt whenever his manager spoke to him but rather like something was gently purring.

Oh god—it was Oswald!

Felix had looked up at the ceiling for a second and in that time Oswald had crawled over and rested himself upon the cat's chest. Gentle purrs from the tired buck rumbled throughout Felix's body. His eyes were closed so he didn't doubt that his friend was probably exhausted from all the roughhousing, but this? This was new. All this was new. That fluttering within him, the touching, the constant compliments, none of this was in his life before Oswald came into it. Before he spent the few seconds of free time he had with his faux face crammed in a book to dissociate for a bit. With Oswald though he didn't need to do that. Instead he could actually enjoy this. He could enjoy the feeling of someone who actually cared for him purring on his chest, no doubt probably already asleep.

Het hummed a jaunty tune as he descended the stairs of Euthanasia's basement. He knew exactly where everything stood and by the looks of things not an inch had changed since he seen it last. It was years but his eye picked up every little detail that he could recall, the creaky wooden stairs that threatened to give way under his paws but never would, the corners of the ceiling compact with cobwebs, even the smell was the same. Damp and cold, like a swamp in the dead of night, the air was murky from the rusted pipes that hadn't been used for months and fixed for years. The smell itself was actually somewhat pleasant to the cat, a far cry from what he had subjected to himself before. Not only that but unlike the air up above which stung his nose hole with the faint smell of that bitch who used to live there, the basement was free of that. It was clean, untouched, a capsule capturing a moment just right before—

THUNK

Het threw his bag onto a wooden bench near the back of the basement, the expansive space inside filled with tools, a few leftover parts of his victims, and some miscellaneous items jostled about. The bag of "tricks" of his was a mess inside, he hadn't cleaned it in ages. Maybe that's why he couldn't find something to kill Euthanasia with last time. His own disorder and useless junk prevented him from finding a proper tool to use for mutilation. That was a damn shame. He had no interest in killing the buck—well, not now at least. Still, back when he did plan it he kinda wished he could have found something good to use instead of beating Euthanasia with his own appendages. Granted, it was hilarious, but he could have easily prevented himself from getting shot.

"OH!" Het snapped his fingers and looked around, his eye able to perfectly see in the darkness of the room "Oz kept a mirror round here somewhere, now where did he—aha!"

Past a few boxes that cluttered up the scenery was an object propped up on the wall covered by a thin white sheet. Had the boxes always been here? He'd check them in a moment, for now he had to deal with the little issue of his disability. Well, it didn't *start* as a disability, but over time and the repeated blows to the head, body, and everywhere, he had grown numb to most sensations both externally and internally. At first it was neat not feeling pain, then it slowly became troublesome until it was a downright pain in the behind—which he would not be able to feel. As it would turn out not feeling things leads to injuries going unnoticed, honestly it was a surprise internally bleeding hadn't taken care of him sooner. Maybe it was a sort of divine blessing in a way for him to continue his work and continue making that rabbit's life miserable. It was strange how he consistently attributed his continued existence to blessings and what not, he didn't actually believe in the divine and constantly mocked the belief in a god. It was just a saying though, he shouldn't think too much of it. What was he doing? Oh! Mirror, that's right.

Het walked over, yanked the cover off the mirror, and examined his appearance. The light on sure as hell would have helped his examination—but he didn't wanna walk all the way over to the light switch. Why didn't he just switch the light on when he walked down? That was a good question. A darn good question he didn't have the answer to. He was already at the mirror, it wouldn't have killed him to walk over but he just really didn't want to. Cats could see in the dark after all, why waste the gift he was born with by using lights? Speaking of things he was born with: there wasn't anything out of the blue on his face. The cold bone of his skull was relatively intact, even the cracks from where Euthanasia shot him were thinning. It would probably take a day or two—give or take—but the bullet hole that was currently covered by two band-aids would be sealed as well. That just left his body to be looked at and so far everything was good? His fur was scruffed, it had been so long since he brushed or groomed himself, but he couldn't think of the last time it had returned to its original fine, silky texture. His tail was probably good? He gave it a good wiggle to make sure and nothing looked off or broken. He had grown adept at making sure the bones in his tail were fine, he couldn't tell if they were cracked but if they were broken it would make the way it moved rather limp. Breaking others’ bones also helped him understand if his body had something wrong with it. You don't torture a few people without learning a few things about the human body. That was a bit of an issue, he really only knew about the human body rather than his own. Toons and humans weren't that different though, his knowledge wasn't totally worthless. Now the only thing left to check was his lower half to make sure there was no-

"Blood"

Het's ears twitched and his gaze shot back to the mirror. The dim light that emanated from his eye bounced off, basking him in a very small glow. It was this glow that caught his eye that made him do a very quick run over his figure, finally spotting the pool of blood that seeped from under him. How did he not see that sooner? He could still feel whenever his fur got wet or temperature changed, they weren't as numb as pain. Either way, now that he realized it now he had to do something about it.

"You need to fix that"

Het's ears twitched again and he glared at his reflection "can't fix something when I don't even know what needs to be fixed"

The cat sat on one of the boxes on the floor. Resting one leg on the other, he dragged his hand across his blood drenched paw searching for any wound. The calloused pads of his scraped against his fingers, the texture making him tense up. He couldn't let himself be bothered by such a thing, he had to make sure the bleeding would stop or bare minium check if it was a type of cut that would fix itself. The fact that he was even bothered by the texture in the first place was a tad bit strange. He had explored all the squishy bits that someone had on the inside and constantly tested what different things such as organs felt like. Why was the feeling of his paw pads something that concerned him?

"Could be glass"

"No... I think I would have felt the shard" Het replied, still searching himself "wait-" he looked up, meeting his reflection's stare "why would it be glass? It's the countryside? How many rednecks do you think there are bashing bottles or other bullshit out here of all places?"

"There's lots of blood. Broken glass causes lot's of blood"

Het pressed his fingers to his head, smearing the blood on himself as he rubbed temples that weren't there "Lots of things cause blood ya know? Correlation doesn't equal causation"

"Imply"

"What?"

"It's correlation does not imply causation. Not correlation does not equal causation"

"Oh for Christ sake!" Het stood up, the platter of his paw sinking itself back into the blood making him already regret getting worked up. Still, he persisted, pointing to his reflection with a snarl that his face couldn't physically make "I really do hate smartasses like you, equal and imply are interchangeable in this circumstance, what's the difference!?"

"Difference is ones the saying and ones something you said because you forgot"

"WHY DOES THAT FUCKING MATTER!" Het grinded his sharpened teeth against each other "you're not my English teacher, why are you lecturing me on useless bullshit like this!?"

"You never paid attention to your English teacher in the first place"

"BECAUSE I FOUND HER AN INSUFFERABLE CUNT!" He turned away, pacing back and forth a few feet away from his reflection"all the damn time I gotta deal with morons who just plague my life! Person after person, it's just a stream of ignorance that I must subject myself too! I swear if I ignored each and every idiot on my way through life I would be living high and mighty, maybe I'd even be like one of those elitist pricks up in the Hollywood hills partying, living an actual good life instead instead of being forced down here in some musty basement that's air is the only reprieve I got from the contamination this house is ripe with!"

"Do you hate it?"

Het paused, slowly turning to the mirror his voice lowered "... Hate what?"

"Your life. Currently living down in the basement of the only person you ever l-"

"DON'T!" The cat raised a finger, his eye twitching at his accursed reflection's sentence "I don't... Need... A lecture from you..." He took a step forward, eyeballing that smile that mocked him "I know what you're gonna say, and you're wrong... Deeply wrong"

"Mistaken"

"..." Het's eye twitched again "... What..."

"The saying is mistaken, deeply mistak-"

CRASH

The full force of the feline’s fury came crashing into the mirror. His fist shattering it into dozens of tiny pieces that scattered all around him. He couldn't feel the shards stabbing into his knuckles, instead all he felt was unadulterated fury. How dare it. How fucking dare it try and lecture him. Where did it get off trying to tell him what was what? What gave it the right to ask him or correct him with this useless garbage!? Most importantly: why didn't it stop! Why did they just get louder, why are there more of them!? He couldn't fathom why but they just kept coming, like disgusting roaches emerging from a rotting carcass they swarmed him. Dozens of little voices running rampant making his skin crawl, no matter how much he scratched and clawed at his skin none of which would go away

"Do you feel happy?"

"Shut up"

"Does it satisfy you?"

"Shut up"

"Do you really think your making a difference doing this?"

"I know what difference I'm making, just shut it!"

"Where do you think this will lead you?"

"I don't care! Just shut up!",

"You deserve it. Not them"

Tears swelled in his eye. Looking down at the shattered glass he could see the abhorrent demon mocking him. Eyes like the devil, one black the other yellow, sharp teeth like a beast, a skeletal face where normalcy should have been. There was not one but thousands. Thousands of these awful creatures staring at him from each individual shard. He could feel them staring, he could feel them trying to grab at him. They were insects, insects with words that would crawl into his pores before burrowing into the deepest parts of his flesh.

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"

Het shouted—nay, screamed repeatedly, stomping on the glass fracturing more of what used to be the mirror. He couldn't feel the shards lodging themselves into his feet but even if he didn't he wouldn't care. He could still hear them, he could still see them. They only seemed to grow and multiple, each shard fracturing into several others. A pool of red smeared across the floor, the demons swimming about in the sea of blood in their sharp boats. What once was dozens of voices multiplied as the faces did, hundreds possible thousands swarm about. He hated it, he hated each and everyone that spoke to him, questioning what he did. He didn't need a reason to explain himself, he had no reason to tell those assholes ANYTHING! Why didn't they just leave him alone! Why didn't EVERYONE just leave him alone from the very beginning!? If no one was there he would be fine. If he stopped anyone from getting close this would have never happened, he would have prevented EVERYTHING and it was so simple to do!

"You know there's one way to fix everything"

Het fell to his knees, a singular piece of shattered glass that looked extra jagged catching his eye.

"Go ahead... Do it"

He picked it up, blood already coated the edges.

"What's a little bit more?"

He looked down to his wrists.

"One more cut, one more slice in a more... Vital area"

His mouth felt dry. He couldn't argue, he couldn't say anything back. It was right, they were all right.

"If you know what's good for everyone"

The world would be a better place without him, one less hideous pyscho.

"Oswald would be better off without you"

The words hit him like a truck, the whisper's finally getting to him. All at once reality came to a halt, his senses returning to him and his surroundings falling back into view. He was bleeding profusely, his legs and paws drenched in his own fluids as dwelled in the basement of his worst enemy.

Slowly he stood up. The gravely scrape of his voice now replaced with a raspy laughter. He held his belly and threw his head back, it wasn't funny. It was downright HILARIOUS

"HAHAHA!" He wiped his eye that leaked tears down his face, flinging the water on the floor "Oh god...your right...your so right!" He proclaimed proudly, tossing away the shard and pacing once more "that's exactly why I'm NOT gonna do that!" He removed his tail and curved it into a hook, pulling over his yellow sack to rummage about "Why the hell would I slit my wrists and die down in some dingy basement!? I still got a whole lotta work to get done!—I mean, the irony of me killing myself while that poor unlucky fuck up there can't is funny, but me kicking the bucket would bring him too much satisfaction, I couldn’t do that, Oh god, how can I ever repay ya for reminding me?"

"..."

Het looked around, nobody there to accompany him. He was alone. Absolutely and utterly alone, down in a basement completely in the dark. He was always alone to begin with.

"Oh yeah... Ain't nobody down here but me" he rubbed his chin and looked down at the puddle, taking note how his legs started to tingle "mmm... Gonna assume that's the blood loss"

Deciding he didn't want his abode for the foreseeable future to be a complete mess, Het began to clean up. Honestly, he didn't even remember what he did. The last handful of minutes were a blur—was it even a handful of minutes? Could have been just a singular minute, could have been an hour, he didn't know. There was no real way to judge time, that would probably be one of the things he needed. A clock, some cleaning supplies, maybe some furniture too considering he had nothing to sit on but boxes of junk he didn't really care to dig through at the moment. For now though he could at least use his bag of tricks to tidy up, retrieving some tools from the bag he sweeped up the glass and then mopped the blood into one side of the basement. He had no way of actually cleaning up the blood but he decided to just leave it, one way or another the room would stink of iron due to his plans so he, might as well start now. Speaking of starting, he figured it was best to start patching himself up before he suddenly passed out from blood loss.

"One-two-three-fou–oh no, five" Het counted, yanking each shard from his foot, occasionally one piece fracturing into more "six-seven-eigh–"

DINK

Het's ears flagged up, his eye snapping upwards "the hell's that!?"

DINKDINKDINK

Repeatedly some irritating noise blared, one after another. It was a grating and sounded something familiar, something that bothered him. What bothered him the most was knowing that the only possible sound it could be was that rabbit. That awful, irritating, fuck of a rabbit that had started all this. Just the thought of him made the cat's eye twitch and tail curl, violent thoughts surge through his mind. He'd get up there and strangle that bastard back into unconscious if it meant he could get some peace. He didn't want to sleep, he didn't like too, but the most he could get was some peace and quiet in his own damn—

oh, wait...This wasn't his house....

Whatever! It didn't matter, the second he'd walk up those steps he'd silence that lagomorph and make sure he stays silent!

"That fucker is gonna have a surprise for him when I get up th–"

crunch

"...."

Het looked downwards, the sound catching him off guard—it probably shouldn't have considering he knew what it probably was. And sure enough just as he thought when he heard the noise, he had stepped on each and every piece of glass he had yanked out. More blood seeped out from both new wounds and old ones that were made deeper. He probably had a good 20 minutes before he passed out so that would have to be the number one priority for now as much as it hurt him. It wasn't the glass that hurt him though, it was the non-stop noise from up above. What even was that!? He heard screaming now but it was incoherent and strained, the noises no doubt coming from the rabbit he had the displeasure of ever meeting. For now though? He'd sit and wait, plucking out each shard and imagining how happy it'd make him to shove it down Euthanasia's throat.

Franky moved quietly throughout the maintenance tunnels of the parkour palace. Despite his size he became adept at stealthy traversing about, those unlucky contestants who made it past the starting line got practically nowhere as he'd always be quick to surprise them and slam them into a wall turning them into a red stain. It was this stealth that allowed him to slink through the shadows and witness what the parkour palace was like before each season would begin.

In a lot of ways it was mostly the same. Vibrant bright areas, long expanding corridors, rooms chalk full of trampolines, obstacles, and less than up to code parkour challenges. All that one would expect a "parkour palace" to have was located within the confines of a several story building. Franky often wondered what was this place like when it was teeming with life, adult and child playing about within its walls. When the place was operational Franky only ever was allowed out of the back charging room when the place was closed and all the patrons had left. At least he could still remember what it sounded like when it was busy. The laughing, footsteps, talking of adults, crying of those who accidentally injured themselves. It was chaotic but a sort of entertainment for the rabbit who was always just out of sight, barred from actually witnessing and interacting the way Frankie would with customers. Franky honestly missed being able to hear all those people in the parkour palace. Without them now both the days and nights were filled with an eerie silence, the only real noise that filled the void was the soft buzz of lights, flies that circled the rotted corpses, whirr of fans and buzzsaws. There was also of course—

RING RING RING

—the occasional ringing of Henry's phone.

Franky came to his first stop in his tour around the facility. Back in the Henry Hotline museum, Franky peeked his head around the corner to spot a usually closed off room with the sign "Henry Hotline Live" above it. Inside was the telephone-headed talkshow host himself, Henry unfortunately being forced to answer calls and talk right before each season would start.

RING RING RI—

Henry picked up the phone on his head and spoke into it "Hello and welcome to 'who keeps ringing that phone' with Henry Hotline, I'm your host Henry Hotline, what can I do for you on this *lovely* day caller?"

Franky could tell by the exaggeration on certain words that Henry was going through it. His voice box made it so that everytime he spoke it was gravely and had that static filter over it. While the gameshow ran on the dark web amongst other gruesome live streams, Henry's show was broadcasted to public television and radio stations. This unfortunately meant Henry would be forced to subtly advertise what they couldn't legally. It was a job someone had to do, after all if no one was aware of it no one would donate, it was just plain unfortunate that it had to be Henry though.

["HELLO! I'm glad to be on the air, I was just wondering in the TV show you're always dragged along by Frankie and forced to help him, I'm just wondering do you actually like him? Or is it a thing where you can't get rid of him and are just forced to go along with what he wants?"]

Henry's usual dismissive attitude towards the callers shifted in an instant. By the way even his posture changed Franky could tell the question caught the telephone off guard. A long pause as Henry contemplated the question confirmed this.

"What do I think of Frankie..."

Henry sat up in his seat and looked towards the camera directed at him, or at least Franky assumed so. It was hard to tell with the telephone's pitch black eyes.

"Me and his relationship is... Complicated" Henry crossed his legs and tilted his head, the coil attached to it creaking "I suppose I should start off by saying that whatever you see in those cartoons are the works of fiction, don't try to replicate anything you see on TV in general kids, but... Uhh, to answer your question I suppose it just depends on whi– I mean– When, when does he bother me"

Franky's ears twitched at the verbal misstep. It could have been a genuine mistake in his words but the initial word choice of which had him wondering if the telephone was speaking about more than the dynamic of their cartoon counterparts.

"When he is making me do things I don't wanna do like talking to people I don't want to speak to..." Henry bit back what he truly wanted to say. With a sigh sound coming from his voice box he continued, his words carrying thinly veiled frustration "but at the same time Frankie has... He's been a real friend if I wanna put it generally, I mean sure he ain't perfect and I ain't always thrilled to see him" Henry's voice lowered into a fearful whisper "and he sometimes scares me..." Henry perked back up again "but he's a friend all the same, one that I probably would have gone crazy without having! Like really, do you think the duck is a fun conversationalist? He HATES me! Hahaha! If it was up to him I'm sure I would be locked up where no one would ever see me, and that sure would be a darn shame—wouldn’t it?”

["..."]

Silence. The caller had hung up about halfway through Henry's ramble leaving the telephone alone, talking to himself while he was live on air.

"...this, this is why I don't do long winded answers" Henry mumbled under his non-existent breath.

Franky's ears twitched. Those words were the last thing he expected to hear from Henry but he was glad to hear them. Despite what the past held and how Frankie forced him to hurt the telephone, the fact that Henry didn't hold a grudge allowed him to go along his merry way with that info in tow. It was that bit of info that made the giant rabbit pause upon seeing a poster on the wall. The piece of art held a cartoon depiction of the mascot rabbit as well as the mascot Henry was on the poster with the words "partners in crime" below it. While it was true they were partners in crime, especially considering soon Henry would have to take part in the show, Franky always thought of Henry as a friend and by the words the telephone gave it was apparent Henry thought of him as a friend too. They were friends.

A small hiccup in his little tour was made, before leaving connections Franky decided to commemorate the moment of confirmation between him and Henry's friendship. He took a page out of Henry's book and with the use of the darkned liquid that seeped from a body a few feet away, the rabbit marked the poster with a big "NO" on it. He hoped that after Henry would be finished in his studio he'd see the poster but that would probably not happen considering the telephone was already irritable and probably just wanted to go and rest after dealing with the constant ringing. Franky wasn't going to press the issue and force Henry to view it, he was just going leave the message there as a little reminder of their friendship in the future if he ever passed by it.

With that out of the way Franky decided to check up on the one mascot that wasn't once a human. While it had sentience and even a sense of justice, Deputy Duck was a simple AI that was implanted into a tablet that mimicked the look of the cartoon deputy. Franky and the deputy didn't get along at all, the duck always trying to peck him if he neared, but the rabbit was just going to make sure he was on charge. It was a simple trip, all it took was a shortcut through the vents which Franky had little issues squeezing into. As big as his hands, feet, body, and head were, the vents were big enough where he could slide through them, rather silently at that. One would figure such a large unwieldy creature like him scurrying through the vents would make quite the clatter, the awful noise of metal scraping against metal being inevitable. Instead Franky found a way to drag himself through making minimal noise, only the very subtle thud of his hand as he pulled himself along could be heard. There was something else heard throughout the vents. By the time he was close to the deputy's area he heard something, something that made him cease his movements and hold still.

Like the flies that would swarm around the corpses of those he killed, Franky picked up on a strange buzz. While at first he thought it the fans that would constantly spin to keep the building temperature controlled, he soon realized it wasn't a natural noise in the vents. He had never heard it once when climbing through the air ducts, not to mention it sounded electronic in nature. What caught his attention most of all was the fact that he swore through the garbled noise there was a voice, a very familiar one at that. It sounded kinda like...

Frankie?

He wasted no time in moving upwards, the cause of the sound concerning him. He struggled to think of what could it possibly be, was it just some auditory mishap? His hearing sensors sometimes did prove faulty, the wires connecting to his eardrums were partially frayed so the occasional glitch wasn't out of place. Even with that in mind he doubted that's what was happening though, he knew Frankie's voice anywhere and that certainly sounded like him. Inch by inch his large body crept through the tight space. He made sure to not leave a sound behind as he took every chance he got to peek his head through the vents to check where he would be in the facility. The confusion he faced only got worse upon finding himself in the air ducts right above the room he would lie dormant in when charging. What one could only describe as audio clutter continued to go off as Franky stretched over to look through the small spaces in between the gaps of the metal shutters.

The charging room was dimly lit, all lights powered off say for the multicolored ones from the electricity boxes and servers. Franky didn't require lots of light to see, already accustomed to seeing in dark spaces he managed to make out the bizarre sight of Frankie, standing there fiddling with several wires dangling from the ceiling. The rabbit was leaking an odd substance from the corners of his mouth, the liquid seeping past the wide grin of his. Even in the vents Franky could pick up the oder, a strange chemical mixture between oil and blood which ran through all the mascots made from humans. While he was accustomed to the smell of blood the oil added a strange tinge that made his snout scrunch up. It was awful and Frankie seemed aware of this, as he held charging wires in one hand he desperately tried to stop the tar from leaking out of his maw.

"Stu-pid-pid-pid fuck-ing-ing" Frankie cursed, his voice box clear as day the cause of the glitchy static sound.

click

Frankie shoved the wires into an unseen opening on his back. Sparks flew from where the wires were socketed, illuminating the dark room briefly and allowing him to see that the liquid was not just pouring out of Frankie's mouth but his entire body. From the small eyes embedded into his head all the way to where the springs connected his hands to his body, the mechanical blood oozed out like some sort puss filled pimple that popped. The stench was rank and Franky struggled to hold still. With everything in him he locked himself firmly in place and refused to take his eyes off the malfunctioning mascot.

Frankie was malfunctioning. Right? He knew what he was seeing, the brother of his running like a leaking pipe, it just didn't make sense. He was supposed to be the perfect one. While Franky was always told he was the one filled with flaws and Henry was a slightly improved version the explanation always given that when it came to turning something human into a mascot, Frankie perfected it on himself. He retained all the memories of when he was alive unlike the other lagomorph and the telephone, he could speak without anything interfering with his voice box’s signal, he didn't even need electricity to run. So what was it that Franky was seeing? This person—or rabbit in this case—who was supposed to be the perfect candidate to take over the show once they gathered enough funds was bleeding. Like a paramedic fruitlessly trying to defibrillate a rotting corpse that was left over in the sun, he spewed the liquid from the crevices of his body as enough wattage to power a generator for several days was pumped into him.

What took Franky aback the most was how casual he was about it. The frantic rush to keep all of it inside ceased, Frankie just hunched over and let it casually drip down. The faint bzztt of electricity pulsing through large wires into his back replaced the earlier noise of the broken sound that came from him. It was as if this was a regular occurrence the way Frankie stood up, wiped the fluid off his face, and began to sort through papers. The earlier file the monstrous mascot was barred from seeing was held in his hands. He flipped through each piece of paper hidden within it like one would a newspaper in the morning, leisurely and without a care.

zzipptt!

"Ah, there we are!" Frankie exclaimed, his voice as smooth as butter "glad that's outta my system, hopefully that was all of it" the smiling rabbit looked downwards at what he expelled from his body.

Franky surveyed his brother's eyes, searching for any sort of emotion that'd maybe help figure out what he just witnessed.

"Maybe after this season this little issue will be fixed" Frankie remarked as he briefly glanced up at the vent, unknowingly making eye contact with Franky on the other side.

There was nothing. No emotion. No care. Nothing but indifference to the casual spew of bile from his body. He was acting like this had happened before. Maybe because it did happen before. Franky didn't have any proof it did but just by his mannerisms he knew. He knew and it just confused him. Why would Frankie lie about not needing electricity or being the perfect finalized outcome of the experiments? What would lying gain him? People lied to gain something right? There was no ulterior motive to it, right? In this situation what was there to gain other than the ability to—....

...

...

...

Reputation... What would Frankie gain by lying other than the ability to preserve his reputation... That's what it was, wasn't it?

snap

Frankie snapped his fingers and in ran the small, volatile mysteries that were the Noob Noobs. Little red creatures sporting blue lips and a yellow hat, their bodies capable of self destruction after a specific amount of time or under certain amounts of pressure. These ones he summoned held towels that they used to mop up the puddle of black beneath Frankie's feet before consuming the sopping wet cloth. The Noob Noobs did their task diligently before running back out of the server room—presumably to some far off corner where they would detonate themselves disposing of any evidence. Their life spans comparable to that of a mayfly except they had no other purpose than as obstacles in the games. Obstacles that never went used.

Euthanasia slowly opened his eyes, groaning at the realization he had passed out once more. Turns out putting all of his effort into trying to hurt Het right after waking up had just sent him right back to sleep. Of course sleep wasn't that much of a rest from his current situation either, memories and thoughts of happier times still played out in his head of the moment where everything started to spiral out of control. From the very first moment that he heard the cat's real voice he should of left, he should of ran far away and distanced himself from that freak. He didn't though, instead he stood there and bore witness to what truly hid under that kind smile and cheery demeanor. Just like his real appearance and skull, what lurked behind what used to be "Felix" was nothing short of pure demonic lunacy that not only looked disturbing but was actually disturbed in the head. Now Euthanasia was stuck with that evil, the demonic looking toon lurked in his basement doing god knows what while he had to stand up and just brush it off. He couldn't do jack shit, the cat had leverage over him and if he tried to call the police he'd probably be sent to jail—heck, knowing his luck he'd share a cell with that psycho and his misery would just continue. He was stuck between a jagged rock and a crushing weight and it was times like now that he wished more than anything he could kill himself.

"One more time never hurt anybody–" immediately after gathering his bearings the buck retrieved his gun, pointed it at himself, and pulled the trigger. As per usual the sound he got in return was the click of the gun jamming "–and apparently it never fucking will”

Euthanasia growled and began to make his way to his room, letting his paws drag against the hardwood floor in order to just feel something other than pain. His head hurt, his eyes burned, and the beating he endured still made his entire body sore. He entertained the idea of getting more rest but ultimately couldn't fathom sleeping again, he didn't want to close his eyes and be mocked by the moments of his life which he used to call pleasant. The reminders of what he once held and how it all fell apart hurt more than the several bruises he had that were hidden by his matted black coat. Besides, sleep was also going to be off the table for the fact that he didn't want to sleep anymore than he needed when he shared the house with the crazed lunatic who was now dwelling in his basement. The feline did say he wouldn't kill him in order to prolong his suffering but Euthanasia knew better than to trust empty words or false promises from that bastard. It was true that if Het kill him he'd ultimately achieve what he failed to do repeatedly, but it wasn't the way he wanted to go out. He wanted to take back what was his, the life that was stolen from him by cruel fate and that skull-faced freak, if he was going to die any way it would be by his own hands and not by the hands of someone who caused his current condition.

Euthanasia paused his trek to his room and looked down, something wet under his paws stopping him in his tracks. From the front door, down the hallway lead a dark trail of what he could immediately tell was blood, the iron smell worsening his headache. Just as expected the trail led to the basement door where it suddenly ended, presumably continuing on the other side. A set of stairs descending down awaited him in the basement’s entrance but he dared not open it in order to save him the disgust of whatever the cat was doing down there. The very idea made his skin crawl, he didn't have any way of knowing how long he had been out but he shuddered to think what sort of twisted renovations were made in the time he was out. Knowing Het's psychotic ways there was all but the guarantee down there was also a "guest", an unwilling one at that who would never again see the light of day. It made his stomach churn the thought of murder and he did his best to ignore it as well as the sticky fluid clinging to the underside of his feet, pressing further to his bedroom he took shelter in the safe haven of his. It wasn't really safe as he thought it was considering Het knew how to both break down or simply unlock locked doors, but the lock did at least provide him a false sense of security that he wouldn't have had otherwise. With the door locked he finally felt like he could take a second to breathe after all that happened and collect his thoughts. Thoughts that just so happened to not be the nicest.

When the rabbit went to go add another tally to the many already embedded on his bed's headboard he paused, his eye catching sight of exactly how many times he fucked up. Line after line they were etched into the wood with his claw after every time he tried to end it all only to be stopped by fate. Counting each and everyone he stared at the tallies remembering the exact moment he put them on there, each one told a story of miserable failure and ineptitude that made him feel even more useless. One line he put on there after he failed to drown himself in a lake, the rocks he tried to his feet were pumice making it so that he stayed afloat on the surface the second he jumped in. Another was engraved after the day he tried to slit his own throat with a knife, despite being pristine and newly bought rust had somehow infected the inside of the metal and the second he pressed it to his skin, it shattered like brittle burnt char. One of the more devastating attempts was when he laid on some train tracks and waited for the train to come by, he laid there for hours anticipating the eventual arrival of his release but he never even felt a rumble of what would be his metal savior. After giving up and retreating back home he later found that the train had derailed a couple miles back, no one was severely injured as it wasn't a passenger train but the very idea that attempting to kill himself caused a catastrophe made him break down into tears. It was all the confirmation he needed that he was just a plaything for some supernatural force. Weather god was toying with him or Satan himself placed a curse upon his soul, he knew he was little more than some fool who was destined to endlessly chase after a goal he would never achieve, a Sisyphean struggle that was just a special type of torture crafted for him to keep him away from what he held dear.

"Don't think about it...don't think about it...don't think about it..." He murmured to himself as he quickly marked another one of his failures and looked away.

Euthanasia knew dwelling on his state would just make him feel worse and searched for something that would keep his thoughts clean. Any sort of distraction in order to not face the cruel reality and voices that only told him the truth of his status as a worthless failure. His eye scanned the room, pupil snapping to every little inch and corner in hopes to look for something that would maybe provide some sort of relief. Eventually his eye landed onto the closet and he remembered one little object he kept onto of the past. While most of both his and his dearly departed’s belongings remained locked in the attic, stashed away in the closet laid an item from his glory days, back when he could stand looking at himself in a mirror.

creeeaaakkk

The rusty hinges groaned and sure enough sitting there it awaited him. A small banjo that used to see non-stop use covered in dust lay next to a pile of unwashed blue shorts. Oswald used to love those cyan colored shorts to the point it was the only thing he ever wore and wouldn't be caught dead donning anything else. It allowed him to jump and run with ease while still providing a fashionable look. Toons weren't required to wear clothes by law but he still did so, he found the look iconic and whenever he'd walk away his long ears and shorts would be a clear indicator of who he was because everyone certainly knew his name. All of that belonged to Oswald. Not Euthanasia.

"Hello old friend," the rabbit said as he grabbed the instrument. Holding the banjo in his hands he traced his hand along the wood, the fur on his palm catching the dust and feeling the grain "At least something in this hell survived after these years"

The reunion with his banjo was bittersweet to say the least. As he sat on the bed and tuned it he remembered all the times he'd have an audience to play for and the songs he would sing. The sea of smiling faces that would stare at him each time he performed never failed to liven him up and the applause he'd receive after he finished would be the cherry on top. Distinct memories of surveying the audience just to catch a glimpse of his love sitting down with awe in her eye played about in his head with each turn of the little knob. Now he was playing for the one man audience of himself, not a soul able to witness him pick up a hobby that he had dropped for the sake of prioritizing acting. With a solemn expression Euthanasia gave the banjo a quick strum, finding every string was in proper order he leaned back and began to play a song of old. A song which used to belong to him.

"Lucky" ding "Rabbit" ding "That lucky Oswald Rabbit" ding ding "Nicest rabbit–" ding "–that you ever knew"

Saying what used to be his name felt odd, sure Het still referred to him as such but he couldn't care less what the cat said to him. Actually referring to himself as Oswald tasted like a cake with an ingredient baked in that was several years past due. His lips carried the vague remembrance of what it originally was but it was still a rotten taste on his tongue.

"Lucky" ding "habit" ding "That lucky Oswald Rabbit" ding ding "If you want him here's what you must do"

Hearing words which once inspired humans and toons alike felt like he was reliving something that didn't belong to him, in a way it truly didn't. What would people say if they saw him now, that "lucky Oswald Rabbit" who brought cheer to thousands, now nothing but a walking emotional fiasco.

"Reading, writing, 'rithmatic" ding "may often make you awful sick" ding "but if you learn your lessons quick" ding "just wait 'till you'll be through"

His happiness was dead and buried with the one he felt true love for and it hurt to know maybe, just maybe, if he moved on he could be better. If he somehow just was happy maybe he could get all that he lost, without Ortensia though would any of the fake or attention really be fulfilling?

"Don't be" ding "scrappy" ding "but smile and do things snappy" ding "make folks" ding "happy" ding ding "and you'll be lucky to-"

DINK!

Euthanasia's finger struck a chord and it elicited an awful sound that pained his ears and made his face scrunch up. The entire song was ruined with a single mess up, it was most likely not his fault and just a result of the banjo's neglect in a closet and a single tuning, but in the rabbit's mind it was nothing more than a statement of the obvious. He was simply inept at doing everything, whether it be trying to end himself or simply picking up a forgotten hobby that he was once adept at, no matter what he just failed and failed. He couldn't do anything right and this mess up on the banjo was no different. Euthanasia grit his teeth and continued to play even with his instrument horribly out of tune, the plucking of the string making more wretched sounds which in turn made the new lyrics he made from his own self-loathing created a symphony from his pain.

"Happy" dink "rabbit" dink "that once happy Oswald rabbit" dink dink "doesn't know–" dink "–what to do"

Each stroke of the cords burned his ears to play. What once a cheery song slowly morphed into something unrecognizable.

"Lucky" dink "god damn it!" dink "why can't this luck–" dink dink “–just leave me to do what I want to do!?"

It sounded more and more distorted by the second, the tune drifting farther off what was intended.

"Suicide the final trick" dink "death is what I wish" dink "but because god is a FUCKING prick" dink "I must let my suffering brew!"

His strums got more forceful and the tension on the old strings showed. Somehow they stood strong against the rabbit's harsh movements and instead retaliated, slowly digging into his fingers.

"Just be" dink "happy!" dink "horrible tragedy!" dink "makes me wish for" dink "apathy!" dink dink "instead I'll just shut up and carry through!" SNAP! "Just shut up and carry through!" SNAP! "just shut up and carry through!" SNAP! "WHY WON'T THEY SHUT UP AND LET ME CARRY THROUGH!?"

Oswald anxiously made his way past crowds of people, the live studio audience being dismissed after a show. It was a show he was invited to by his friend, it marked a milestone in Felix's career. The day held something else equally as special for them as well—or rather, their friendship. It had been exactly one year to the day that Oswald had met the wonderful cat, at first both parties were incredibly shy and only talked when their executives wanted them too. After opening up a bit they started talking about things other than work, interests they had, hobbies, what they hopefully one day would accomplish after being popular stars. All that had built into a genuine bond, a bond that was close, probably a lot closer than what should have been acceptable in the day and age. That didn't bother either though, at the end of the day they were friends and nothing stood between them. Which is why Oswald was so surprised when not only did Felix demanded he show up to this show, but to also meet him backstage after it was done. The rabbit always attended his friend's shows whether told to or not, but what alerted him to this being more than serious was the entire demeanor his friend held. Felix simply wasn't himself in that moment, the cheery and playful toon spoke ominously about needing to show him something, serious wasn't a good look on the cat and if actually startled him to see it. He listened though, it felt like he had to listen and see whatever the feline wanted to show him since it seemed to be rather dire.

"Hay Felix!" Oswald called out into the empty gray walls of a hall. Dressing rooms lined the corridor, props, chests, and racks of clothing were also dotted about yet there was not a soul to tend to them. This was a set and a show had just wrapped up, yet not a crew member in sight.

"Keep your voice down!"

Oswald's ears twitched at the sound of his friend's muffled voice shouting at him further down. Immediately running down to where he knew Felix's dressing room, he brought his voice down to a whisper and talked through the door "sorry Felix, um where is everyone if you don't mind me asking?"

"Had them look for a glass hammer for me, ya know just something to keep it just us here"

"Oh well that makes sense" Oswald looked around, still nobody there "... Now why shouldn't I yell again?"

"I think my manager is still around back and I don't want him hearing us, he doesn't know your back here and I don't think he wants you talking to me at all"

"Yeah I can tell" The rabbit crossed his arms and huffed "he pulled me aside a few times and legitimately threatened me if I didn't cut contact with ya, at least my company allows me to be a person"

"Yeah... That's kinda why I wanted you to come here Oz..."

Oswald's ears twitched again, that unnatural, almost urgent, way Felix spoke unnerving him to no end. Taking a step closer to the door he couldn't help but feel it had to be important considering the cat was still in his dressing room and not speaking face to face. The door separated them both and an eerie silence fell over both toons, while Oswald was worried for his friend Felix couldn't help but be worried as well. His worries lied within what he was about to confess, it felt like for so long he had been living his life as someone else and if he really wanted to be friends with someone he would need to be open. No matter how many producers told him to hide it he had to show the rabbit something no audience member of his ever would get to see.

"Oz... We're friends right?"

Oswald raised an eyebrow, the question rather silly to him "I mean... I would hope so? If we were strangers than I have confessed a lot of stuff to someone I don't know"

"Exactly, we've been friends for a year and it feels like I've just kept you in the dark about who I am, you've told me so much about yourself and I- I- I-"

"Breathe, Tommy, don't forget ya need oxygen" Oswald joked, taking on Felix's usual role as the lighthearted jokester.

The joke actually got a quick laugh out of the cat, taking a moment he did as he was told before continuing on "thanks for that Oz, as I was saying though: It hardly feels like you know me and it's unfair in my book"

"Oh come on Felix, I know you don't like talking about yourself" his ears lowered as his mind lingered on the very brief details he was given, passing comments made by the feline being enough to piece that whatever Felix went through it sure wasn't the prettiest "If I made you feel like you need to tell me something I'm sorry... We all got secrets we gotta keep and I'm sure you have a few that I probably don't need to know"

"But that's why I wanna tell ya, it feels like my whole life has been a lie and if I want us to keep talking I gotta be up front about something" Felix clasped his palms together, bother hands being incredibly sweaty as each word that came out his mouth felt heavier on his tongue than the last "if I show off something you won't... Like me any less right?"

"Like you any less? Even if I did like you any less you'd still be my number one" Oswald pressed his hand to the door, feeling the wood beneath his fingertips as he spoke softly "Felix whatever it is you can trust me"

The cat's heart leaped hearing those soft words from the rabbit. For Felix this was more than big, this was giant and he didn't know how to feel. On one hand it felt like a weight was about to be lifted off his shoulders, finally being comfortable enough to admit something made him more than happy. At the same time however his mind filled with worries of what would be the consequences of this. By far the scariest anxiety driven thought he had was that Oswald would hate him for whatever reason, garnering hatred from the one person he had as a friend would break him. Despite this thought and every other negative thought he still had to go through with it, he owed it to Oswald for being there for him after all this time.

"Here goes nothing..." He murmured to himself before becoming audible to the buck once more "Alright Oz one thing at a time... For starters I suppose I should say this, like this here voice? It's far from what I sound like really"

"Ya don't say?" Oswald didn't fully believe it, tapping his foot against the floor he anticipated what this supposed "real" voice sounded like "Mind showing me your truth then?"

"Don'tcha mean hearing my truth?"

Oswald rolled his eyes "Alright smarty pants—mind letting me hear your truth then?"

Felix cleared his throat and pressed his back up against the door, his friend right on the other side waiting for him. Swallowing the ball in his throat the cat began a simple voice exercise he was taught in order to maintain the cheery facade that he used nonstop.

"Felix the cat! The wonderful, wonderful cat! Whenever he gets in a fix he reaches into his bag of tricks!" As he continued his voice slowly lost its charm, growing more raspy "Felix the cat! The wonderful, wonderful cat! You'll laugh so much your sides will ache, your heart will go pitter-pat!" it was far too late to stop as much as he wanted to, with nothing left to lose he ended the exercise speaking in the all natural voice he was born with "when you're watching Felix! The wonderful cat..."

Oswald was dead silent with wide eyes, the voice that came through the door was alien and unfamiliar. It had to be some sort of joke, after all he knew Felix for a year and never once did the feline ever once speak like that. Whatever that was! He knew better than to doubt his friend though, the transition from the jolly tone he was known for to the rough hoarse one was absolutely seamless, trained. As bizarre as it was, he knew deep down it was the truth.

"Felix I-..." Oswald rubbed his head, at a loss for words "why are you telling me this now? I thought... I-... I don't understand? Why have you been using a fake voice to talk to me all this time? I understand on camera or in public but when it's just us..."

"I know! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Felix husked out, no longer bothering to use his fake voice "I just... When I was hired my voice wasn't what they wanted so I was told to hide it, do you think kids would like to follow the adventures of someone who sounds like this!? I sound like a smoker for christ's sake yet this is just how I was born!"

"you were told to just... Not sound like yourself?" Oswald turned his attention away from Felix's voice, focusing more on the absolute baffling ramifications that caused the cat to hide it "That's awful! Felix I'm so sorry you had to deal with that- I mean this in general! You shouldn't have to put up with people wanting you to be someone your not"

Felix let out a sigh of relief, Oswald had taken it better than he expected "thanks Oz but... That's not the only thing I've been hiding"

"Well, can't be as bad as your voice right? What else do you keep under wraps"

"This... This is a lot worse than just my voice actually..." Felix looked down to see his hands, both vigorously shaking like a ship going over waves "to beat around the bush for a bit, I don't exactly look as good as I do on camera... I cover up my face"

"you use make-up?" Oswald scratched his head "That's a lot less of a reveal, just a bit embarrassing for you more than anything—actually I shouldn't be throwing stones in my glass house because I also have used it cover up blemishes on my fur-"

"No, no, not makeup, I mean I genuinely cover up my face... All of it"

Oswald stared at the door blankly wondering what on earth his friend meant. "...what?"

"Listen Oz, why don't I just show you, just–promise me you won't... I dunno... Tell this to anyone else? If this gets out I'm ruined"

"Felix, as my best friend you can count on me to keep whatever this is safe between us..."

Felix awkwardly muttered out "Righty-O" as a response and went quiet.

Not wanting to keep his friend waiting, Felix began to peel off the disguise he wore, it was the very first time he'd be without it since he was hired. The mask he was given was special, catered just for him and his Tooney ways so that when wearing it he would be capable of a variety of expressions otherwise unobtainable. Looking in from the outside one would consider the mask a blessing, not only did it hide his hideous real face but also acted as a sort of prosthetic, substituting his defect. Wearing the face combined with putting on a fake voice took a toll on him, more and more each day he found the toon that looked back at him when he looked in a mirror to be simply not him. He had no regrets, even when hearing the distinct sound of the glue trying to keep it on he pressed on. Using claws to dig into the faux flesh, he tore it clean off prompting the rabbit on the other side of the door to jump at the startling sound. Oswald flinched at the sounds, he was about to open the door to see if his friend was alright when the cat already did it for him.

The door flung open, the silence was filled with the loud creak of the hinges as the rabbit finally saw what Felix really looked like. His eyes traveled all over the cat's face—or rather— the lack thereof, he had no face! It was just an exposed skull holding two eyes with ears attached on top. A hole lay where his nose should be and his teeth were sharp, far beyond the normal fangs cats should have. Whatever was in front of him resembled a walking corpse more than anything and he didn't believe that the same feline he knew for a year was what stood there. Just like when Felix spoke though, Oswald knew better than to doubt it. Despite looking nothing like the toon he knew, the eyes that met his held a familiar sparkle, a shine that gave it away. It was Felix all the same, even in his less than glamorous looking state Felix—his best friend—was standing before him at his most vulnerable.

Felix's bony lower jaw moved as he looked away from Oswald, shame filling him from the buck's gaze "oh god Oz... I'm... I'm so sorry you had to see me–had to see this! Ack!" He face palmed "I don't know why I do such stupid things!"

"No..." Oswald closed the distance and hovered his hand over Felix's cheek "umm... May I uhh..."

Felix looked to see the rabbit wishing to touch him, hesitantly he nodded. It was odd, he really did expect Oswald to run or even vomit from disgust. Instead what he got was the furry hand of his friend caressing the smooth compact bone of his cheek.

"This wasn't because of an accident right? This was just how you were born?" Oswald asked as he continued to feel Felix's "face", the surface cold against his furry fingertips.

"Yeah...it's a deformity" Felix pried his eyes off the floor and looked to see Oswald, the buck also having a shine in his eyes that confused him "you're not disgusted by my ugly mug?"

"Ugly!? You're far from it! You're–"

"Beautiful"

Oswald bit his lip, a Freudian slip a moment away from coming out. Doing his best to steer his mind away from unclean thoughts he thought of the next best thing to say.

"Awesome! I can't believe anyone would wanna cover up something so cool like your face"

Much to Felix's surprise Oswald spoke with sincerity, a wide smile across the buck's face and his cottontail wagging like crazy being a giveaway of the honesty.

"You... You're not just saying that to say that are ya Oz?" Felix asked, a small part of him still unconvinced.

"Felix, if you were ugly I'd call ya ugly, but you're not!" The rabbit held the cat's head and tilted it, wanting to get a look at every inch "how have you lived this long if this if this is what you really look like? You do all your own stunts and I've seen boulders dropped on ya before"

"Bone is surprisingly dense believe it or not, a few doctors did say that mine is a lot more durable than most though, apparently it heals real fast too" Felix couldn't help but laugh as his head was turned every which way, the rabbit's fascination with his appearance was flattering to say the least.

Oswald lightly tugged on the cat's ears as he remarked "And you said this is a deformity? More like a gift if you ask me"

"Well it does have a good deal of medical issues that come with it, for instance I was unconscious when I was born so the people who delivered me presumed I was dead because of me not making any noise and looking like this, apparently they were real close of disposing me until I awoke and started screaming" Felix stared off into space, muttering under his breath a detail that was hard to forget "didn't stop my mother from still trying though..."

Oswald caught what the cat said, his face darkening as he understood the implications "oh dear... I'm sorry everything that's happened to you because you were born like this, you didn't deserve any of that and you sure as heck don't deserve people telling you to hide your face and voice"

"Thanks Oz, if I still had my mask on I'd be as red as a tomato by now"

Oswald finally stopped messing around with his friend's skull, now bringing the cat into a hug he whispered into Felix's ear "I'm glad you showed me this... I know you'll probably continue to wear that mask of yours yet whenever we're in private you can talk how you naturally sound, I wanna hear from Felix from now on, not the cat that appears on television"

Felix hugged back, a gentle rumble coming from his throat "mmm... Will do Oz"

With no more secrets between them, the two toons embraced each other. Oswald soon joined Felix in his purrs, equally content that he knew someone so closely. Sadly all good things had to come to an end, the voice of an irritable man snapped them out of it. His voice getting closer by the second.

"Hey Felix, could you hurry it up? I know this was your big anniversary show and everything but we've been meaning to talk to you about your contract recently... All the demands you've made recently has been putting a lot more work on the crew is needed so some adjustments need to be made"

Felix's ears flagged up at the sound of his manager's voice "shoot! That's him!" Pulling away the cat ushered Oswald away "you better scram Oz"

"Wait, what about your mask? I heard it tear?" Oswald grabbed Felix's hands, stopping the cat from pushing him any further "Isn't your manager gonna be mad you ripped it off?"

"Oh don't worry about it, I can come up with some phony excuse like I tripped and it came off or something, what you need to worry about is getting out!" Felix held his friend's hand and gazed into his eyes, desperation clear on his face "please Oz, the last thing I'd ever want is to see you hurt and I know my manager is a few steps away from doing something to ya, we can talk another time anyhow"

"Mmm..." As much as Oswald wanted to stay and maybe try and help Felix with his entire face situation he relented. Letting out a sigh he gave a nod "if you say you'll be fine then I trust you"

"Thanks Oz" Usually he'd give Oswald a kiss on the nose as a way to say goodbye although he quickly realized he was incapable of doing that without his lips. Making do with what he was capable of, the cat pressed his teeth up against the rabbit's snout and purred "catch you later cottontail"

"Talk to you—hopefully—soon Tommy, I'll be praying all goes well at this meeting you're going too" Oswald kissed the hole where Felix's nose should have been and ran off, not wishing to be caught.

Euthanasia slowly opened his eye, his sight landing on the familiar textured popcorn ceiling of his house. No words left his mouth, instead a groan being his natural reaction to waking up with a headache that felt like someone dug a screwdriver into his head. He didn't know what happened the night before, everything was a haze with the only thing he remembered was wandering out in a depressive episode hoping he could die. By the fact that he had his eye open obviously that hope had fallen through, but what puzzled him most was what the hell happened after he wandered into the forest. He had a headache so that was one clue, his body ached and felt sore as well so that was another. The only thing that came to mind was he blew the last bit of money he had on some beer and got blackout drunk, that would explain the headache and if he made the 5 mile walk to and from town it would explain why his body hurt so damn bad.

"Fuck my life..." Euthanasia put a hand on his face, feeling something flaky immediately made him recoil and take a look.

There on the black fur of his palm, snagged by the hairs, was dark red—nearly black—blood. It was dried so the bleeding had stopped but the sight of the blood made him recall everything instantaneously. The dead tree he stumbled upon, hearing Het approach him, getting the absolute shit kicked out of him, and the worst part was him remembering how he shot the cat square in the head. How could he ever forget that? The lifeless eye of the feline as it stared at him, the final moments of the thing that ruined him. As he remembered the mental image got more and more etched into his brain by the second, the gravity of what he had done fully came down on him. He was trembling and was unsure what to do with the sudden realization that he killed someone when all his worries vanished in an instant, an all too familiar voice and face stepping around a corner to greet him.

"Wakey, wakey, sleepin' beauty"

His blood ran cold, that voice immediately making him sit up and see the skull-faced cat standing there. Two bandaids covered the hole where the bullet passed through Het's forehead, arranged in an X formation hiding the wound, a few small cracks that stemmed from the bullet were also visible but other than Het looked fine. By his tone he was fine. Confusion passed over Euthanasia, he was at a loss as to why the feline was alive and walking, or at least he was at first. The fog from waking up faded and he suddenly remembered one key detail about Het that he had forgotten in the moment of it all and even forgot currently. Due to the same deformity that messed up his face his brains, as well as every other vital organ, was held in his chest in one compact area.

Seeing the puzzled expression Euthanasia had, Het walked over. His tail swayed behind him and he bent down to get face to face with the rabbit "sleep well Oz?" he rhetorically asked.

Euthanasia stayed silent as he slowly reached into his overalls, ready to pull out his gun for a round 2.

Het noticed this immediately, using his tail he stretched it out and reached for his bloody yellow bag. Reeling the bag in, he opened it and pulled out the very gun Euthanasia sought, dangling it before the buck he continued with his cheery demeanor "Looking for something?"

Euthanasia snatched the gun from him without missing a beat, his mind racing while he tried to check if he had any ammunition left in the chambers or if he had some spare bullets tucked away in his pants.

As if reading the buck's mind Het leaned in "there's bullets already in there, here lemme help ya-"

With direct eye contact being made the black cat used his pointer finger to cock back the hammer, the noise echoing throughout the dusty room. Taking it a step further, Het corrected the gun's positioning, lowering it to his chest. The area where not only his heart but the rest of his entire being was held. Although silent, the message was clear: he wanted Euthanasia to pull the trigger. For a second the rabbit did consider it, after all if Euthanasia fired no one would miss the cat and in fact the world would be a better place without Het in it. Despite this he couldn't do it, no matter how logical or good of a choice it seemed he couldn't bring himself to end someone’s life, the memory of when he thought he did replayed. That blank stare what he assumed was a corpse gave him was a whole lot more unnerving than the skull-faced feline himself.

Slowly lowering the gun Euthanasia rubbed his face, letting out a quiet curse at himself for his inability to take another’s life "oh fuck me..."

"Yup! That's what I thought! " Het chuckled "heh, only one of us is a killer Oz, let's keep it that way, capiche?”

Standing up, the cat turned tail and sauntered over to a window, gazing outside he began to totally ignore his old friend on the floor. The sun was high in the sky, clouds blocked any actual sunlight from getting through though. Instead shadows and murky gray shade was cast over the lush green fields, the light dulling everything making what would be a beautiful country landscape turn into a bleak depressing space.

Clacking his fingers against the windowsill the cat couldn't help himself, making a joke the second he thought of one ”Sheesh! I always heard the grass was always greener on the other side of the fence but looking at it now I gotta say how wrong those people—”

"Why the FUCK are you in my house!?" Euthanasia interrupted out as he got to his feet, the grip on his gun tightening "you know damn well you aren't welcome here"

"Yeah and I also ain't welcome in Greece, Scotland, the Caribbeans, Russia, and 42 of the 50 states, that doesn't mean I CAN'T go in 'em, it's just harder now"

Euthanasia scowled over at the cat, he didn't even have the dignity to turn around and face him. Instead Het just kept staring out into the space that the rabbit would call his yard.

"Felix…” Euthanasia started “I'm only gonna tell you this once, get ou—"

"That's what she said" Het finally spun around meeting the buck’s gaze, snickers slipping through his teeth as he laughed at his own joke "...get it? 'its just harder now', heh, don't tell me you don't find that a lil’ funny right?"

"...."

Euthanasia stared at the cat, his scowl turning into a blank expression as he was left speechless. Looking down at the gun and back at Het he contemplated for a solid second actually shooting him in the chest and killing him. The idea was tempting more than ever currently and he had to physically restrain himself from putting his finger anywhere near the trigger else the ideas would become a reality. There were no words to describe just how pissed he was behind his neutral expression, the fact that he saved face at all was a miracle. He wasn't going to bother though, instead the lagomorph decided to take the high road, once again not wanting to give Het the attention he wanted. He controlled himself and turned around, making his way towards the landline phone in his living room.

Het's ears immediately flagged up and he followed the rabbit "Oz, whaddya doing?"

"Calling the police" Euthanasia said calmly. Grabbing the phone off the hook, the buck was stopped by Het who grabbed his wrist. Immediately Euthanasia froze up and looked at the cat, his other hand balling up into a fist "Felix... If you know what's good for you, let go"

"Pfft, what're you gonna do if I don't? Hit me?"

CRACK!

Bare knuckles came into contact with hard bone. Euthanasia did exactly what Het said, his hand throbbing from the result of hitting someone with such a dense skull. Despite how loud of a noise it made and the fact that hishead jerked violently to the side from the punch, Het unphased. He could have easily retaliated, clawed at the rabbit until he was unrecognizable. He could also just used his tail to fetch his bag of tricks, either beat him to death with that or see if he could find something interesting in it this time around. He didn't though, for all that he was capable of doing instead Het merely closed the space in-between him and the other toon, giving him another chance.

Speaking in a dead tone the cat tightened his grasp and whispered a threat "Do that again and see what happens..."

"..."

Seeing the rabbit silent Het loosened his grasp and spoke with his usual smugness once more "that's what I thou-"

Euthanasia kicked Het in the gut sending the feline to the ground. He was left speechless, although the pain of the kick was practically non-existent he sure as hell needed to breathe as much as anyone and struggled to get some. Whatever air he did have in his lungs slipped out of his bony jaws and nose-hole, the kick to his diaphragm making him gasp for the breaths lost. Looking upwards, Het was met with the sight of Euthanasia's paw being brought down onto his stomach, only worsening the frantic need for air. As he struggled to breathe he couldn't help but stare into the wounded eyes of the rabbit, tears welling up in them as he heard his old friend speak.

"Why..."

Het wheezed, coughing up a response after a second "Hngh... Wh-why what?"

"WHY THE FUCK DID YOU LET ME LIVE!" Euthanasia shouted, his voice reverberating off the walls. "after I shot you, you dragged me all the way back here and for some FUCKING REASON you didn't take the chance to kill me... Why!?" Grasping at his head the rabbit repeated the burning question in his mind, the one that would never leave "Why! Why! Why must you so god damn INSIST ON RUINING EVERYTHING I'VE EVER HAD!? WHAT'S THE FUCKING POINT OF KEEPING ME ALIVE!?"

Finally getting enough air to formulate a sentence Het kicked Euthanasia's leg, the appendage detaching sending the buck off balance. Euthanasia hit the floor and looked to see Het standing up, the cat's tone darker than usual.

"Well Oz you ever kill a sleeping man?" The cat glared down at him as he dusted himself off, the rhetorical being a segway to one off his own disturbing anecdotes "I'll tell you now it ain't as fun as killing somebody awake, even if you take the effort to strangle them which will wake them up it simply ain't as satisfying!" Het gripped the air, reliving a past kill as he spoke "once they feel your hands on their throat and awake it's pretty much set in stone their fate as long as you ain't some flimsy noodle armed bitch, now sure they punch, claw, do everything in their power to get you off but after a bit that all stops! Once they realize you ain't gonna stop that's when they'll get desperate, they start grasping at their own neck focusing on prying your hands off while they oh so desperately cry out and give pathetic little noises that barely count as an apology—BUT WE ALL FUCKING KNOW THEY WOULDN'T BE APOLOGIZING IF THEY WEREN'T GETTING STRANGLED—yet they still try and try! Hoping to appeal to empathy that was cut out long ago. Thankfully they can't spew that 'oh please I'm sorry' bullshit for long because you got your fingers on their windpipes and by the time their eyes are closing ITS TOO FRIGGIN' LATE FOR THAT BECAUSE THEIR FUCKING DEAD LIKE THE PATHETIC PIECES OF SHIT THEY ARE!" Het's mind fell back to earth as he finally stopped, Euthanasia's disturbed gaze making him give a quick chuckle "heh... Sorry about that Oz, but uhh–you get the point though, right? Killing you in your sleep wouldn't of been fun, I had to let you wake up”

Euthanasia said the first thing that came to his mind, a rather acute observation: "You're a sick fuck! Jesus fucking Christ!"

"Yeah, tell me something I don't know" Het rolled his eye and offered his hand to the rabbit "the other reason I didn't kill ya is because I'm gonna be crashing here for a bit... Actually, probably longer than a bit.... awhile?"

"What!?" Euthanasia jumped to his feet, smacking away Het's hand as he got in the cat's face "what the fuck do you mean by that!?"

"Awhile ya know? Because when somebody says their gonna do something for a bit it means a short amount of undisclosed time, yet when someone says they're gonna do something for awhile it usually means a undisclosed amount of time that's a lit longer than what someone would call a ‘bit’, also when somebody says their gonna do something for a 'bit' it can also cause confusion so they'll opt for saying they'll be ‘awhile’ because a 'bit' also means a joke, I should of said 'awhile" to avoid all this confusion, my bad"

"..." Euthanasia stood there, baffled by Het's bizarre tangent "wha-... Not that you fucking lunatic, I wanna know what the fuck do you mean you'll be staying here!"

"Oh! That!" The cat snapped his fingers as if he had forgotten he had ever said that "heh, yeah I need a place to stay and I thought what better place than here? Feds won't find me out here since it's pretty much off the grid, oh and don't think about kicking me out either because while you were out I took the liberty of putting your fingerprints all over a few of my tools and toys, it's why I said not to call the police, you turning me in will be basically turning yourself in"

"You..." The rabbit shook as he did his best to swallow his rage. It felt like a vein was about to burst with the way his entire body tensed up and his hands grasped at something to hold and snap "You...You son of a bitch!"

"I'm pretty sure I told you a long time ago she was a bitch so yeah that's a fair stat—"

SLAM!

Het was grabbed by his chest fur and slammed against the wall, the cat didn't wear any clothes so Euthanasia just held him up by his skin, no doubt causing bruising. Het didn't feel a thing though, the most he felt was the cold of the wall he was pinned to and the dust sticking to his fur.

"Woah there! I was talking about my own mother not yours, don'tcha think this is an overreaction?" The feline joked "you didn't even meet her"

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!" Euthanasia pulled Het closer before immediately slamming him back into the wall, shaking him violently as he spewed out question after question, trying to apply reason to what was simply the insane "why do you insist on just making me more miserable!? Haven't you done enough! I'm a washed up toon no one wants to hire and everybody who knew me fucked RIGHT OFF the SECOND I showed any sign of instability! And wanna the worst part!? The part that's oh so FUNNY!? It's the fact that I can't even fucking kill myself because the gun doesn't wanna go off whenever I point it at myself!" The buck's eye twitched as he repeatedly slammed Het into the wall, over and over, doing everything to make sure he got through to the bastard he had the displeasure of ever calling a friend "WHY WON'T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Het initially ignored the rabbit, instead his attention focusing towards the wall he was getting slammed against. He knew the walls of the house were pretty fragile so the fact that he was getting bashed against one repeatedly and it didn't break was a miracle. Was the specific area he was up against one of the supports? That would explain why the entire thing wasn't crumbling. The wall didn't hold his attention long though, after about the 17th time he was hit against it he finally looked back to the rabbit who was beginning to cry. It sickened him, something about the crocodile tears Euthanasia shed whenever he complained about his life made him want to vomit. It was annoying how someone who was a complete jackass all their life could suddenly break and become nothing more than a sniveling pile of self pity.

"Alright I've had enough of this" Het grabbed Euthanasia's wrists, squeezing them until the buck let him go him "If you really want an answer as to why I won't leave it's because I simply find it's what you deserve, everytime you point your gun at yourself I hope just as much as you that it goes off so I won't EVER have to see your face again, why don’tcha look in the mirror next time you wanna know why I treat you like the piece of trash you are because you can count on your sorry fucking existence that as long as I'm around I'll make sure to ruin ANY joy you have!” His pupil thinned and he shoved Euthanasia away “it's called karma fucker”

Het walked past Euthanasia as if he was in the right. The rabbit could hardly believe his ears and the audacity the black cat held, the bastard had some sort of victim complex and still acted as if he was in the right when it was clear as day he was a mentally disturbed psycho! It infuriated the rabbit to no end, how someone so awful can justify the horrible acts they do as nothing more than "karma" to another. The pure hypocrisy and ridiculousness of Het's claim left Euthanasia at a genuine loss for words, he tried to think of anything he could say in response to the bullshit he just heard. He couldn't though, instead all he could do was watch as the feline sauntered away casually, making one last remark before disappearing down the hall.

"I'll be in the basement or yours, I know it's the one place that won't reek of that bitch's scent" Het spat.

Euthanasia snarled, his blood being filled with the rage of someone desecrating his love's name. As much as he wanted to follow after him, hit him so much more, he couldn't muster up the strength to. The temporary adrenaline rush that he had when slamming the cat against the wall wore off leaving his muscles sore once more. For as much disdain as he held he couldn't bother anymore, everything just felt so tiring and he just wanted it to end. It couldn't though, life would continue to keep him alive while placing the reason for his suffering right next to him. With his head still pounding the buck looked upwards, his mind drifting back to when his life wasn't so shit. Back when life had actual meaning to it and it wasn't just one never ending joke with the punchline being his failure.

Euthanasia sat at the edge of his bed, eyes fixed on the ground unable to sleep. Everytime he tried he couldn't help but feel discomforted and be kept awake by a sense of horrid loneliness. Like spiders the feeling crawled up his back and into the barren socket in his head, filling up the vacant skull of his with a coldness. He should have been used to it by now, it had been so many years since everything went down. But It didn't, it never got any easier to cope with the feeling. Back then on similar nights like the one he was facing he'd be comforted and find solace in his wife, her soft fur and gentle purring would pull him to peacefully sleep in her embrace. He'd dream of the days where it would be more than just them, they would have several loving children and they would all continue to live out in the countryside. By then they would probably have enough wealth packed away to support themselves and their kids forever. That day never came though, instead he sat in an empty bed, in an isolated house away, in a barren part of the country. Not even animals strayed into the part of the countryside he made home, people he used to know had long cut contact with, there was absolutely no one else in his life anymore. It was complete and utter loneliness and he was in the dead center of it all.

Glancing at his nightstand he saw the only way out—even then it wasn't as easy as that either. On the nightstand rested a revolver which he tried time and time again to use to end it all, to finally be at peace, to see his wife again. To end the loneliness not and for all. It never worked though, by some cruel curse he just couldn't die. After reaching over and grasping the gun he couldn't help but stare at, rage and contempt boiling within him as he saw it, the firearm served as nothing more than a steel barreled reminder of every failure he ever had. With his grip on the gun there wasn't a moment of hesitation for him, he pressed it to his temple and closed his eyes and pulled down on the trigger.

CLICK

CLICK

CLICK

Like always though nothing shot out, instead he was greeted with the annoying sounds of the hammer slamming back. He didn't even have to stare down the barrel or check the chambers to know the issue. It had jammed, it always jammed. Luck, dumb luck was always the issue and no matter how he did it he was always met with the same end goal. Failure. The gun was little more than something he had grown accustomed to holding, it pained him to keep it around but he could never hear to get rid of it. It didn't belong to him after all.

"I don't know why I expected anything different to happen…it's always the same bullshit” he remarked into the empty room, his words being heard by only him.

With another tally being added to a wall of failed attempts on his headboard Euthanasia walked out his bedroom and into the halls of his house. A place which he used to call home now only brought up bad memories, every breath he took he got a whiff of the musty scent of dust which lined the walls. He never bothered to clean anything since his wife’s passing, he wished to keep it exactly the way it was when she left. When he finally made it to the door he opened it, wandering aimlessly into the crisp autumn night, gun still in hand. Euthanasia didn't really venture outside much. Truth be told he was unsure how long it had been since he felt a breeze pass through his fur and hit his face. Usually he'd remain inside and never bother going out anywhere unless necessary, after all where could he go? Not one of his friends or the few relatives he had bothered to contact him since he spiraled. It was like they hated him, they probably did hate him. Unable to cope after a death he had become a wreck and nobody would want to deal with his emotions, it's why they probably all left, he couldn't even blame them. He was one giant burden and everyone else rightfully discarded him.

He hoped the forest could provide him some solace as the constant looming want for death plagued him, maybe something out there would be able to help answer his call for the end. Just like his entire life though, all he got was cold silence and bleak nothingness in return. Wind whistled past the trees blowing down small bits of twigs and leaves that crunched under his paws. The darkness made it hard to see, outlines of trees stretched for acres with no end in sight. He didn't know how big the forest was, he never explored it thoroughly. For some reason tonight was different though, it had never gotten this bad but for one reason or another unlike all the other nights tonight was particularly miserable for him and he couldn't help but try and go far, far away from his place of residence. Happiness had been a long since distant memory and the bonds he built long ago crumbled and decayed. That was the story of his life really, things got set up, brought him joy, only to rot away never being able to fully enjoy something.

Stopping in the dead center of a clearing a single dead tree stood around the tall evergreens. Euthanasia was unsure what exactly type of tree it was but it was clearly unlike the others. While everything else stood strong and continued to grow during the colder seasons the tree in front of him was withered with white patchy bark, its top branches dropping over. How he envied it, it got the peace and tranquility of the ending while he was stuck like all the other trees, seemingly forever standing being forced to endure the worst of the worst without any break.

It was unfair and cruel, even the plants were capable of the one thing he wasn't, dying. Now as a cruel joke the universe decided to showcase this with the stupid decaying tree before his eye. While others had the pleasure of being able to end their miserable existence at any point he was incapable of doing so, he had the tool in his hands, no doubt the bullet would magically unjam if he pulled the trigger once more, but If it was pointed anywhere near himself the world stopped it. For some reason that he couldn't fathom everything just wanted him to suffer, he tried over and over to die, hanging, cutting, overdose, hell even the cliche of toaster in the bathtub. Somehow still no matter how ensured the death should have been the reaper’s scythe missed. The rope would snap, the blade became remarkably dull, his body purged all the drugs via vomit, the electricity would be cut right as he tossed the toaster in with himself. Like clockwork something stopped him—every—single—FUCKING—attempt! He had become a lifeless dead shell of who he once was, not even being able to bear the name of "Oswald" anymore. That name was reserved for the happy-go-lucky smiling toon star who died long ago leaving only the depressed remnants of a rabbit behind.

Staring down at the gun in his grip he asked the one question that forever plagued him “why… Why me?”

Dim moonlight hit the barrel of Euthanasia's gun forcing him to catch a glimpse at his accursed reflection. His socket bore into him even while lacking an eye, the black hollow void that occasionally leaked blood being one of the biggest reminders for his failure. For a second he just stood there, looking at himself. In absolute marvel at how someone could fall so far. How every bad thing could happen to someone for them to end up where he was. It was far beyond mere bad luck.

CRACK

“Huh?” Euthanasia snapped back to earth, his depressed thoughts being cut short by a sound that rang out through the silence.

Being both a prey animal and having an excellent sense of hearing the plot of one violent toon was stopped by Euthanasia who spotted his advances. A feline with pitch black fur, an exposed skull, sharp fangs, permanent grin and a singular button eye stood behind him. It was the visage of someone born with a horrible disfigurement and an even worse disdain for life. A bad omen, a walking disaster, a quite literal black cat where unluckiness followed like a cloud. Most of all it was someone who started all the misery the rabbit faced. That sadness Euthanasia carried, the grief and utter loneliness that surrounded him, it all was all started by that cat and his negative feelings vanished upon seeing him. The loathing he felt for himself fell onto the toon before him, a horrible rage bubbled and his grip grew tighter on the gun he held, his trigger finger twitching in anticipation.

“Heeeyyy~ Oz” the cat hissed, his voice course and scratchy like gravel “long time no see, miss me?”

BANG

A shot whipped past the cat crashing into a tree next to him, it missed by a hair but he wasn't for a second phased. With a quick glance to his side he saw the smoke rise from the bullet hole and bark fall from the tree, looking back he saw Euthanasia’s arm raised with the gun pointed at him.

“Didn't miss” Euthanasia spat “just making sure the gun wouldn't jam again”

The sound of the hammer being clocked back on the revolver rang out with nothing to mask or cover it. The once sad and depressed demeanor the rabbit carried had been thrown away, nothing but rage and hate being left. Seeing that cat—that stupid permanent smile he had on his face—sent him back to where he didn't want to go. He wanted to forget everything, yet constantly that cat would show up like some sorta grim reminder. A reminder of where exactly he fucked up in his life: befriending that no-good two faced freak.

Seeing the rabbit’s face the cat couldn't help but chuckle “Oh come on Oz, you don't even wanna talk a bit before you turn that gun on me?”

“No” Euthanasia replied bluntly.

The grim feline saw Euthanasia's trigger finger twitched and immediately flung his body to the side. A bullet whizzed past where he stood missing him by an inch, the rabbit was out to kill. This was fine though, just fine. After all, so was he.

“Alright, I see you wanna cut the chit-chat” the cat pulled out a bloodied yellow bag with Xs all over it, reaching into it he tried to grab something that would help him out “Gimme a second and lemme find something that'll end your suffering slowly, Oz”

Euthanasia pulled back the hammer again “don't call me that”

A third bullet was sent flying which was also dodged by the cat who continued to rummage around his bag casually “what? And call you Euthanasia?” He mocked “That name is dumb”

Euthanasia growled and shot once more, his target dodging again “like Het is any better?” he rolled his eye and scoffed “I understand ditching your old name because you constantly gotta get a new identity, but calling yourself Het is fucking moronic”

“I didn't ask to be nicknamed that, those fellas in Russia gave me that name and it kinda just st–” Het dodged another bullet “–could you stop with that!? Can't you see I'm trying to find something to kill you with here?”

“I'll stop when you STOP FUCKING MOVING AND DIE ALREADY!”

The final bullet in the rabbit’s chamber got sent out and Het realized there wasn't really entertaining in his bag of tricks to use on Euthanasia. With the bullet already mid-air time seemed to slow down as he came to the sad and rather boring conclusion he'd have to do the deed by hand. He also realized he'd have to do something to the bullet which was coming right for him. With no time left to really think he swiped at it, the bullet thankfully got hit by his claws deflecting it much to his surprise.

“Huh…” Het looked at his hands, his pointer finger took most of the force with the nail getting broken, blood leaking from the newly exposed fingertip “I didn't expect that to work… ha! Over the years I’ve gotten good at that!”

Euthanasia didn't respond and instead focused on reloading while the cat spoke. He didn't want to give Het the time of day, it wasn't day but still, he didn't wanna pay attention for a moment. Every time Het spoke in his voice—his real voice—it stung to hear. Not only was the voice itself hard on the ears, it sounding like a condescending 40 year smoker, but it also messed with his mind. Back when Euthanasia knew him as simply “Felix” the feline always talked in a high pitched jolly tone, rarely dropping the facade to reveal what he really sounded like. Looking back on it, someone using a nicer sounding voice just for the sake of being friendly definitely was the sign of a lunatic. He should of known better than to ever trust–

“Hay Oz!”

“Huh!?”

Euthanasia looked up, he had finished reloading but it wasn't much use now seeing as Het was suddenly face to face with him. He still nonetheless tried, raising his arm to aim the gun properly only for it to get swiftly smacked away by the cat who proceeded to deck him in the jaw. Euthanasia held his face and groaned, he didn't even have time to try and recover before one of his ears was yanked off by Het. Thanks to toon logic his ear came right off and it didn't hurt at all, in fact he could reattach it, but what did hurt was how the cat proceeded to wail on him. Repeatedly the cat used the buck’s ear like a baton and bludgeoned him, smacking him back and forth across the face with the oddly stiff appendage.

“So this is what people mean when they say they're gonna give someone an earful” Het remarked before hitting Euthanasia in the leg making him fall to the ground “neat!”.

Euthanasia was silent, remaining on his knees. The beating had given him severe whiplash with his brain slamming up against the inside of his skull after each hit, this combined with prior head trauma left him seeing stars. Both metaphorically and physically, a halo of stars floated around his head which he stared at, their spinning only disorienting further. Blood trickled down his nose and mouth, the sight making the feline absolutely giddy.

Dropping the buck’s ear, Het grabbed the halo of stars above Euthanasia's head and smacked him with it, making a smug remark as he did it “Is that really all you got Oz!?” he hit him again, the blow making Euthanasia fall to the floor “I know you're suicidal and you wanna die but come oonnnnnn! You constantly talked big everytime we fought before, what changed this time?”

The cat kicked him while he was down, this act finally making the rabbit come to. While he was getting beat it felt like he had blacked out and now he was waking to his head absolutely throbbing. He could feel the wetness of blood on his upper and lower lip, the distinct penny taste in his mouth also being a giveaway to his bleeding. His vision was blurry, his one functioning eye being barely of use as he looked up to see the sharp smile of the cat. For a second Euthanasia considered giving up, lying there and letting death which he had chased for years finally take him. It had been years and both of them had fought non-stop, constant violence with no resolution. Neither wanted resolution. They wanted the other dead. That would be the solution to their problems, the other in the grave once for all.

Which is why Euthanasia just laid there and let himself get kicked more, each hit sending a sharp pain all over his body. Het’s paw collided with his face, shoulder, or skull over and over, blood coating the underside of his foot. It got harder to see by the second for Euthanasia, his eyelids grew remarkably heavy. He was tired and wondered why he even fought back, he couldn't kill himself so why not let Het take care of that issue for him? After all the cat had full intent on putting him under, all he had to do to die was simply lay there and let him finish the job. He could be with the one he loved more than anything and all he had to do was suffer a miserable and painful death at the hands of the cat, but a death was still a death nonetheless. Nothing stood in-between him and his goal, he could death was in his sights and he was so close.

“fight back! I don't want this to be an execution and it's damn sad seeing you sit there in a puddle of your own blood” Het kicked Euthanasia in the stomach, his tone growing harsh “I wonder what would that whore think seeing you now, sad and alone without her, dying on the ground like a dog”

Actually—there was one thing stopping him, it was the same thing trying to kill him. Het, that damned stupid cat who he hated with every fiber of his being. Hearing the cat mock his dearly departed wife ignited that spark in him once more, that spark that instantly sent all the rage he had aflame. If there was anything in his miserable existence that gave him a reason to carry on it should be to get revenge or bare minimum outlasting the mother fucker who caused him to be in such a state. All the hurt, all the nights he spent alone wallowing in a ditch that he couldn't climb out of, and everytime he tried it felt like it would just cave in on him. All of THAT was caused by Het, so why should he be the one to die!? Just to appease those dumb voices in his head? FUCK THAT! Het should be the one to perish if anything! Not him!

Het raised his foot, ready to bring it down with full intent on doing permanent damage. Then he stopped–something odd making him freeze up. Despite more red than white covering the buck’s face he… laughed? The rabbit who was currently bleeding on the floor after being brutally beaten somehow found humor in the entire thing.

“What's so funny Oz? I heard about knocking sense into someone but I ain't ever hear about the reverse happening”

The question didn't seem to register to the rabbit and kept cackling like a madman, his pupil shrinking into a tiny black dot that swam in a sea of white that was his sclera.

“HAHAHAHA!”

Het was genuinely wondered if he gave the rabbit serious brain damage. Honestly maybe he'd let Euthanasia live if this change was going to be permanent. Not the first time—probably wouldn't be the last—he broke someone's psyche beyond repair.

It wasn't a permanent thing though, Euthanasia quelled his laughing fit and slowly looked up “hahaha… heh… s-sorry, sorry…” meeting Het’s gaze the rabbit spoke with a broken smile “I was just thinking how much better life's gonna be without you in it”

By the time Het registered the words spoken he was already on the floor, Euthanasia lunging at him. Although incapable of feeling any substantial pain that didn't stop him from being blinded, the rabbit was smart enough to use his fingers to jab them into the singular eye he had.

“Son of a!–” Het stumbled back, grasping at his face he tried to wipe away the fluids his eye leaked that clouded his vision. He still kept up his attitude though, chuckling “heh good on ya! You finally are putting up a fight! Instead of laying there like a–”

CLICK

“Uh-oh…”

The cat had froze, the sound of a gun signifying him being in checkmate. He was blinded, didn't know where Euthanasia stood, and had a gun pointed at him. Maybe he could take a random chance and hope to get lucky, perhaps hope to dive out of the bullets trajectory

BANG

“whoops! Talk about a hare trigger amirite!?” Euthanasia joked, the gun in his hands smoking.

The gun went off and although he didn't feel it, Het knew it hit him, he was unsure where, but it definitely hit. He tried his best to recuperate, stand up and wrestle the gun away from the rabbit. Upon standing up he was immediately forced to sit back down, another gunshot rang out and he felt his one leg give way losing all control over it. Karma came back to bite him in the ass, the revolver rapidly fired off and by the time his sight had returned all he could see was euthanasia staring down at him with a smile. The smile of someone who believed they had won..

The rabbit’s smile slowly faded, reality setting in as he looked down to see Het, the cat’s body covered in 5 different bullet wounds. He had shot him before but it was always once in the shoulder or arm, he had never gone this far. He always actively avoided killing him, after all he was better than that psycho and wouldn't stoop to his level. But after he heard Het insult Ortensia it felt like something else came over him and all he saw was red, and it wasn't the coloring of his blood trailing down his face. His hand trembled and he took a step back, unfortunately the last bullet in the chamber soon found its target. The gun truly did have a hair trigger and it went off whilst it was still aimed at the feline, the bullet zipping through the air and hitting him square in the skull.

Het fell forwards, the bullet passing right through the front of his head and out the back. The bullet left cracks around the entry and exit wound, the exposed skull of the feline making disgusting creaks as more cracks formed. With the last bit of strength the cat looked upwards and muttered out the first thing that came to mind.

“Nice shot…”

Slow, long strides were matched with short small steps down the waxed floor of a corridor. The long and spacious hallway was occupied by two different creatures, both of vastly different origins. One was a vicious temperamental killer, this bloodthirsty attitude dwelled within the mascot of the very area they were in, Frankie. Frankie wasn't just any mascot though, although he did represent the place with his imagery plastered just about everywhere, he was also responsible for its closure and current condition. Season after season, he was the sadist responsible for the death of hundreds as he remained undefeated in a twisted game show started by people lusting for money. Countless poor souls tempted by greed stepped inside only to have their dreams crushed by this monstrous rabbit, sometimes it was more than their dreams being crushed. Gutted, squished, decapitated, torn to bits, if you could imagine a gruesome demise there was a good chance Frankie was the one to give it to someone just for the fun of it. Oh god did he have fun with it. He was the star, the namesake of the entire thing with his role being the ruthless monster people tuned in or betted on to end lives. A beast created to kill with not one escaping his springy clutches.

Or at least, he was.

Besides him was the small masked human who was almost a victim to Frankie's bloodlust. Running, jumping, sliding, rail grinding, they did everything in their power to live once they made it to the parkour palace. They had expected to be chased by killer mascots but what they never anticipated was how good it would feel. Although they found themselves winded, scared, with the hairs on their body on edge each time something ran after them, they found it exhilarating. Initially coming for a reason they now looked back on and thought silly, the lucky contestant found something so much better in the twisted show.

It was them living that infuriated Frankie, even looking down at the human they could remember the day the contestant showed up. They were told to wait to kill them and holy fuck was it hard. He had the perfect opportunity to snag them in a vent, he could have so easily shoved their face into the rotating blades of a fan making a fine red mist out of the fragile human. Instead the *other* Frankie gave him specific instructions to keep the contestant alive, to let them go to at least boost ratings a bit before ending them. It was aggravating, it was his show, he shouldn't have had to share it with anyone and he made his opinion quickly apparent by disobeying orders. If that smiley bastard didn't interfere when he wasn't looking he would have succeeded in crushing that pest under his foot too, instead the contestant got by using sheer luck to escape. When that fucking prick showed his face again and tried to help the contestant once more, Frankie was quick to put an end to it. They had reached the end and he—unwillingly—went along with the plan. The contestant was at Hexa-Havoc meaning they werr all his, his to kill, his to rip apart in front of the cameras, it was his right to make them a martyr by displaying their organs across brightly colored hexagons to teach any future contestants what would happen if they dare FUCKED with HIS gameshow!

Instead the reverse happened. He was made a god damn fool in front of over 20,000 people with that audience count only rising each second. Thousands witnessed that costumed weirdo who randomly appeared dash back and forth, dodging him as the timer ticked down. Eventually once the lever lock timer was up the contestant lunged for it, barely any ground to stand on left. From the sky rained the sentient time bombs that were the little noob-noobs and then it was all over. Frankie's life flashed before his eyes, each and every human he killed and the different ways they screamed under their mask embedded into his memory. Their fearful eyes that were once such a delight now mocking him as he descended into a burning inferno that was in the pit of the parkour palace. His transmitted screams rang out from above, the TVs showing the screaming face of a cartoon variant of him as his body began to superheat and melt, and it was all because of that one contestant who had luck on his side. As he watched the contestant get saved from the same fate, them lucky enough to cling onto one of the precariously placed rails above the incinerator, he vowed to not only get his revenge but to take back all that he lost.

And next season, sure enough, he had the chance. It was a surprise to the rabbit but the contestant came back, this time with a whole lot less uncertainty in their actions much to his displeasure. Frankie never did get the chance to enact his revenge, the contestant once more proved to be more than capable of outplaying him. Season after season it repeated, a game with both parties trying to one-up the other and make it so the other would end up losing. Frankie had won for so long that after each loss he felt emotions surface he didn't even know he had, anger, bitterness, hate, it all brewed next to the constant humiliation in front of the audience that once applauded him and screamed his name as he eviscerated all those in his sight. Simultaneously, he also felt something else. Just like the pain he felt upon burning for the first time, the contestant's slowly shifting attitude and actions after the seasons intrigued him as it was all so new. He had plenty of chances to kill the person that proved to be a thorn in his side when off camera, but at the same time he didn't wish to. It was odd but actually trying to win stirred something in him, it was the same feeling the contestant got when being chased. It was a sort of unique thrill they shared with each other, their disdain and hatred slowly changing while the game did too. New obstacles were installed, parts of the parkour palace were renovated, the game was kept fresh with their rivalry enticing people to watch. What started off as a simple game to Frankie and as nothing more than a chance at something else to the contestant became something truly special to the two. Frankie found someone to actually challenge him and the contestant found a new identity as the people's champ. *Lucky* is what they called him, it's what Frankie—both of them—called him. It was something that the contestant embraced and a name Frankie soon found himself thinking about, even when the cameras stopped rolling.

The two came to a halt, both stopping to sit in the dead center of the hallway, neither wanting to go through giant doors with a sign above reading "season finale". No cameras were placed around, just powered off TVs allowing them a small shred of privacy and break. They wouldn't want to be caught dead this close to each other and not in their game of chase, but as it stood neither wished to run. Like the oncoming freeze of winter they both could sense something different in the air, something that neither had a good feeling about. The silence was deafening and both acted out of the norm of their usual circumstances, both predator and prey having a moment of respite.

With a nervous twitch Frankie eventually made the first move, his head turning to look over at a powered off TV mounted on a wall behind him. With less than a thought given he projected his consciousness to it, the much cuter cartoon version of the body he wore manifesting on it drawing Lucky's attention. Unlike the first time they saw the cartoon Frankie on screen, he held no madness in his eyes, instead it was just a somber gaze that shared the sentiment of worry.

["So... This is it huh?"]

Lucky looked downwards, breaking eye contact and nodding "guess so..."

Frankie grimaced, the one on the screen showing emotions whilst his physical body remained in that permanent grin. The silence filled the air once more and it became discomforting, neither wishing to be alone with their thoughts. If there wasn't something to focus on both Frankie and Lucky started to think about what would come next, the thought of after being scarier than the toothy rabbit with a thirst for blood. It was Frankie himself who was scared most by it, quick to speak just to pad time.

["... You think there's a god?"]

Lucky perked up, the question catching them off guard "what?"

["Ya know, god? You believe in one"]

"Uhh... Not really?..." Lucky trailed off and looked at the TV screen, Frankie seemingly wishing for a genuine response which prompted him to continue "I mean... Maybe? I can't say there's definitely not a god but there's no also no proof saying there is...why do you ask?"

["Ehh, I dunno"] Frankie shrugged, his physical body mirroring his movements on screen ["just a thought I suppose, as an AI I really don't think I should have a say on whether a god or not exists, but I know you humans pray to them and I've heard a whole lotta prayers while I–" he made a ripping gesture with his hands ["–ya know?"]

"mmm... Yeah, I hear you" Lucky fiddled with the costume they wore, the fabric sticking to their sweat laced skin underneath "I gotta wonder, do... Do you, uhh... Ever feel bad or anything?" He paused, unsure how to word it without sounding harsh or antagonistic "ya know...for the people you kill?"

["No... Well–not exactly? I mean, I certainly don't feel bad, I just wonder why they risked their lives in the first place?”] Frankie rubbed his chin, the sound his metal finger made making Lucky grimace under the mask ["It just doesn't make"]

"What doesn't make sense?"

["well if the people I kill risk their lives for a measly 5 million then come ooonnn~! They either gotta be a crook, stupid, or suicidal!"] Frankie counted on his fingers each adjective before he rolled his eyes ["I don't care about you humans that much but even I am smart enough to know 5 million dollars isn't going make the average person think they can avoid death where no one else could!"]

"Well, what if they have a family? Being desperate is a reason why a lot of people do things for cash"

["Well that makes even less sense! Why would you attempt to lose your life if you got people relying on you? It'd make more sense to kill someone else before trying to kill yourself for money"] Frankie's spring neck slowly started to extend towards the contestant ["which makes me wonder...]" Now looming over the human, Frankie lowered his face close to Lucky, the smell of rotten flesh still fresh ["which are you?..."]

Lucky squinted their eyes and glared at the rabbit, unphased by the familiar smell and sight "what are you getting at?"

["Well it's just you don't take ANY of the money!"] Frankie's head snapped back to its original position, bobbing ever so slightly on its spring ["If you had a family to feed you'd take it without a second thought and leave, if you were suicidal you'd just let me kill you, that just leaves you either being some criminal on the run with this being your only safety, or plain stupid"]

Lucky chuckled and gave a dismissive wave "heh, well I know I'm stupid for staying but as for why I found this place in the first place?..." They looked towards the big door awaiting them both, it's presence making any humor vanish "... It really was because I couldn't think of any better way to go out, after all dying live in front of thousands is a whole lot better than tying a noose around my neck"

["So why is it that you ran? Why didn't you just let me kill you, I don't know if you could tell but I wasn't really keen on listening to the asshole watching the cameras"]

"Yeah... I could tell real fast you didn't care if I made it to the end..." Lucky grumbled before registering the question. With a small bit of thought they answered, their voice cracking from a small bit of uncertainty in their own words "I suppose it was just instinct? I did think the money would be nice but I didn't really think I'd last long... When I heard about–" the gestured to the surroundings "–this I watched a few clips online to see what exactly I was getting into, upon finding out barely anybody made it past the lobby let alone the first obstacle course I just said fuck it, blew a few grand on your crap cereal, and when I actually got here I got ready to die..."

Frankie's ears twitched, by his cartoon version's face filled with intrigue ["...And then?"]

Lucky took a second to recuperate their scattered thoughts. The fear they felt, the hopeless knowledge of what would happen when they walked in through those doors and put on the suit was still so fresh even after years. With a sigh they began to speak again, their words holding the same confidence that grew in them overtime.

"I found it... Fun" they met Frankie's gaze, the blue lights of the rabbit's eyes a lot easier to look at than the headache inducing fluorescent lights above "I know I'm crazy but when you were chasing me it felt like I actually had a purpose, obviously my body just wanted to not die, basic science behind survival and all that, but after the initial fear started to fade and I could begin to think clearly I wanted more, it's why I kept going, it's why I didn't stop and give up, it's why I kept trying to get to the end and managing to outrun you"

["Atatata!"] Frankie sputtered ["let's get the story straight here, I "LET you live, reminder that the other called me back when I was so capable of killing you"]

"Oh of course, it's not like after when Henry was close to killing me you just couldn't let your fragile ego be broken so you tried to catch me when he was attempting to kill me as well" Lucky stood up, a snort was given as they recounted the past "oh! Oh! Can't forget 'STOP MESSING UP MY FUCKING GAMESHOW!' can we!?"

Frankie sat back, watching the human he could so easily crush begin to laugh. Way back when if anyone dared to mock him in such a way he would be quick to put them in their place, not even the other wouldn't be safe if they acted in such a manner. Frankie couldn't help but feel different when Lucky did it, like he actually liked getting mocked? It was strange, but it was sort of nice knowing his little outburst was memorable, that Lucky still recalled their first interaction. It gave him a sense of nostalgia that he had never had before.

["... You know, I actually liked it when you ran"]

Lucky's laughter was cut short, the words making him sputter and cough "CUGH! ugh! Wh-what!?"

Frankie covered his mouth and snickered ["I said: I actually liked it when you ran"] he shrugged ["you're the first little fucker who ever gave me a run for my money, well— I guess the company's money, but my point still stands, you were the first to make the game a bit more interesting and made me think about actually winning rather than just coming up with new execution strategies"]

"Ahh yes, I'm sooooo~ grateful I made you think about killing me rather than coming up with whatever sick shit you thought about before"

["You should be, you should also be grateful I never caught you because if I did I would of found out real fast if my springs were durable enough to be used as guillotine"] Frankie flicked the spring that acted as his arm ["there's a good chance they would of just painfully dug into your skin and strangled you, but I believe anything can be used to cut if you try hard enough"]

As grim as it sounded, and as genuine of a threat as it was, both cracked up laughing. It was dark, but to them it was playful. Death was really always how they played, it was the foundation of what they built and what kept their interactions interesting. As the time ticked by, and the laughter subsided, both knew the borrowed time they ran on had to be given back. If they spent too long out of the camera's view they knew the other would creep in with a camera to catch their bonding moment. Both would rather be caught dead than having the audience know of them. It was a bit more than fondness of course, although neither wanted to admit it. Instead they looked towards the glaring pink elephant in the room. A pressing issue that only grew more pressing by the moment, the one that spurred them to stop and talk in the first place, the aforementioned end. It was a bitter truth neither wanted to face, but an unavoidable one that Frankie spoke about, the warmth in his voice vanishing.

["... They didn't bother making a new suit for me this time around..."]

Lucky joined the rabbit in his unease "The other one told me already, turns out seeing me win is getting boring" They sighed and began to raise their voice "How could they take it out on you though? Why wouldn't they just kill me instead of replacing you?"

["Hell if I know"] Frankie shrugged and got to his feet, with a huff he shook his head ["that fake bastard nearly got scrapped by the higher-ups and he barely gets a say in how the show goes, my best guess is the reason why they don't just get rid of you is the same reason this entire show started in the first place, humans being the greedy fuckers they are are willing to find the cheapest solution to any problem"] a deep rumbling growl came out from Frankie's physical body, one of the few noises he was capable of making ["hay, maybe you'll find it fun getting chased by whatever new horrifying fuck takes my place, I'm sure the higher-ups will think of something, like maybe a person with a etch-a-sketch for a head"]

Both looked at each other before chuckling. The very idea that anything could replace Frankie and his brutal ways was hilarious. After all, what would this show be without Frankie? Sure Deputy Duck and Henry were there, but Deputy Duck wasn't really an obstacle and Henry could be easily avoided if you didn't irritate him with his telephones. The show was centered around the rabbit mascot, it was named Finding Frankie. Without Frankie it wouldn't be the same no matter what and with the way the rabbit spoke about the future off-put Lucky. It caught him off guard"

"Heh... What uhh... What makes you assume you'll lose?"

["Hmm?"] Frankie's head twisted to look down at Lucky, his ears twitching as he wondered if he heard correctly ["what? Do you really think I'll win this time around?"] He scoffed ["you've been beating me since you first got here, why is this season gonna be any different? We'll do Hexa-Havoc, you'll beat me, I'll fall, you'll catch the rail, collect the money and keep playing, it always ends like that no matter what"]

"You don't know that" Lucky said quickly.

Looking back down from where they came from, the whirr of buzzsaws that were dangerously close to their being made Lucky think about just how close they were to death. They were still close to death, but they didn't fear it. Not now at least.

"Can't be flawless always right? I was bound to slip up eventually... Make a wrong step, maybe trip... It'd be so easy for me to just make one simple mistake and fall..."

Frankie glared at Lucky and crouched down to face him, even his cartoon version had its face zoomed in on to accentuate its attitude ["what are you saying?"]

"Nothing, nothing at all" Lucky began to walk forward, the sounds of their footsteps echoing off the walls "just that maybe this will be the time you actually get me"

Frankie's face dropped hearing the human's words. Although they didn't say it outright, he knew what they were insinuating. The talk about death, not having purpose and the inevitable end made it all too clear the message. He didn't expect for the human to try and sacrifice themselves, and as much as he would have loved to continue owning the show, he didn't want to. Never once would he expect a human of all things to pity him and he was quick to make his opinion known. He couldn't let Lucky give up, it didn't feel right to them and it certainly didn't feel right to be without them.

["You hold the fuck up!"] He snatched up the human, making sure not to crush them in his metal grasp but still make sure they couldn't squirm out ["You can't just lose on purpose!"]

"Who says I was gonna loseon purpose?"

["YOU WERE IMPLYING IT!"] Frankie stamped his foot on the ground, the cartoon version getting sudden flames in his eyes ["I'd rather be awake and have some fuck-head mechanics the company send dismantle me bit by bit than just let you throw away your spot in the show"]

"I DON'T WANT A SPOT IN THIS FUCKED UP SHOW!" Lucky felt themselves tear up under the mask, the material underneath becoming damp "the reason why I never took the money is because I never wanted it! I want to continue running! Continue playing, but it won't be the same without you!" They choked on a sob, their voice cracking as they pressed a hand to their pulsing heart "I won't be able to continue if you don't come back..."

Frankie didn't have a heart but those words pained his virtual feelings all the same. His grip faltered and Lucky dropped to the ground. The human turned away and removed their mask, beginning to wipe their tears off their unseen face. Whenever the rabbit saw any other cry he'd laugh, mock their pain before biting their head off. Instead he found himself also tearing up, or at least the virtual display which was a true depiction of how he felt. With a quick wipe of his own tears—his physical body wiping nothing—he placed his giant hand on Lucky's shoulder, the size difference would be comical in any circumstance other than the one they found themselves in.

["I don't think I'll be able to continue without you either..."] Frankie grumbled, trying his best to hold back any more emotions as he pulled away ["as much as it sucks, It's just how things gotta be..."]

Lucky sniffled and swallowed a ball of spit that built in their throat "I guess so..." They looked downwards at the mask in their hand, it felt more familiar than their real face "if... If this is the last time we see each other, than I guess I won't lose anything letting you see what I always hid"

Frankie's eyes widened as Lucky began to turn around ["ATATA! NO! NO!" He twirled his torso around, his feet staying in the same place as his springs twisted to make him face away [“keep the mask on! I don't wanna see it!"]

"..." Lucky raised an eyebrow before slowly placing the mask back on "you don't wanna see my face?"

["see your face!? Why the hell would I wanna see that!"] Frankie crossed his arms and let himself snap back around after he heard Lucky's mask be fastened ["If I never see your face I get to know that I look better than you"] he said with a smug grin as he adjusted his bowtie.

"Really?" Lucky snorted and placed a hand on the hip "I think it's safe to say there's not a deformity, defect, or skin condition that could make me look worse than you, and I ain't talking about what's actually standing here”

Frankie flinched back, his ears sagged as he looked at his cartoon appearance which he prided himself on ["wow... You REALLY know how to push my buttons don'tcha?"]

"It's what throws you off your game, makes ya sloppy during chases"

["Oh! Well, ain't you just a lovely cheating cunt!"] Frankie chuckled and let his neck drop his head, with a face that was now upside down he let out another growl and stared down Lucky ["let's not do that this time, capiche? I want a good clean game, none of your little cheating and riling me up, no goofing off or not taking it seriously, and certainly no going easy on me so you can fulfill a death wish"]

"Rules go two ways Frankie, I know for a doubt sometimes you don't run as fast as you could when chasing me, why don't you show everyone why it's called Finding Frankie instead of being just a sore loser"

Lucky pressed one of his gloved fingers to Frankie's nose. Much to their surprise a distinct robotic voice line came from his body, a giddly little chuckle that rang out to both their shock. Lucky couldn't believe such a thing was built into the toothy monster and Frankie didn't think anyone would find out.

["Oh.... Okay!"] His head slingshotted back to its original position and he began to march off ["I'm gonna have so much FUN killing you!"]

"not if I send your sorry ass into the fire!" Lucky yelled after them.

"hay moron! Look at the screen!"

Lucky looked upwards, he usually looked at the rabbit themselves rather than the avatar they used to speak. Although their body was out of sight, their cartoon appearance could more than aptly send a message. With his little rabbit toon body bouncing, Frankie made a cranking gesture with one hand as the other slowly flipped them the bird. Once the gesture was fully given Frankie gave a mock face of shock before vanishing.

Lucky quickly yelled back down the hallway "FUCK YOU TOO! GET READY TO EAT SHIT DUMBASS!"

With their respective taunts spurring them on, both raced to the arena. Lucky wasted no time in kicking down the doors to the season finale and sprinting down the familiar corridor to the final game, Hexa-Havoc. It was a path they had walked before, but never once ran. Just as the show was about to change, so did their attitude towards everything, no longer somber, they eagerly jumped down onto the colorful hexagons to get into the ring. With an unseen smile on their face they witnessed Frankie join them, hurling himself into the ring with a lunge intent on already killing. It was a game they had played countless times, the showrunners incapable of thinking anything more climatic. It was fine, it just meant they had seasons worth of experience to play to the best of their abilities.

And played they did.

Methodical, careful, deliberate in each and every movement they moved. What once was a sloppy frantic chase with falling platforms became a graceful rehearsed dance of two parties in a game with the odds stacked against both. Lucky and Frankie both made it apparent they weren't going easy, Lucky was careful to jump on every other platform conserving as much space as possible within each level. Frankie's jumps which were once used to merely catch up were now used to eliminate and were made with deadly accuracy. Each time the giant rabbit hopped up Lucky had to slide away else they'd be as flat as the platforms they ran on. It was refreshing and even with the intial diminishing views the sheer skill both displayed began to attract new watchers. Numbers rose as the time fell, more and more people tuned in to see what was once a chase become something so much more. The chat, unseen to both, exploded with new people wondering if this was the constant quality, meanwhile old viewers were astonished at how both acted. It was something they had never seen from either, old and new watchers alike were left starstruck as they witnessed time the climax to the show they mindlessly tuned into on the dark web.

["our show just reached a world record for death shows across the world! It's at a million views!"] The other Frankie yelled over the intercom ["the lever is now unlocked! With this many viewers the prize money may QUADRU–"]

SSSSKKKSSSTTT

Frankie hacked both the intercom and televisions scattered around the arena. His cartoon appearance held a familiar flame in his eyes but unlike the past it held no rage or crazed desire for death. Instead his gaze fixated on Lucky and the way they ran. The human locked eyes with the screen and knew it was a fire of passion.

["SHUT IT DIPSHIT! THIS IS OUR SHOW! WE SAY WHEN IT ENDS!"]

Wait—Our show?

It didn't matter if Lucky heard correctly or not, the show carried on with both not even finishing with the second level of platforms. Lucky didn't even give the noob-noob release a glance, instead their attention was given in full to Frankie and their reaching hands. The rabbit repeatedly swiped as they marched towards what they once considered a victim. Now with both near the end, their fates currently uncertain, they felt that same something that only Lucky managed to give them. When he finally managed to corner them only to be met with them slipping between his legs and keep running did he have a rough idea of what it was. It was a feeling Lucky too shared, it was one that made their blood pump and heart pound louder than any scream that could be given by the million people cheering them both on at once. Some of the viewers wanted Lucky to die, finally have the champ meet his end and descend down into hell, meanwhile some rooted for the fragile human to best the monstrous rabbit that was responsible for murdering a large portion of people. Neither really cared what the audience wanted, both were having the time of their life and it only got better once 0 platforms remained on the second level.

Down to the third and final level, both could barely feel the heat looming below as they continued. Even if machine, Frankie's body started to overheat in the same manner Lucky's began to exhaust. Movements became a lot less graceful as they became literally one step closer to the end each moment. Raw and tired, Frankie stopped jumping and instead focused solely on grabbing and Lucky stopped sliding, it was too damn effort and with no safety net it was too damn dangerous. The desperate huff of a masked individual and the creak of mechanical rabbit's joints replaced the dubstep track that played during the finale. The soundtrack wasn't intended to be played this long, but considering Frankie and Lucky never intended to feel such deep things about each other it was safe to say life was full of surprises. It certainly was a surprise to both how much they thoroughly enjoyed it. Each step ignited past memories of doing this very thing, only with a lot less of a rush this time around. It was these memories that flashed before them as the game eventually came to a complete stop. The show reached its peak with both Lucky and Frankie on their final platform, both had given it their all yet it didn't change their fate.

["Game over... Goodbye, Lucky"]

Lucky was left speechless as he looked to see Frankie on the screen shed a tear through grit teeth. Just like their very first encounter and subsequent encounters they fell down into the incinerator below. Useless merchandise, bits of garbage, and the old clothes and remains of past contestants were piled around the hellish flames that were at the center of the parkour palace. The smell of burnt flesh filled Lucky's nostrils, the past 3 contestants who didn't make it as far as him invading his senses. Frankie knew this was his end and couldn't accept anything less than what he got. Initially wishing for nothing more than to remain the top dog who racked up views as they killed Frankie was happy he was dethroned. Not only happy but overjoyed he could play with his lucky little contestant one last time before he would die. The grind rail couldn't support his weight and from past attempts trying to claw out only extended the pain, it was futile but he was okay with it. The smile on his body's face would be genuine as he watched his contestant above grab onto the rail. Saving themselves just as they had saved themselves countless times before.

Only this time they didn't.

In a shocking display that made chat and the other watching erupt into screams Lucky actually missed the railing. They themselves didn't know if it was on purpose, after all just as they said you can't go so many seasons and not make a misplay. But was it really a misplay? They meant it when they said they wouldn't be able to go on with Frankie, but would it really mean they would accept death with him? They didn't know. All that they did know was that no end could have been better.

Even with Frankie holding them against his metal body, the flames only making it hotter, they didn't regret a second. No screams were made as they gazed into each other's eyes, Frankie's bright blue piercing the surrounding red and staring deep into the masked covered one's of Lucky's. Metal melded into flesh that was seared black, the pain of which would make any scream out or writhe in pain. Instead Lucky just kept their vision focused forward towards Frankie, the rabbit doing the same as he fought with his circuits which wanted to shut off. It hurt, it hurt like hell, but it would pale in comparison for either to live another second without seeing the other. Memories of all the fun they had, even if it was built in the foundation of death, were looked down upon fondly as the end came by the millisecond. Tears which were almost immediately evaporated tried to roll down burnt flesh, and if he was capable Frankie would return the human gesture if not limited by his metallic body. The rabbit's tears were in the same vein as the human's, he wasn't sad but rather was overjoyed he wouldn't be alone. He *did* wish for Lucky to survive, move on, continue living without him. But maybe this was their fates. Their true fates. It took so long for both to finally realize what they was truly special and would never again happen, but maybe it was for the best. Hatred that sprouted into fondness, fondness which grew into care, care which bloomed into love was now fully understood by both. Frankie, happy he managed to find such a silly human emotion in his life filled with death and Lucky, grateful they were ironically saved from their depressing life by the very thing that wanted to kill them, closed their eyes. They embraced each other for what would be the first and last time in their lives as the fire covered them, shielding their love from prying eyes. It was an end, but one both could accept. Even as Lucky's brain began to melt they still thought about the name given to them and how each time Frankie called them that—even out of anger—it made their hate race in a way no chase could. It repeated, stuck on loop as their life came to an end.

Lucky

...

"Lucky"

...?

"Lucky!"

...?!

"LUCKY!"

!

Lucky's name being screamed made them jump up and look around at their surroundings, their heart not stopping for a second. It scared the hell out of them and they couldn't understand, what just happened? Their head was pounding, their body was all warm—wait! Weren't they on fire and dying a second ago? No. Of course not, why the heck would they be on fire? The sun was shining down, it was warm, pleasant, like a comforting blanket. Where the hell would fire come from? In fact, where would dying even come from!?

"LUCKY!"

Lucky spun around, their floppy ears instinctively laying flat at the sound of a loud noise "huh!?"

There running through a flower filled meadow was a familiar sight. Robotic prosthetic limbs attached to the body of one small grayish furry rabbit with lop-ears, bowtie, and magician hat. It was Frankie, it was their Frankie.

"THERE YOU ARE!" The rabbit yelled as he wagged his finger at Lucky "where the hell were you! I was looking around for ages, I thought you fucking DIED!"

"Ugh... Sorry" Lucky groaned and pressed a paw to their forehead, the sight of their hand made them flinch for some reason but they shook it off "think I tripped and got knocked out or something... would explain why I feel like I got a whole lotta head trauma"

"Knocked out!?" Frankie repeated, their nose twitching as they inspected the other rabbit "oh god! I– I didn't know! Do you need to stop? Go to the ER?"

"ER!? And let YOU win!?" Lucky scoffed and shoved the other rabbit playfully, a smile playing on their lips "fat chance magic boy, round 2 is starting now!"

Frankie shrugged "eh, if you say you're alright I ain't gonna push the issue" the rabbit tapped his foot against the ground "so, you wanna be the tagger or tagee this time around? Pick the option that WON'T make you accidentally crack your skull open"

"I didn't crack my damn skull open!" Lucky said as they thumped his paw into the dirt. With a low growl they suddenly stopped and began to think of the game they played that had been interrupted by them falling unconscious "hmm... You know, I think I wanna go back to being it"

"Ughhh..." Frankie's limbs extended and limply laid on the ground, his entire body unraveling to express his disdain "you're **ALWAYS** it! That round was the first time I got to be it in forever!"

"Welp, I guess we can just go back home and sleep, you can take the couch or course–"

Frankie stood back up "You're a bitch ya know that?"

"A bitch who's your lover, may I remind you?" Lucky leaned in close, pressing their snout close to Frankie's.

Seeing that stupid smile on Lucky's face made Frankie roll his eyes "fine! You're it!, gimme a 30 second head start this time okay?"

"Fine–" Lucky quickly grabbed the rabbit and pulled him into a kiss.

Frankie's eyes went wide and tensed up, his body slowly melting into Lucky's grasp before realizing what they were doing "wait! No!"

"20 seconds left~"

"You can't fucking do that!" Frankie blushed, his cheek fur magically turning red as per toon rules "you're cheating!"

"19... 18..." They kept counting.

"AH!"

Frankie stumbled away and quickly began to break into a sprint. They would certainly get back at Lucky for the sly move but pushed revenge out of his mind. For now they would appreciate their rabbit partner, even if they were a dirty cheater.

Rain trickled down from the sky as Toon made his way out of a parking lot and into the confines of a small grocery store located on the edge of a very sketchy neighborhood. A sliding glass door opened with a ding to greet him, a loud box fan triggered and the sound of the air blasting him drew the cashier's attention. Burying his attention into the ground, he avoided anyone else like the plague and shuffled past what few prying eyes that would watch him. Cameras looked on overhead and he took a quick glance at them before completely dismissing their presence. Thankfully all but one were inactive, the only camera that was actually on was the one aimed at the checkout to ensure no employees were stealing from the register. The ones placed around the store were mere dummy props intended to deter thieves, the store didn't have the proper funds nor actual care to purchase real cameras to protect goods that would almost definitely disappear in such an impoverished area. With the only other person in the store being isles down and the cashier quickly going back to distracting themselves with their phone, Toon slid into the small cramped cereal section of the store and let his flesh disguise slip to take a breath.

Faux skin melted off into tar black ink and molded itself back in the blink of an eye. With a breath of relief Toon looked in the reflection of a puddle that had formed on the waxy grocery floor from the water dripping off his hoodie. With a grimace he pressed his glove-like hand to his snout and examined what he looked like, or at least what he felt comfortable looking like. It was weird to say the least but unlike the human disguise he wore in public the appearance of his anthropomorphic animal look was something that he didn't *totally* hate looking at. It felt like something he could safely look like and pretend to be without being horribly sick to his stomach, once again he didn't exactly like it but it did its job. Taking a further look at himself, Toon tilted his head and stared at his face to make sure he got everything right, he didn't wish to forget the only face he could stand looking back at him in a reflection.

Long rat snout: check. Fluffy spike-like fur on his cheeks: check. Black stripe running vertical across his eyes and head: check. Black triangle nose: check. Long floppy ears: check. Piecut pupils located in a conjoined eye that also acted like brow: check. It still felt like there was something missing though…

squeak

Toon jumped out of his skin as his big ears picked up the sound of a shopping cart’s wheel roll close. Thankfully jumping out of his skin was just what he wished to happen. In an instant his face shifted into his human form, what once was a weird looking rat-rabbit hybrid now went back to being a normal—if you could call his freakish appearance normal—man. Out of the corner of his eyes he spotted someone looking down the aisle at him, staring for an unknown reason. It made his heart sink and a small voice in his head tried to make him panic. The idea someone saw him without his disguise made him tremble but he did his best to not draw anymore attention himself. Trying his best to also not look like some druggie or otherwise lunatic, the disguised RatBit rubbed his chin and stared at the cereal boxes on the shelf.

“Which one to get… which one to get…” he murmured, feigning interest in the cereal.

Out of the corner of his vision he stared at some shopper who had stopped whatever they were doing and looked directly at him. Eyes bore into the side of his head and he held his breath, doing his best to give a genuine nonchalant smile only to fail miserably and look even more disturbed. Maybe shifting back into his RatBit look was a bad idea now that he was looking at it, it was probably a better idea to just keep his human disguise on until he went back home, even if it did disgust him. Besides, he did come to the grocery store with the intent to buy food after all. He admittedly didn't have much to his name, his hoodie pocket filled with a crumpled 5 dollar bill was all he had at the moment. It wasn't much but it was money he could spend and it would hopefully be enough to buy himself something to hold him over until he could get some more.

Releasing his breath, Toon stood up and no longer pretended to look at the cereal. With the presence of whoever was staring at him being dismissed, he surveyed the breakfast goods lined up on the shelf ready to take away what little he had left. Oatmeal, prepackaged pancake batter, the main allure of course being the several boxes of cereal that took up 1/3rd of the shelf towards the end. There wasn't much variety, it was a very ghetto store so stock was limited. The entire lower shelf consisted of some very bland honey coated cereal called JoyHoops which Toon passed over almost instantly. The two upper shelves were what caught his eye, more colorful boxes depicting a cartoon mascot chicken with the words “Morning Crunch” were what he was drawn to. Naturally preferring to look like an anthropomorphic animal himself he was enticed to buy the one with more childish marketing, one box specifically called out to him louder than the rest though. There sitting by its lonesome surrounded by different brands was a light blue cereal box sporting a lop-eared rabbit with a hat and magic wand.

“Frankie's Fruit Flakes…” Toon read aloud.

Toon reached out and grabbed the box, his hand brushing against the cold metal shelf making him shiver. Much to both his suprise and delight the box was strangely heavy for a cereal box. In comparison to the JoyHoops and Morning Crunch brands, the Frankie box held a tad bit more girth in both its packaging and feel. Toon picked up the other boxes just to make sure he wasn't going crazy and yup, sure enough the box holding colorful frosted fruit flavored flakes with marshmallows would probably be the best bang for his buck. He wasn't exactly a bargain shopper—he probably should have been—but he still knew buying this one would give him the best bang for his buck. Besides, he did have an odd fascination with the mascot of the cereal. His eyes sparkled seeing the friendly smile of the rabbit that had lured him in. It was just a capitalist and predatorial way to trick small kids into consuming their product, but it still worked on the disguised rodent and he began to feel a weird sense of nostalgia for a childhood he never had. Considering he was only partially a rabbit it wasn't really a vain thought to think the mascot was in some way cute, was it?

“Um excuse me?”

Toon froze up and felt his stomach tie into a knot, someone had spoken remarkably close to him. He prayed it was just someone talking to someone else but he could hear it was not only close but directed right at him. With a feeling of unease he tilted his head towards whoever this person was but suddenly felt a whole lot less anxious.

“... What the–?”

Sitting there was one entire shopping cart loaded over to the brim with boxes upon boxes of Frankie’s Fruit Flakes. The baby blue boxes were in one giant mountain, unevenly placed and all clumped together with a select few looking like they were about to fall to the side. Toon was immediately taken aback by the sheer absurdity of the sight and his mouth hung open as his eyes snapped to the man who called out to him.

“Um… can I help you?” he asked.

“Yeah I was just wondering if I could maybe have that?” The man pointed to the box Toon held in his palms “I already asked for all the boxes they had in the back and I was just coming to get what they had on the shelves so–” The man opened his palm as if expecting Toon to hand it over.

Being the nervous creature he was, he initially would have given up the cereal box just to avoid anything. Something about the box drew him in though, he didn't wish to depart with it at all. It was stupid to cause such a scene simply because he liked the mascot, but he did find it first as such he felt at least a little entitled to it. Toon swallowed a ball of spit that had built up in his throat and got ready to speak, doing his best to steel himself to reply concisely.

“...no…” Toon said as he clutched the box, pressing it close to his chest “I uhh–kinda want it? I'm hungry?”

Desperation filled the man’s eyes seeing Toon hold it. He took a step closer and reached into his pocket to retrieve a wallet which he flipped through in a panic “okay, yeah no, I get that I just REALLY need that box, I'd be willing to pay you if you let me have that, I know this may be a lot to ask it's just something I need right now”

Toon slowly crept backwards, his voice got softer and his gaze was averted back down to the floor “Um n-no, sorry I just want this?”

“Please, I'll give you a hundred dollars for it I just REALLY need it” The man took a few more steps closing the already limited amount of distance there was. Toon did his best to look away but had a handful of cash shoved in his face, the man still ever so insistent “Please– 500! 500 dollars!”

Toon let out a small squeak and covered his mouth. He had nowhere else to go and he found his back pressed against one of the cold walls of the store. Trying not to let anymore sounds slip he spoke with his voice now shrill and frightened “I'm really sorry, but I'm just taking this one box only and you have–”

drip

“Uh–.... Oh fuck…”

Toon could very clearly see a small drop of ink had fallen down off his face and onto the floor below. The hanging bay lights gave the small droplet a glint and for a split second Toon saw his disguised face completely malformed. His nose had shifted off to the side, his pupils were dilated and pitch black, worst of all most of his skin had started to droop like a very thick face mask about to be washed off. His entire disguise was coming undone and he looked like some misshapen wax figure that had gone out too long in the summer sun. The silence was deafening and even if Toon couldn't see the man’s face he knew he was getting a look of disgust. He had to get out, go far, far away.

The disguise he wore slipped away with his nerves, more drops of black fell onto the floor and Toon stumbled past the man. “I'm sorry, I'm just gonna take this and go” he mumbled.

“WAIT! Please give me that box!”

The man reached out towards Toon and time seemed to slow. For a split second in that moment Toon stood completely still, this random person grabbing at his hoodie making him react like a deer in headlights. The cearl box felt like nothing in his hands as they went numb, although not actually having blood nor a heartbeat he nonetheless heard a pounding in his ears that went off like sirens. His entire body felt like it was on the verge of collapsing as his mind raced, the finish line on his thought process telling him to do one and only thing:

Run

It was a spur of the moment thing. It was stupid and Toon cursed himself internally for doing such a moronic act but he couldn't help himself. The second his brain told him to, he ran, ran right out the store and into the cold rain. He could hear the shouting from the cashier, man. and the grocery store anti theft alarm but he never once cared to look back. His body had begun to melt with the human face he wore coming off, his body reverting his visage to its primordial state of pitch black with small glowing white dots. Puddles of water splashed and muddied his feet as he dashed through them, even his shoes were apart of the human disguised and those two began to deform. He deeply prayed no one saw him running through the parking lot, clutching a box of cereal like his life depended on it. When he first arrived to the store the rain was a light sprinkle that was almost pleasant, now it was a complete torrential downpour with the dark clouds casting shadows everything under them.

By the time the adrenaline—or at least his bodies’ version of it—wore off the pain began to set in. Toon had run 3 blocks straight, never once looking behind himself until now. A ragged sigh of relief flew out between his lips which were almost completely melted together. The disguise was almost completely gone but he couldn't care less as he found himself alone.

”The fuck was that guy’s problem?” He thought, his mouth currently incapable of speaking.

Taking a quick look around Toon tried to calm himself, assessing his surroundings to the best of his abilities. He was in not too unfamiliar territory, there was an abandoned warehouse, residential apartments, and even a few suburban houses that had long developed rot since they were in use. Potholes lined the black asphalt streets that were only made blacker by the rain which drenched everything and even the lights set up on the sidewalk to give people the comfort of safety at night in such a dangerous area held nothing but dead bulbs. To say the scenery was dreary would be an understatement, it was plain old depressing giving an unnerving sense of isolation. Even most of the residential apartment buildings were abandoned with a possible select few having tenants in them. The exact reason for such an abandonment of an area was the fact this was the part of town that was simply neglected, stricken with poverty and homeless; it was much easier for city officials to merely ignore this entire area rather than invest money to improve it. It was a sad reality but one the sentient ink creature came to understand not too long after waking up. They simply wanted nothing to do with any of this area. Well, most of this area.

With a pull of his hoodie drawstrings Toon hid himself and carried on, his feet still aching and heart palpitating. He was no longer in danger but the weird interaction was going to be engraved into his brain for the next week, at minimum. It was so odd, and for what? This weird frosted flaky cereal with marshmallows in it? He looked at the box and couldn't find what was so special about it, it was family size and heavy?... That was about it? The RatBit was just an honest to God loss on what the hell could be so special that someone would be willing to pay 10 times the amount the box cost if he handed it over. It was a box—a bit heavy sure but still—a box of cereal. Was this some sort of limited edition type thing and this dude was just a hoarder buying up every box the store had? All questions that would go unanswered, there really wasn't any logic he could apply to why the man had so many boxes in his cart and wanted this one as well. Toon just dismissed it as another bizarre display of man’s lunacy at its finest and left it at that.

Doing his oh so hardest to shove that out of his mind, Toon finally looked up when he was approaching his neighborhood. With only a quick glance given towards both ends of the road he made a direct beeline across the street to his home. A small concrete studio that was once used by animators one and a half stories high awaited him with its door partially hung open, big letters that once used to shine bright were just as broken and dull as everything else hung on the front part of the building. What was left of the old sign specifically held deep significance to the disguised ink creature, whatever the building was called had been lost to time leaving no letters other than “toon” as a label. The entire thing he held dearly but for him but it was the sign that gave his name, it was one of the few things he had when he awoke.

Toon finally got out of the rain and stepped inside with the cereal box he held in tow. Once inside he slammed the door behind him, the hinges filled with rust made an awful scraping sound and he prayed it would stay closed. The building lacked locks—because Toon broke them when he awoke—so he resorted to blocking all the entrances as a way to keep out unwanted guests. Today was different though, today he had no care and didn't bother blocking the main entrance. Instead he walked all the way over to the small part of the building he fashioned into a somewhat livable area and flicked on the lights. His sole company of roaches that infested the building skittered out of sight into unseen cracks and crevices, a sight that most would find revolting had become all too commonplace. He didn't care about the roaches or any other insects that lived with him, what he cared about and was focused on was a small box that sat on a table. Inside of the box rested small bits of drawings, doodles, and scraps of film reels that had been cut out focused on singular cartoon character from the 30s. This was Toon’s reference for his face, it's what he found when he awoke and quickly grew to acclimate to. It was something that felt familiar in an odd way and he had a connection to, he liked to believe those drawings were him, or at least apart of him.

Alas the reconnection with his body was short-lived. A small red envelope he had forgotten about was stuffed into the box by the RatBit earlier that week poked out.

”SHIT! I forgot about that!”

Toon swiped the envelope and he let out a gurgled groan reading the words “URGENT” on it addressed to some fake name he utilized. While the place appeared abandoned on the outside he was lucky enough to abuse the systems enough to be able to make a claim to owning it, squatters rights and all that. The unfortunate part of this was the fact that if he wanted to continue owning it it meant paying what property taxes that would be sent to his address and fake name. Another tragic detail was the fact that he had the unfortunate luck of dwelling in the only building actually wanting to be changed. He couldn't remember when but a couple months back he was offered a very miniscule amount of cash for his residence, they wanted to turn the old studio into some store or something. Toon didn't pick up on the exact details and time muddied them in his mind, but what he could clearly remember was the bottom line of them wanting to demolish and remodel the only place that he could call home. Needless to say he rejected the offer in an instant, but now that he was getting letters in the mail regarding the building he knew that if he missed one more payment he'd be evicted and no doubt the walls that were filled with unknown amounts of history would be wiped clean. Toon felt bitter towards the entire situation and looking within his pocket which held a 5 dollar bill he'd have to go back and give up just made him feel worse. He cursed himself for not taking the money the man offered if he gave up that box, but he'd rather die than go back desperate for the cash.

Between that bullshit that happened at the store, his current hunger, and now the revelation of this letter resurfacing it felt like life was becoming all too much and hectic. He just needed to gather his thoughts, take a breath, and take one thing at a time. Right now he was going to focus on the thing preventing him from taking a breath, the fact that his face was just a blank slate of ink with 2 glowing eyes. Toon tossed the envelope to the side and picked up one of the more intact drawings of the cartoon studio’s mascot, his face shifting to mimic what he saw.

Long snout, fluffy spike-like fur on his cheeks, black stripe running vertical across his eyes, black triangle nose, long floppy ears, pecut pupils located in a conjoined eye that also acted like brow, tuft of fur on his head—

“THAT'S WHAT IT WAS!” he exclaimed, the earlier feeling of something amiss being answered.

Toon licked his fingers and pressed them to his forehead, the fur beneath his fingertips melted allowing him to quickly mold it into a type of cow-lick before it hardened back into soft white fur. While he was at it he also ditched the pants he wore and added a few more details to his body based on the design papers he held. His hands kept the look of gloves but from his fingers and palms grew grey digital pads mimicking paws, his feet did the same. Sopping wet shoes covered in small bits of dirt and debris from outsidewere now white furry paws that he was quick to wipe on the ground. One final detail he added to his body was a monochromatic rat tail that emerged from his behind. With his body reshaped into that of the cartoon character he looked over at a small mirror he had hung up, it's glass cracked from him accidentally dropping it with the first attempt at trying to mount it on the wall.

Sure enough looking back was the cartoon character that probably was the studio he lived in’s mascot. He did do research on the place he dwelled in, a trip to the public library allowed him to look up what this place was but it netted minimal results. It was a small indie studio run by a group of friends who wanted to draw, it held no actual details regarding any creations that came from it nor any sort of report why it closed. All Toon knew was that the people who founded it were long dead since the 60s all that remained from them being a shelter, a few drawings he could use as an identity, a face and–”

gggggrrrrrrowwwe

–Hunger…

Toon groaned and lifted up his hoodie to look at his body, his inky stomach caving in on itself. Unlike his limbs which held proper fur on them his body was just a smooth inky shape vaguely resembling a torso of androgynous appearance although it became more unstable and harder to maintain with each day it was deprived of nutrients. Thankfully in his grasp he held the family sized cereal box, he'd have to ration it out until he could afford more food and perhaps it wasn't the most nutritious considering the box did sneakily hold small facts on the side stating it's high sugar contents, but it was still food. Food he could happily munch on. who needed milk? All he needed was the tasty flavor of the dry–

“tape?!”

Toon’s fur stood up and he retracted his hand, a VHS tape in his grasp. He was beyond confused and immediately noticed most of the weight the cereal box held vanished when he pulled out what was clearly not a bag full of cereal out. Heck, there wasn't even a bag the cereal was held in, the fruit flakes were just stuffed in with the tape leaving them crushed at the bottom. Instead of a nice box of cereal all he got was some stupid tape that took up 2/3rds of the box leaving him with barely anything.

“... What?” He muttered in disbelief “wha–WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!?”

The RatBit buried his entire snout into the box to see what he had left. It was about a single bowl’s worth, definitely nowhere near what he thought he was getting nor what he should be getting for what he paid for. Well, he didn't pay for it and had to actually go back and give them the money, BUT STILL!

“I thought these things came with toys not whatever the hell this is!? What the fuck is this bullshit!”

Toon unlodged his snout from the box and firmly gripped the tape. He had effectively been robbed and all he had for food was a few handfuls of stale cereal and some shitty tape to show for it. He wanted to get mad, lash out and throw the tape against the wall letting it smash into thousands of little pieces before using his teeth to bite through the celluloid film reels. Just do anything to express his anger and what was soon becoming grief as he realized he wasted what little he had for a singular serving of food. But he couldn't. With everything that happened and what was going to happen with the place he lived in he honestly couldn't care anymore. Everything was becoming too exhausting and he'd just do what he'd always do, take the problem on the chin and try to press on even if he was feeling mad and on the verge of tears.

Toon let out a sigh, trying his best to relieve his frustration. His ears were drooped downwards and he looked at the tape in his hands. This actually snapped him out of his rage, the tape had the clear image of that cute cartoon rabbit on it in the background with the big words “PLAY ME!” in the foreground. Under it was small text which he had to squint to see. “Finding Frankie, season:1” it read in very small text. Now while it was neat having a piece of physical media of a TV show come with a box of cereal, Toon still felt pissed considering he bought cereal. He expected to get you know—maybe cereal!?

“Well… I guess I might as well watch this, nothing else to do after all and I ain't going back to the store while that weirdo is probably still there” Toon threw his hands up in the air in a fit, a few bits of the colorful flakes and marshmallows flew out of the box and he sighed.

After scooping what fell out back into the box Toon shuffled over to a storage closet that he knew kept small pieces of hardware from its hay day. Admittedly a cartoon studio from the 30s having a VCR in a closet was a bit bizarre but considering Toon also found his red hoodie in the building he just assumed there was an attempt to bring this place to life or turn it into something else before it was scrapped. Whatever the case he had a small CRT TV and a VCR which he dragged back into the livable area and plugged it in into an outlet. A small spark emerged making the RatBit flinch back, a side effect of the power being haphazardly directly connected to another building’s power grid. It was dangerous—and highly illegal—but it worked and allowed Toon to not only turn on lights, but now watch whatever was on the thing that had tricked him. Unlike the weight of the box, the tape didn't lie to him and was actually what it claimed to be and be a cartoon aired with the intent to educate kids and in no way garner an adult’s entertainment.

Oddly enough though, Toon did find entertainment in it. The show enamored him, probably because of the rabbit character, and he found himself sat on the floor with his pie cut eyes glued to the TV. With the box in his hands he rummaged around and scooped out a handful of the cereal. It was definitely stale, the taste comparable to that of fruit flavored dust that left an unpleasant aftertaste. Toon’s face scrunched up as he chewed but he knew he would be fine, he couldn't get sick like humans did. The horrible taste quickly became barely noticeable with each minute that ticked by, the rodent’s attention becoming more and more absorbed into what the television displayed.

“Finding Frankie” was the title just as the name on the VHS indicated. It starred the mascot of the cereal brand and the one plastered on the cover of the tape, a small lop-eared magician rabbit. The cartoon was very formulaic in its setup, usually the episode would start with Frankie attempting to impress unnamed characters with his magic trick only for something disastrous to happen and he'd rope in another character by the name of Henry Hotline who had a telephone for anyead to help him fix it before a third character named Deputy Duck with a tablet body found out what he did. A common gag in the show would be Frankie making himself “disappear” as a magic trick only to reappear in the background, whenever this would happen Henry Hotline would break the fourth wall and ask the audience to help him find Frankie which is probably where the title came from. After the initial 20 or so minutes of Frankie and his animated hijinks the show would then switch to a live action format, a man in a Frankie suit would come from off screen and greet a bunch of children and with the help of a tablet modeled to look like Deputy Duck they'd advocate for kids to exercise or whatever message the animated segment built. After the show there would also be one bonus segment, no longer than 5 minutes in length. It was a bit called “Calling Henry Hotline!” with the gist of it being an animated Henry would be sitting in what looked like some sorta kid version of a talk show setup where his head would ring and he'd pick up the phone listening to some question from a child. The questions ranged from life advice like how to deal with bullies or what to do if you break something all the way to questions about the characters in the Finding Frankie world. In a bit of charming characterization from the creators Henry would always initially answer these questions with intentionally poor, sarcastic or downright misleading advice, often saying the direct opposite of what one should do only for the quack of Deputy Duck to come off screen prompting him to reluctantly give a more helpful answer.

It was generic, childish, and oftentimes cheesy but dear god was Toon so fascinated with it all.

The little rodent never once looked away, not even bothering with pretending to need to blink. The world seemed to fade away and he subconsciously munched on the stale cereal with laser focus on the incredibly charming character of Frankie. He didn't know why but whenever the animated rabbit would be on screen he felt that odd feeling deep within his inky body that he felt at the store. It was a sort of bubbling and warmth that he never had felt before and saved him from reality. It allowed him to dissociate from all of it, the poverty stricken area, the bad tasting dry food being shoved into his muzzle, what happened at the store, the oncoming threat of his home being taken away, and even the discomfort he felt from merely existing. All of it just ceased to exist when Frankie would stretch with his mechanical limbs to climb something, bounce around or pull a human out of a hat. The Henry segment was humorous and the live action segment was delightful, but it was always those first 20 minutes at the very start of the episode that would force Toon to patiently sit and wait till the next played. Episode after episode he watched solely for the endearing rabbit that would make him feel a special sort of way.

All good things had to come to an end, eventually Toon’s bad luck came to tackle him to the ground. For some inexplicable reason the show he suddenly grown an attachment too started to not feel like itself. The animation segment in the very beginning was shortened down to 10 minutes with plots feeling a lot more rushed and nonsensical, the animation following along as it became very choppy with numerous errors made along the way. Henry’s 5 minute segment was removed, or at least it might as well have been. The telephone head no longer answered questions but now simply advertised products, one of these products being the very cereal the rodent found the tape in. The absolute worst was the live action segment that took up most of the cartoon’s runtime. What originally was supposed to be an educational segment intended to teach kids a lesson that would connect in some way to the animated part was now tried to be the entertaining part. It was filled with mediocre jokes or physical gags that would have been a thousand times better in an animated and more exaggerated format. The creepiest part of all of this though was the suit. The original Frankie suit was nowhere to be seen and now it was just this one mascot costume that resembled Frankie but was definitely not his cute magician rabbit. It had a permanent smile on its face with large teeth, beady eyes and movements that were stiff. The entire thing just got worse and Toon was forced to watch the death of something he had just fell in love with not to long ago. Thankfully it was only the last batch of episodes that had this horrendous format, once over the rodent couldn't help but feel worse. All the joy, happiness, and charm he garnered from Frankie and his show had its throat slit in front of him and like always he just had to take it.

When the final episode finished Toon stood up witnessing what was probably the most devastating event of the day “well… that was nice? M-most of it…” he said, the bright side not exactly shining the brightest.

With a melancholic smile he reached forward to eject the tape, his hand faltering the second he heard some extra footage that made his ears perk up.

”[CONGRATULATIONS! If you are watching this that means you are one of the only FOUR lucky people around the world who have the honor of participating in a gameshow located in the WORLD’S largest indoor trampoline, water, and parkour park!]”

Toon’s arm slowly lowered and he watched the screen. Real footage of a place that Henry advertised showed on screen as well as a few shots of what the indoor parts of the entertainment park looked like. It all went by so fast he could barely make out the scenery expect for a sign that read “Frankie’s Parkour Palace” which the camera lingered on.

”[To participate in this thrilling adventure simply bring the season one VHS you found in your winning box of Frankie’s Fruit Flakes to our main location in order to have a chance at winning FIVE MILLION DOLLARS!]”

The world lurched to a halt and Toon's eyes turned into small dots “five– five– five–”

The rodent continued to stutter as the tape continued with its message.

”[With over three stories of action-packed parkour obstacle courses, this is sure to be a gameshow you won't NEVER forget!]” The announcer suddenly spoke rapidly, his voice quieter and easily missable to the untrained ear ”[FindingFrankieanditsbrandtakesnoliabilityforanydeathdismembermenttraumaorotherwiseadverseeffectsthatmaycomefromparticipatinginthisgameshowmust beeighteenyearsoroldertoenterinvitationisnon-eligibleifanyoneotherthanthewinnerismadeawareofitsexistencewewillfindout]” and just like that it spoke loud again ”[We hope to see you there, lucky contestant…]”

Toon blinked slowly, his face blank. Quite literally blank, the ink that made up his expressions had dripped off and was a puddle on the floor.

The rodent was quick to bend down and smear the ink back on, reshaping his face as he gave breathless mutters, the shock of everything making him forget how to breath “holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck, HOLY FUCK!” black ink streaked down his face from his eyes, this time out of joy.

He could hardly believe his luck, no wonder that man wanted the box at the store he was trying to find the winning tape. He didn't though, instead Toon managed to find it and he was thankful to gods he didn't even believe in for allowing him a chance to change the horrid streak of luck that always befallen him. Ideas of what he could do swarmed in his mind, with a million dollars he'd be able to eat a proper meal for once in his life not once but probably an entire year or maybe two. With the remaining millions he could fix up the crappy building he called home. Heck, with all that cash he could go one step beyond and kick the place back into working order, hiring animators to come and make a new cartoon starring the character he took the form of. Maybe those creatives would be able to make changes to the design he found himself drawn to. Maybe they could be the ones to design him a body that he'd be able to be comfortable with.

The sound of metal springs rapidly coiling and relaxing reverberated off concrete walls deep in an area hidden from the public's eye. What once was an attraction built to harbor cheer, joy, and entice adults and children to come play now was a demented trap built to trick unsuspecting fools looking for money. Posters and murals depicting what the mascots were supposed to look like were plastered all over, nothing but imagery that would give people a false sense of security before finding out what those mascots really looked like. Originally cartoons, the cast of a once beloved TV show now were twisted beyond recognition. The one the springs belonged to and what lurked through staff only areas was none other than the titular protagonist and namesake of the entire show, Frankie. Of course Frankie was a bit different from his on-screen appearance, in fact he wasn't Frankie at all. Sure his name was effectively the same and he had some semblance to him in terms of appearance, but from the very moment he was created he was told a different story. He was born of the soul and in memoriam of one of the departed showrunner's who died too soon, "Franky"—with a Y. Out of grief the remaining showrunner and the brother to the deceased crafted him to carry on the legacy, for him to help continue the show even in its... New format. He didn't like to think about that though, truth be told he didn't know what he was in his current state. He held no memories of what he was like, what Franky was like, nor did he feel like something that was once a man. All he knew was that he was created to help his brother get their show back and if that meant being a ruthless monster who would rip contestants apart, so be it. He knew his place and that was right alongside his brother–

["FRANKY!"]

Franky's long lop-ears twitched as he heard his name be called out over the facilities' intercom. His body jittered unnaturally, all the springs connected to his limbs froze up and he rotated his head to face a camera on the wall pointed directly at him. On the other side of the screen watching him dwelled his creator and only family, the real Frankie.

["Sorry there Franky, didn't mean to alarm you yet we got SO MUCH to do in such a SHORT amount of time that I thought it was important enough to use the intercom to speak to you!”]

The rabbit’s ears twitched again. With a tilted head he looked at the camera and stood still, not wanting the rustling of his springy joints to drown out whatever was about to be said

["While nobodies watching right now that won't mean they won't be soon! As of this very moment I've been getting everything in order for when they are! Apologies Franky for not telling you sooner but I'm sure you'll be happy to know that we managed to earn enough donations to get this show renewed for ANOTHER SEASON!... Just barely at least..."

Franky's ears raised slightly hearing the last few words muttered quietly. Keeping the show running as well as all the expenses of the parkour palace had eaten up most of the money they were supposed to be saving up to renew the long canceled television show. He usually didn't concern himself with the finances but if it was affecting the chances of them getting what was once theirs it would soon become his issue as well.

["Heh, don't you worry your big ears about it! Just meet me in my office, we have some BIG things to discuss this new season, I'm thinking for a little shake up!"]

With directions being given, Franky scampered towards the other rabbit’s office, scrunching down here and there whenever he needed to go down an elevator or up stairs. He often wondered why he didn't have an office like Frankie did, did he merely not need one? He did run on electricity, at least his body did, so wouldn't it make more sense to give him some sorta special room where he could recharge instead of having to share a room with the other mascots? Was it that he didn't... Deserve one?

With a shake of his head he dismissed such a silly thought and he pressed on into one of the final areas of the little show they had crafted. A momentous attraction dubbed "Frankie's Frozen Peak" that was ripe to face the action of people attempting to reach the top. Sadly no one even made it past the first area, let alone this final one. Despite the rather grim decor he had been commanded to setup, not a single soul was ever able to bear witness to the various platforms, hazards, or the rising pink "slime" that were installed into the mountain. Franky didn't really care about the lack of use the mountain saw though, in fact the less people he had to deal with the better. The only thing he really paid attention to in the immediate area were the various cardboard cutouts placed along where people would line up to participate. The friendly smiling face of what he was modeled after and what a cartoon should look like followed him as he veered to the side and ignored the mountain, instead heading towards a staircase on the side. With a quick stretch of his hand to the very top, Franky let his stressed coil arm relax and skyrocket him upwards. The entire stairway shook once he landed on it, his heavy feet kicking up dust as he tilted his head towards the human sized door with a sign next to it reading "CEO OFFICE". It was a tight fit but he was more than adept at squeezing into tight spaces, with a contract of his springs he waddled over and opened the door to the office.

There awaiting him sat Frankie, his supposed brother and the one destined to eventually take the role as the host once this silly gameshow came to an end. While Franky himself looked rather unruly with rows of horrendous sharp teeth, a maw always partially agape, and accessories that consisted of old scrap metal with a sloppy, almost worn down paint coating them, Frankie had none of that. The once human was what the TV show Frankie was supposed to look like, pristine, cleanly, and friendly looking. The only real difference between the cartoon appearance of the magical rabbit and Frankie’s body was the fact that Frankie had these small beady eyes and while his was smaller than his own prototype body, it was still quite large unlike the tiny toon that was showcased everywhere. Once upon a time when Franky first awoke Frankie himself was human as he once was. His brains and nervous system wasn't exactly attuned to his body like they were now but he could still remember opening his eyes and through faded vision being greeted by a smile of his brother who welcomed him back into the world. His creation was what led to Frankie becoming as he was now, once he was created and subsequently Henry Hotline, Frankie perfected the process and ditched his old human self to become Frankie to take back the old TV show and renew his place as the host. Franky was aware once the TV show was renewed he would not be showcased in it, he wasn't perfect nor anywhere near as appealing looking as his brother, but being the main one who the cameras focused on when slaughtering the contestants was more than enough to satiate his desire for fame. After all he has 57 seasons worth of footage of him doing what he did best, and soon it was to be 58.

"FRANKY!" Frankie greeted as soon as he saw his brother's rustling limbs and head squeeze down the corridor "took ya long enough! Now take a seat because you may wanna sit down for this one"

Franky looked towards the wall and noticed a chair. Considering his torso was twice the size of it he silently rejected and stared back at his brother.

"...Okay that's perfectly okay—now DOWN TO BUSINESS!" Frankie reached down and from his desk he pulled out a file holding a stack of miscellaneous papers "we got a lot of ground to cover... A lot..."

Although Franky didn't know what was in the folder of the papers, the intensity of his brother's stare alerted him to something being off. The air grew thick and he felt unsettled to know that something changed his brother's usually cheery mood. If he was capable of sweating in his metallic body he would at the sudden light switch tone shift and feared the worse about their current show and the future renewal of the original. With a small raise of his hand he reached over, hoping to take a peek at what could possibly be considered "a lot".

FWHIP

Frankie had slammed the folder shut and leaned back "HA! No, no, no, no! You don't need to worry yourself about this!" Frankie opened it once more and sifted through the papers, his head moving with each scan of the contents "I wouldn't want you to get stressed with all this, after all I know how sloppy you can get when you're out of the zone, wouldn't want a repeat of season 26 would we!?"

Franky's hand went back into its resting position and a growl emerged from his mouth. It was his personal way of expressing subtle annoyance although it quickly subsided at the mention of season 26. The cries were something that stuck with the viewers even after all this time.

"That's what I thought, now as for what we gotta discuss–" Frankie picked up a piece of paper displaying a graph, one that had the direction one line steadily set in the red "things haven't been... Great with the gameshow and for the past 3 seasons we've had to dip into the savings just to keep this place up, running, and funded"

Franky let out another growl, this time one of worry. If they weren't profiting or bare minimum breaking even with each season that meant there would be no big Finding Frankie comeback. With how much they desired to get that show back it made him fear their dream would be out of reach.

“What I wanted to go over with you was the ratings regarding the past few seasons and why we are actively losing money, it seems here that nobody getting far becomes boring, honestly the fact that barely now it's starting to become repetitive is a miracle!" Frankie chuckled and waved his hands in the air "now we are running a gameshow here and while we certainly can't let anybody win there's at least gotta be players to play in it"

Franky didn't understand...

The mascot saw his brother's confusion and sighed, with a shake and roll of his head to mimick and eye roll Frankie spoke in a quieter, more serious tone "Listen, while I know you just loooovveee~ ripping the contestants to shreds or squishing them underneath your feet we gotta break even this time or else there may not only be no TV show, but there may be no gameshow or even parkour palace!" Frankie held his head as it spun around on his spring neck before stopping "All you gotta do is simply hold off until I give the signal, heck maybe at least let them meet Henry, I'm sure he's probably dying to chat with somebody that isn't over the phone."

Franky didn't like the sound of that. He didn't like the sound of that one bit.

His entire body vibrated in discomfort. The very idea of anything different being done made him unleash a guttural noise from the depths of his head that was lined with bolts. Springs of his emitted a rattling sound as they stretched out, his hands and feet pushing against the confines of the tiny room. It was his show, not Henry's, why would the audience care if the contestant met Henry or not!? It was bullshit on every degree and account, until they got the money HE should be the one with all the attention on him. This gameshow would be the only time he got the spotlight so why was it being stolen by the person who the show was named after—Oh wait! That's right! IT WASN'T! The shows named Finding Frankie! NOT FINDING HENRY FUCKING HOTLINE!

"FRANKY!"

Franky froze up. The heavy tone carried by the other rabbit made him feel like his entire body had spontaneously rusted. Although incapable of seeing any emotion other than a giant smile, he could feel the rage in those black dots that stared at him.

With Franky slowly retracting back Frankie sighed, releasing his anger at his brother "...listen, I know you love to kill but just this once let at least one live okay? Just long enough to give the audience false hope, donate some more, and then once we reach a goal you can do with him whatever you please" With a wag of his finger Frankie switched back to his energetic persona, speaking hoppy and jolly "we're running a game show here, we gotta at least showcase somebody actually running through a few obstacles right?! This isn't just some snuff livestream!" Frankie suddenly perked up and looked towards a printer that had a stack of cold papers in the output tray "well... At least it wasn't intended to be" Frankie reached over and looked at a few of them, each page lined head to toe with requests of donors. It was times like this the once-human wished he could grimace and not be held back by his wide smile "I'm pretty sure everyone who sends us some of these just wanna watch you kill people in different ways, pretty uhh... pretty disturbing stuff now that I think about it" he scratched his head seeing only a few of the very graphic descriptions "eugh... whatever—THIS IS A GAME SHOW AT THE END OF THE DAY!" Frankie tossed the papers and let them fly about in the air before turning to Franky one last time. With a shoo gesture he gave one last command "go tell Henry he'll be expected to actually chase a contestant this time around, maybe that could liven up that old sourpuss, last I saw he was letting the stress of that talk show of his get to him again”

Franky said nothing and did as he was told, crawling out through the small area he fell all the way to the floor of the mountain parkour area. The springs his legs consisted of broke his fall upon landing down, his torso bobbing for a few seconds absorbing the impact. As he made his way to Henry's local he couldn't help but feel... Robbed? Was robbed the right word? He didn't know, all he knew was that he didn't like this direction the show was going in if it meant he was going to get shelved. The people didn't want to see Henry, and they definitely didn't want to see some loser in a costume run about, they wanted him! They wanted Frankie—or at least who they believed to be Frankie. His name was pronounced the same and even if he wasn't the host Frankie, that title belonged to his brother, he was going to cherish every moment of attention he could get where the audience believed him to be the one and only. Just the thought of having to give up something that belonged to him made his body quake but he tried his hardest to not show any emotion, not wishing to risk having an outburst that could easily be recorded on one of the many CCTV cameras scattered about. He'd just tell the objecthead the plan and get ready for what attention he could garner by only killing 3 of the 4 contestants immediately.

"Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring! It's all they FREAKIN' DO!"

Franky came to a halt as he heard the familiar voice of the talkshow host lament his frustrations. He was only at the museum and was surprised to find Henry out of his household, the mascot just trying to exert the pain of his head constantly ringing. The monstrous rabbit couldn't help but watch the sad display before him, smelling the distinct scent of rot that filled the air from a few of the people who he had killed.

Henry stood with his back to him, preoccupied with using some of the blood of the past contestants to create a grim mural as a testament and hopefully message to all those that saw to stop calling in "why does Frankie gotta insist on playing reruns—actually better yet why do the MORONS that watch them call the number—WE AIN'T ON AIR! QUIT CALLING MY GOD DAMN PHONE!" Henry placed his hands on his receiver, repeatedly picking it up and slamming it back on the hook to hang up whoever was calling "AGH! If I could get my hands on that stupid rabbit and his STUPID FREAKIN' SMILE I'D–"

Henry turned around and was met with the sight of two springs extending upwards. The rabbit had approached him as he rambled on and upon looking up and seeing Franky face to face he felt his blood and oil run cold. Henry dropped the receiver he held and let it dangle off to the side by its cord, his pitch black eyes eyes fixated on nothing else other than the rows of large sharp teeth and black spheres with glowing circles on the center that the rabbit had. His limbs felt heavy as he took a step back and tried to speak, his once normal voice now broken revealing a nervous one overlaid with what sounded like dead air or static.

"F-Franky! How nice of you to stop by! What can I uhh... Do for you on this lovely day?"

Franky didn't respond. Instead his eyes "blinked", the blue light turning off and back on. With a slow look past the mascot he stared at the mural behind Henry, one made out of pain from simply serving his role. Henry's "eyes" followed the path Franky's took, landing on the crude drawing he made depicting him with the message "DON'T CALL" next to it.

"Oh that?... Uhh d-don't worry about that, I'll clean it up, I promise! I know Frankie leaves you in charge of decorating after all" Henry clasped his hands together, the blood smearing further over his glove-like hands "I didn't mean to make that mess I just... Just... I can't deal with this GOD FORSAKEN ringing anymore, you understand? Right?"

Henry's voice glitched again, going back to its previous tones as he surveyed Franky's eyes for any sign of sympathy. Instead all he saw were those cold lights staring back at him. With a raise of a giant "gloved" hand Henry soon began taking more steps back, the springy appendage coming near him.

"Woah! Woah! Hold on there Franky!" Henry felt his back touch the smooth surface of the wall, the dark blood smearing all over his suit "Listen I wasn't talking about you! It was your brother who I was mad at!"

Henry winced and shrunk under Franky's gaze. With a past memory playing back in his head where the rabbit had been commanded to hurt him, the telephone head covered his face in order to spare whatever damage would soon come. Franky's big hand approached closer by the moment and Henry could only imagine the worse, what if Frankie had heard him and commanded his monstrous sibling to teach him a lesson. What if the Deputy had put him up to it? That quacking AI was always looking for every excuse to lock him up and maybe this was the opportunity the duck was looking for. His mind raced with ideas of both what Franky would do to him or what set the beast off. The constant flip flop between thoughts made his head rattle and shake as if he was getting a call. The migraine he had a moment ago returned in full force and he fell to his knees, desperately grasping at himself to keep his head still and quiet down.

click

"Huh?"

Henry opened his eyes, the heavy weight of a hand was brought atop him but there was an odd sense of relief brought along with it. Instead of hitting him or using those hands to crush the plastic his face consisted of, Franky had reached down and fixed the receiver back on its hook. The rattling stopped and the talk show host sighed, relief filling him as Franky continued to look down at him. This time with the knowledge that the rabbit had no malicious intent or cause behind his surprise visit.

Truth be told Franky pitied his fellow part machine part man. Henry was the second creation made using the leftovers of another deceased person, another predecessor to what Frankie was and his perfection. The mascot head wasn't as hideous as he was, but he still suffered from the result of imperfection and ultimately being just a prototype. While the idea of a character whose head was a telephone was a good idea on paper and worked well in an animated format, sadly when that fictitious character became a reality he suffered from horrible pain from the nonstop calls he received. Each time anyone would call in on the hotline Henry would be forced to advertise on his show or press a button on the many rotary phones placed about the facility it would go directly to his head. Even if he was nowhere near the museum or household he could hear the ringing every night when he was charging. The ringing and attention had driven Henry mad and Franky wished for nothing more than to relieve him of the horrid sound and pain, to be able to take over his segment just so the object head could catch a break. Sadly he couldn't, instead all he could do was be there and hopefully provide him some solace.

"Franky... You gotta stop, you can't just scare me like that!”

Franky understandably knew where Henry was coming from and gave a small nod in response. Against his will back when Henry lashed out at a caller on his talk show Frankie had sicked him on the telephone and knew where the fear stemmed from. He couldn't fault him for thinking in such a way and recoiled his hand away, letting Henry catch his bearings before giving him the message.

"Err– thanks for hanging up for me" Henry stood up and dusted himself off, although still dirty he tried to maintain what the pristine color of his red suit should look like "Now did ya come all this way to meet with lil' ol' me or did the higher-up boss man send ya?"

Franky raised 2 fingers.

"Of course..." Henry made a sighing sound and pressed his blood stained fingers to the numbers on his head, repeatedly turning the metal dialer around he said "What is it now? I certainly didn't blow up at anyone last night nor do I think I did anything to make the big man mad" he looked back to his drawing and pointed at it "it wasn't for that... Was it?",

Franky shook his head and pointed to one of the turned off TVs. It was at this point Henry got the message, it was an all too familiar gesture signaling what soon would be the airing of a new season of the gameshow they starred in. Well, they all supposedly starred in it but it was only really Franky who did the dirty work of taking out contestants. This season was clearly different though, Franky pointed at him and Henry didn't know what to make of the gesture. The cogs in and wires in his brain started to turn and after staring into those glowing blue eyes of his mascot partner in crime it all clicked.

"Wait! Wait! Wait! No! ya don't mean that I–!?" Henry pointed at himself "But I thought you were the–" he turned his finger to Franky "I know I am using their bodies for paint but I don't–" Henry gestured to the bodies before finally letting his arms rest to his sides. With another sighing noise he looked upwards, hoping he was mistaken "You don't mean to tell me the boss wants me to actually participate in the show right? I thought you were supposed to kill 'em quick!”

Franky continued to point at Henry and gave another subtle nod. He didn't like the idea either but ultimately knew better than to get jealous, besides this would be a temporary break for the object head where he'd be free of the ever present ringing. Franky regretted thinking such harsh things earlier, seeing how Henry reacted it was clear he didn't intend to steal the spotlight in any way shape or form. The rabbit overall did enjoy his phone—associate? Friend? Brethren? Whatever he was—he found Henry not only somewhat humorous but a stark contrast to his brother. While he occasionally worried and was fearful of what Frankie would do, Henry was the complete opposite and actually feared him. Franky didn't exactly like being feared but he understood it, trying his best to appear friendly and to ease any nerves he caused to someone he never wished to harm again.

This friendly and relaxed attitude did help. Henry took a step past Franky and started to head out of the camera’s blindspot, watching closely as the rabbit tailed him "Well I can give it a shot but I wouldn't know what to actually do, it's just chasing them and trying to grab ‘em right?”

Franky stood still. That was essentially it at a first glance but there was a bit more complexity to killing in his book. There was a right and wrong time to do it, like when they are trying to run back out from whence they came and they are only a step away before you quickly grab them, yank them back, and watch as they scream as they watch the exit they were so close to get quickly farther and farther. It was small things like that that made killing a lot more than just “grabbing someone”.

“Honestly if it's as easy as you make it look then I'm sure I can put on a show that'll be close to what you're capable of” Henry stroked his phone as if he were slicking his hair back and nudged Franky’s springy legs “of course no one does it better than you big guy, honestly it may be better if I give them one little scare and BOOM! You can come out and finish ‘em!”

Franky immediately nodded at the suggestion, his head rocking so fast his spring made it bounce up and down a bit.

Henry gave a small chuckle at the rabbit’s enthusiasm and kicked a vent open “alrighty I guess that's settled, be seeing ya once we're on air then Franky”

With one final wave the objecthead departed and Franky finally calmed down, giving a wave as he watched his friend intently.

Was Henry truly his friend? It was very well established the object head did fear him to a certain degree but simultaneously Henry was the only one he felt truly comfortable with. He loved Frankie of course but sometimes he couldn't help but feel like he just wasn't his brother. As horrible as that was to say, certain moments made the rabbit consider he was wrong in one more way than he thought. He held no memories of what Franky was like when he was alive nor did he have any interest to have those memories. Franky, the original, would probably unconditionally do what he was told and not question the commands of someone that was family.

So why was it that he was questioning Frankie?